Old chopping board,
chipped and splintered,
hints at its own blueprint.
Lintels of structure if prised
reveal seeping spices,
extract of peppers,
smoky stains of ham.
Lines mapping excavations
through vertical diagrams
of favoured meals,
a sealed surface,
released from confining pine,
barely discerned among aromas
of early morning coffee.
4 Sep 05
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Nice poem, but (and I'm trying to make a joke here or anything) it seems to sterile. If you get what I mean.
Buy a new chopping board - you'll get food poisoning if you keep using that one.
Oh, whoops, I meant I was NOT trying to make a joke.
I need sleep.
yeah agree, nice poem! this is your 100th poem larry!! congratulations!!!
Maybe lacks spark, but a nice read.
this had such a commonplace, mundane, homey feel to it...and i mean all of that as the highest possible compliment! you captured your subject wonderfully.
larry, life must be stagnant to resort to writing about cutting boards. not one of your better works, but good none-the-less. now i'm hungry. thanks.
It is difficult to write a poem about a chopping board, but I think it's a potentially very rich vein oif subject matter. Metaphorically, it suggests layers of the past in the same way that a piece of a cliff reveals layers of different rock. In the same way that that rock reveals the earth's history, the chopping board is the key to the domestic history of a family - wespecially those great big butcher's blocks that last forever. I also think it's interesting for a male consciousness to tackle the metaphor of the domestic in a poem - it gives a new slant - in the same way that food cooked by a man has a different slant - usually burned if larry cooks it :)