I wish that the farmers could grow me square peas
then they wouldn't roll round on my plate;
in this day and age they could do it,
so come on now before it's too late;
I'm now getting on, and a lifetime
of chasing the things with a spoon
is getting me down, and I really would like
to be rid of the problem quite soon.
All veg that are round are a nuisance,
and it's just now come to my attention
that my dexterity is eroding
quite as fast as I'm drawing my pension.
Of course, I could give them a miss,
but I have to keep taking my greens...
and now that I'm thinking about it,
I've got the same problem with beans.
How I wish that my dining was simpler,
and not in so parlous a state, come,
we've got to be up to the challenge
of holding our veg on our plate;
We've had rockets to Mars, and men on the Moon
so it can't be that big of a deal,
for the legions of capable boffins
to serve up a truly square meal.
(Written Aug 2015)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A square meal for an Esquire. Nice idea skilfully drafted.10