Play With Your Food or: There's a Jungle in My Salad!
by Erin E Kelly-Moen
Monday, March 22, 2004
Rated "G" by the Author.
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“Don’t play with your food!” my mother
would say, as I daydreamed away,
often on shimmery summer-hot days.
Roast beef, mashed potatoes, corn,
gravy and rolls, a sensible meal,
and delicious, as well. But, at that tender age,
the whole world was for play.
I nodded; and nodded away,
back to where a white-walled volcano awaited,
overrun with sludgy gravy-brown lava,
simmering and seething and dripping about;
corn eyes floated up, and, wide-eyed, they drowned,
as buttery clouds dive-bombed and fell all around.
Don’t play with your food? How could I stop?
Oyster crackers were life rafts
in tomato soup’s bloody swamps, or
a peeled carrot became a golden jeweled carat,
nibbled on with magical rabbit teeth
as I watched a banana on the table dancing a Chiquita jig!
The center of the earth lived in a watermelon rind
and chicken wings could flap even lying in pieces!
Pancakes were spaceships, goo trapped and plated
while wiggly brown sausage pilots
writhed ‘til I ate them. Cold milk was nectar,
I was a god, chocolate chip cookies my ambrosia...;
and saltine crackers made Olympic castles,
boldly roofed in cheese colored shingles…
“Don’t play with your food!” in exasperation
I snap at my kids, “supper’s over, there’s homework to do,
now stop it, and hurry up! “But, see mom,”
says the youngest, “what a jungle’s in my salad!
There’s orange slivery snakes heading for the olives.
Ranch-white rain has fallen all over the place;
it’s poison, you know, we have to ride tomato-wedge boats
and hold up cucumber umbrellas to get out of this mess!”
I stood transfixed. Why, yes, I see it! And the sunflower seeds
are piranha-ferocious! Pallid onion worm-dragons
surrounding our steeds! Quick! Push over the
sesame breadstick tree, we must hurry and get off
this treacherous worlded creation!--Run!
We made it! We’re okay! We need to celebrate! I know!
Let’s go swim in star bright ice cream waterfalls,
it's time to play in dessert!
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|Reviewed by OnepoetGem *the Poetic Rapper
|Very creative food of delicious food piece Erin. I'm trying to quit playing in my desert especially with my mouth. Puts pound cakes on me, I could end up being a big banana. smiles. G|
|Reviewed by anne cunningham
|keep playing with your food and mentoring same|
|Reviewed by Floria Kelderhouse (Reader)
|Erin again I say this...I love your mind...
this was the most delightful poem I have
ever read and a keeper..My grandson just has
to see this one...floria
|Reviewed by Anna Marie Fritz (Reader)
|I love it!
So reminiscent of my own childhood...and only poets can dream
up delicious scenarios like this. The images here are sensational,
|Reviewed by Marvin Kirsh
|dear erin-vegatable can be good company when your lonley. I have a friend who feels guilty of compulsion when he doesnt finish all his food at age 54("there are people starving in china") is a very important officaL. I myself need no forceing or imposed disciplinr to eat all my food. My old pet dog when I was alone in New York shared my table as we had something in common. I went to school and she i proported drove a transit bus on 57th street -greeted eachother at the door after a hards day work. Though vegatables cannot move like dogs they have colorfull possibilities for companionship aad are very healthfull for digestion if not possibly emotionally gratifying as engulfed, consumed, or enveloped internally as impartial emotional and life support. Imagination can be very space giving gratifying and mentally resting. I have found real tangeable fact sdometimes to my imaginations if not stiring my creativity from roteness. Marvin
ps had my first poem accepted for a real book -all my science rejected though with a suspicious universal change of format and word usage by the journals-still plugging away at it.
|Reviewed by Katy Walsvik
|Mon ami... Mi amiga... pen pal O'mine... (giggle) YOU TOO? sigh... god, I love when you're playful, delightful Erin... just the other day a wedge of cake 'had the Cliff's of Moher' "written" all over it... and don't forget how important it was to stay ON that weanie, lest ye slip and fall into the 'bun' beyond and get swallowed up by the yellow river... thankfully, there were chunks of onion boats to cling to but keep an eyes out for the green relish, chunks of the moon's surface... Obviously, alphabet soup was a trip worth hours of dawdling.. hehe... I love this poem madly! shall keep it in my library... love, katy xox.|
|Reviewed by Elizabeth Taylor (Reader)
|This is great, Erin. Love it.|
|Reviewed by jude forese
|i like the imagery in this very different, well written poem ...|