#fork
This is based on an April Fool’s Day Sermon a Minister of mine gave. “Brother Ben” (Benny Burlison of Palestine Texas) preached from Nursery Rhymes that day instead of the Bible. He managed to make a moral point anyway, using some variation of this. I can’t remember his exact poem but I did remember the plot, so I just rewrote it.
Hey ****** ******
The Cat and the Fiddle!
The Cow jumped over the Moon.
The Little Dog laughed
To see such a sight
And the Dish ran away with the Spoon.
“No!" Said the Cup
Whose Kid was the Dish.
"Her marrying a Spoon
Was never my wish!”
And “No!” said the Bowl
Whose Kid was the Spoon
So they both prayed to God,
“Get our Children back soon!”
God heard their prayers
So when they went to a park
They met up with a compassionate Fork!
“Go home!” Said the Fork!
“I agree!” said a Knife!
“You are much too young
To be Husband and Wife!”
These Cutlery advised them all night
By the light of the Moon
The Kids came back
By the next afternoon!
Jan 8
Jan 8, 2026 at 5:58 PM UTC
There once was a farmer from Cork
Who fell on a frumious fork:
It punctured the ***
Where he kept his bad gas
Made mostly from cabbage and pork.
Feb 24, 2025
Feb 24, 2025 at 12:26 PM UTC
Tiny cheesecake
You are such a delight
A tiny morsel
Three bites all mine
Once I find that pesky fork of mine
Nov 12, 2020
Nov 12, 2020 at 12:12 AM UTC
My path ahead, troubled;
through the blankets of snow, I plod.
I find myself in the wood,
boughs shrouded in fog.
The mist like a fever,
weighing down my soul.
I come to the fork in the road,
where I dither and brood.
Awake, yellow sun!
Cast your rays of light.
Rid me from this veil,
my peril, and plight.
Sweet mornings song,
notes carried through the wind.
My path now clear,
no struggle within.
Aug 9, 2020
Aug 9, 2020 at 12:32 PM UTC
I have run from you
one time too many
Finding myself out in the open,
There aren't too many places
to hide.
I've slid between the spaces of your fork
now you have me pinned,
I have run from you one time too many
I hope that you have mercy on me.
Along the lines of patience
I realize that mercy may be asking too much
But until now I've realized how big your teeth
really are.
With no place to run & your fork fast-ly
approaching there is no where else on this plate
to run.
I have run from you one time too many
and after tasting your lips
I question myself
Why did I run in the first place
Jan 9, 2020
Jan 9, 2020 at 11:18 PM UTC
can i introduce
your windpipe
to my gold fork
May 16, 2019
May 16, 2019 at 11:03 PM UTC
As History falls
Onto his blood strewn path
He meets a Fork In The Road
Between Take
And Be Taken
So instead
He jumps into the Rabbit Hole
To stop Time
And repeat himself
Mar 6, 2019
Mar 6, 2019 at 11:45 AM UTC
Life is a soup
and I am a fork
how life slips
and drips on the floor
Yeah, it’s a mess
Feb 15, 2019
Feb 15, 2019 at 8:07 PM UTC
I was at dinner once, and I really liked how my fork looked, so I wanted to take a picture of it.
I was so proud of myself trying to center that fork in camera’s frame, proud of my ability to recognize something that I wanted for myself, and proud of my ability to do something about it, to literally capture what I wanted in my hand.
Then my friend leaned over from her side of the table and asked if I was taking a picture of the meal, and I said I wasn’t. She told me you should, since what I ordered just looked so appetizing. I didn’t want to seem disagreeable, and she meant well by it, so I put down my fork and aimed at the plate.
Then my other friend beside me who happened to be in the frame leaned in to be featured in my picture, saying with a friendly voice that I should get him in it too. I just wanted a picture of the food, but I didn’t want to seem disagreeable, so I readjusted the camera to include my friend.
