when i’m sad i don’t go to a bar
instead i boil water and throw
in some tea leaves
if the sadness is excruciating
i make thick pancakes like
mom used to, with
too much sugar
i sit in a corner like a dog
crying and eating
eating and crying
when i’m done, i wash the dishes
Author notes
prompt: all three i guess.
A contest entry
- QUICKIE: Stella Artois by Matt E. Smith.
460 points, ended October 14, 11 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 13 of 13
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woah. this is so gorgeous. i'm speechless. congrats on the gold
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Congratulations on the gold! Bravo!
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this deserved the gold.
this is the definition of poetry.
and this, my friend, is bookmarked.
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excellent
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well said, i love it.
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this is simply excellent.
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This is exactly why I like to read poetry...
simple, and painfully real. woof.
I would probably take out the last line too. Leave it at dishes. Just my two cents.
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Ah, but you aren't living a poetic life unless you go to a bar, meet a strange character who is as grisled as he is deceptively wise. Don't you know that's how to write modern poetry? Don't you read the best poetry on this site?
Yes, that's irony. There is as much poetics in sitting around moping about our emotional injuries as there is in confessing to a drunk sitting on the stool next to you -- probably more, and probably less kitsch.
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I 100% agree with the comment below me.
Weirdly good.
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awesome! I like the touch of the last line, though I almost think it would be pretty sweet with out it. Great take on the contest though.
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this is really weird because it's sad when it shouldn't be.
you're really too good at all this shit.
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Where is the poetry in that? This IS poetry! I absolutely love it. It was a unique twist, and I can smell the pancakes now. I don't drink often, but still wrote my piece as if I did. Never would have thought to do something like this...nicely done.
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I really liked this.
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