Lumpy Sauce And Cold Broccoli Poem by Ted Sheridan
Lumpy Sauce And Cold Broccoli
By now the lump, that only six months ago
had started out as a possible zit on the top of my head
has reached the size of a small Brussels sprout;
and it’s too bad because I like Brussels sprouts
I’m just glad it isn’t the size of a half gallon of Rum
or a two liter bottle of Diet Pepsi; because that would be
a real bummer and probably be call for a tall stiff drink.
I remember as a kid when I had jumped in a deep ditch
and knocked out my front teeth. It was nothing major;
a root canal, a little pain killer and a doctor’s note for school.
The note was the most important of the three.
But today at my advanced age; everything is a death sentence
and you don’t even get the sympathy notes anymore.
Those sweet cards with notations
that usually accompany such events; at least
when you were younger, people could still look you straight in the eye;
these days everybody expects you to fall to your knees,
clutch your heart and audition for that lifetime achievement award;
but in reality, all they really want is to put you in a room with the other vegetables;
where they conceal your meds in the cold broccoli with lumpy cheese sauce…
(c) 2008 T Sheridan
I wish I had some cute response. I loved the poem, but I also liked the courage shown by its content, its take on illness.
I like your wry take on this Ted, it somehow allows the rest of us to smile. Although it does create throat lumps too! This one's special, it really moved me. Hugs Anna xxx
Life as a broccoli flowerette in the apex of Ted's lumpy sauce aversion - or how to survive in the field of dreams. Top notch humour my friend! Rgds, Ivan
Ted...This leaves me with that...'we are just a number' feeling. It's sad when we realize that as youth slips away from us...often along with it go...missed opportunities...and little bits of our ego gradually start to flake off...before we know it...there isn't much left of us...we are all after all...just a number... Hugs, Dee
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/30/2024 6:01:45 AM # 1.0.0.1119
It is I think the humor takes the edge of the fear and allow us to function - but the reality underpinning it is not lost on the reader, despite a smile of recognition. Your dry, off the cuff style works a treat and your title reminds me of my old mum's tales of boarding school. Poignant and mischievous at the same time. Now that's special poetry. Love, Allie ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