When I did that, my other friends sitting beside me must’ve thought that I was inviting them, because a few of them began to lean in towards my friend that was leaning towards the food, one of them laughing that I should tag them if I post this. By this point I was trying to capture more than what I had wanted, but I didn’t want to seem disagreeable, so to make room for everyone in the picture, I stood up and leaned back.
That movement on my part must’ve meant something important to the rest of the table, because soon they all agreed that I should take a group picture and began arranging themselves for it. Turning away from the plate now to an entirely new subject, one of my friends asked a waiter if he could take our picture, since I should be in it too. I didn’t want to bother the busy worker, and in all honesty I just wanted to go back to eating, but I didn’t want to seem disagreeable, so I handed my phone to the waiter and met my friends on the other side of the table.
Posing for my own picture, I caught a glimpse of that fork that I had first found so interesting, and looking back at it, I think I blinked when the flash blinded me.
Feb 7, 2019
Feb 7, 2019 at 9:05 PM UTC
The road ahead
is full of possibility,
but not for the faint of heart.
Luckily,
I am not faint of heart.
Jan 23, 2019
Jan 23, 2019 at 1:37 AM UTC
Quivering the forked tongue
Spews venom merrily
Shyster politician
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 7:01 AM UTC
What is life without ice cream,
for with every spoonful
troubles melt, tears dry up.
No matter your tastes,
ice-cream is life's
answer to every problem.
And all you need is a spoon
or a fork,
some are freaky like that.
May 18, 2018
May 18, 2018 at 10:08 AM UTC
Serenity, my new disease
Quiet contemplation
Competitive despite the lead
I eared with this predestined invitation
Love trumps all
But my Heart beat is quite thin
Felled like millions far before me
Now, this lonesome addiction has set in
By what metric I self evaluated
Is not your **** concern
Self loathing and self love are fine
Until you realize, they're
Followed by self hatred
Because what you forgot, opinions are not
Something that can be altered by
What you believe
What the world cares to see
The faults you've tried to hide
Are more than definitive
Through someone else's eyes
This solitary empire burns
With the feeling of resentment
Every note of color spurned
From the palette now turned grey
Harmful opinions to no one but me
No one can get in the way of my barbs
Self righteous heroes of a world assumed fleeting
Denied sacrifice can never be free
Who needs the criminals
With the strongest of wills
It won't be much longer before all the hills
Start calling out your name
As it turns to a scream
Try to wake up, but this life's not a dream
Shelter is easy, but hiding is hard
The stars make it look easy
But uprooting's really
*******
hard
The back woods keep drawing
The corner of your eye
...
Sep 14, 2017
Sep 14, 2017 at 5:13 AM UTC
She said "to hell with your dreams" and "let's do like the others"
I told her, to me, there could be so much more to discover;
"Join me, I said, this insanity burns with countless tomorrows"
"Forgive me, forget it", she pled, "you're on a road I can't follow"
Sep 11, 2017
Sep 11, 2017 at 4:25 AM UTC
I thought to myself, as I was getting something to eat,
I'm going to need a fork
This thought happened so quickly and subconsciously,
For it is something easy to think, or rather just know
And it happens to everyone over the age of perhaps three-years -old
Who has ever needed a fork
I knew I needed a fork
This was very simple
*But, where are all the forks?
Why are there none left in the drawer?
Maybe in the dishwasher.
None there, either?
Are all the forks in this entire house *****
And I continued looking a little longer.
After these few--but frustrating--minutes passed by,
I had become so focused and determined to find this fork,
That I forgot to remember the very point of finding it
*What was I getting to eat, again?
Cereal.
Spoon.
Right.
Here's one.*
And this is why my mind is capable of the type of thinking that it really takes
To find inspiration, and not wait for it to come to you
Jan 15, 2017
Jan 15, 2017 at 12:07 PM UTC
I come to a fork here, trivially,
Bewildered by my mind’s comprehension
Of the things it was made to choose between,
Like a machine forged from glass; the intention
Being that, shattered, the cracks branch away.
The fork, like a set of fingers off’ring,
Each giving me a taste of where it goes,
Does little in aiding my suffering,
‘Cause my destination I’ve yet to know.
