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ben-jonesPoems
My beautiful love, how I missed you Though only a day since you died My life was bereft of all meaning There was emptiness yawning inside I knew it was you that could fill it So I put you, my darling, on ice And I heated the oven and skillet And the wok for the 'special' fried rice First I loved you with boiled potatoes And a medley of seasonal veg There was gravy and roasters and stuffing But I cleared my plate to the edge I discovered how much I adore you Marinated in honey and spices Then stir-fried with noodles and peppers Once carved into sensual slices I savoured a sandwich of passion I was hungry for seconds and thirds And I marvelled at your generosity As I fed some of you to the birds You were soft, you were warm, you were tender Slow-cooked on a moderate heat And I'd frozen a chilli-con-carne For if ever I fancy a treat But my hunger for you had abated And each burp was a loving reminder So I gathered your beautiful carcass And bundled it into a grinder For a couple of weeks there was sausage I was ever so heavily fed But I wish that I hadn't have killed you And had battery farmed you instead ***
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Feb 14, 2018
Feb 14, 2018 at 11:25 AM UTC
The Food of Love
My beautiful love, how I missed you Though only a day since you died My life was bereft of all meaning There was emptiness yawning inside I knew it was you that could fill it So I put you, my darling, on ice And I heated the oven and skillet And the wok for the 'special' fried rice First I loved you with boiled potatoes And a medley of seasonal veg There was gravy and roasters and stuffing But I cleared my plate to the edge I discovered how much I adore you Marinated in honey and spices Then stir-fried with noodles and peppers Once carved into sensual slices I savoured a sandwich of passion I was hungry for seconds and thirds And I marvelled at your generosity As I fed some of you to the birds You were soft, you were warm, you were tender Slow-cooked on a moderate heat And I'd frozen a chilli-con-carne For if ever I fancy a treat But my hunger for you had abated And each burp was a loving reminder So I gathered your beautiful carcass And bundled it into a grinder For a couple of weeks there was sausage I was ever so heavily fed But I wish that I hadn't have killed you And had battery farmed you instead ***
ben-jones
Written by
ben-jones
English
Feb 14, 2018
Feb 14, 2018 at 11:25 AM UTC
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