Eating With My Hands.... [mealtime Alone; Humor; Lack Of Manners! ] - Poem by Bri Edwards
I bet all of you have eaten food, using no utensil.
[I wonder if monkeys ever eat, using their tails(-prehensile) ]
Usually I only eat sandwiches, or whole fruits, using just hands, no tools.
After all, my mom taught me all about..... the “proper” (human) eating rules.
Yes, here in civilized America, I was taught to use knives, forks, and spoons.
What do you think Americans are, after all? African baboons? ?
BUT, tonight while my wife was gone [she’d left me leftover food],
I ate in a fashion my mother would consider...... perhaps BOTH crude and rude.
I set before myself a cold frying pan of cooked veggies and beef, not pork,
and I “pigged out” [you can say that again] using NO knife, NOR spoon, NOR fork.
The sight of the mixed veggie-and-meat juices.....
....................opened wide in my mouth my saliva sluices.
I held the bones with my two hands, and gnawed them like a shark.
Then I wolfed down potatoes, carrots, and onions. You’d think that I might bark.
[like a dog]
I had a little wine as well, but....... I did NOT drink from the bottle,
and when I’d finished off the feast, ...... from the table I did waddle.
Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about Eating With My Hands.... [mealtime Alone; Humor; Lack Of Manners! ] by Bri Edwards
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
A Dream Within A Dream
Edgar Allan Poe