Birds can fly and return quicker than I,
But my decision cannot be unchanged;
The tale is longer than stories of mine,
But, like a book, it can’t be the same.
The sun begins to set along the west,
So I step down and forget all the rest.
Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 5:18 PM UTC
My road is not a highway, well-traveled and straight.
Nor does it meander through the woods or follow a country brook.
No, it's often like a cave with short horizons;
And when there is a fork, I take it.
Apr 22, 2016
Apr 22, 2016 at 8:26 AM UTC
I'll be dreaming tonight..
Yes I'll be dreamin' tonight
Of a Trico hatch that's goes off like a New England snow storm
A Loaded five weight by my side, with plenty of backing to spare.
I'll be dreaming tonight
Of a Montana highway leading me back home,
Home to the Firehole bridge, a purple sky ablaze
Salmo Trutta, my brother from below
I'll be dreaming of Casting tight loops below Kilpatrick Pond,
I catch a glimpse of Ernest smiling on the bank
The Hemingway legacy lives on at Silver Creek
As we wait for the green drake hatches to fill the air!
I'll be dreaming tonight of days gone by,
When a young boy caught his first German brown.
Neversink, you beckon me to the days long ago
I feel the force of the river pull me from a deep sleep.
And I awaken to the thought of......Tight Lines!
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 12:57 AM UTC
My grandfather taught me things.
Things I didn't have to learn because I saw someone hooked up to a hospital machine,
But the tiny things that mattered,
Like how you should never play with you fork,
Because you could poke your eye out,
And while we're on the manner of table manners,
His constant hand grabs,
Moving plates and glasses,
Farther and farther in,
For a fear they may fall,
I was so curious of why even now when I'm not as small.
For now I wonder,
Is it so you don't fall,
So you feel safer,
Is this why u always push re plates in,
Have your little problems with everything,
And not afraid to share them with the world,
And try to push them to be perfect,
When you haven't figured out no one is,
I know that you see things in me,
No one else does that I don't even see,
All the potential and this future you constantly go on and on about,
And I think to my self what future,
But you don't give an inch,
And tell me I'm worth something,
That means something to me,
They say you don't chose your family
But I would of chose you still,
Your still going to be old and stubborn,
Like the old folks are,
But your unique in your pushy way,
That wouldn't of honestly made me care about you as much,
If you weren't the way you were,
I love you times every plate you pushed in at dinner,
To ever time you told me to stop playing with my fork when I was eating,
And nothing will change that,
Like nothing should ever change you,
And like you've taught me,
Don't change for anyone but you,
And to push myself to go the distance,
Aug 18, 2015
Aug 18, 2015 at 11:16 PM UTC
There were two
then another
one feared the new
solitude would bring
one
plus or minus
mathematical as always
is it not?
to those reverent
toward ships
outward faced
yet ported still
'tis asked
no matter the course
or how rough the sea
wherever currents lead
"remember me"
Jun 6, 2015
Jun 6, 2015 at 3:45 AM UTC
i dont need to explain why my mouth becomes a half-written dictionary
words like 'um' and 'like' and 'yeah' and 'ha' all pour out at alarming rates and you try and remain mysterious while i just try and remain
so i’ll sleep with you at your parents house and thank you, thank you, thank you for letting me stay
and when you make me breakfast with beans and eggs, i’ll pretend that i don’t see the bacon floating around
i’ll just toss my fork right down the garbage disposal and say hello to your mother and walk your dogs
and i’ll get interrupted while writing about you and i’ll be grateful for it
and that fork is still chugging in the garbage disposal
and please, let me down easy when you dont feel the same
have your mom wave goodbye as we drive down the street
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 2:34 PM UTC
Such symmetry,
Such perfection.
The perfect letter.
Y.
The wishbone.
Y.
The fork in the road.
Y.
Streams diverging from a river.
Y.
The question I ask over and over but get no answer.
Y.
May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 3:14 AM UTC