Memoirs Of A Feast Poem by Aslam Marikar

The bare plate staring white at face
Our bellies howling to the smell of food!
We took to sitting with our host calling for the bidding
That brought out from hiding the day's spread of goods.

A dish of Jack that would make the English envious
Onions that made sweet every swallowing gulp
Rice whiter than pearls from a land richest in the world
Were a few for the taking for those who sat greedily on hold?

But greed had not in its pockets what love had for sale
So each offer endless was sold at a price that made money insane.

Round and round each plate was filled
As Kandy News went on with questions at will
So came answers witty from those with the bill
But lucky for us we were a newspaper from the hills.

The taste of food put a stop to the talk with haste
And our fingers from tapping at the table took its rightful place
Cunningly mixing what lay on the plate hoping to seduce
The tongue with new taste.

But nothing cunning can ever reach heaven in haste
So all effort was put untimely to waist.
The cooks from nooks with portions of fate
Had made the dishes perfect and cunning had a blind date.
So hand to mouth like islanders we ate
With endless delight all and more that was served on our plates.

Now the plate that made the belly howl
Took its exit and let a new day dawn.
In silver platters did they enter the hall
Each with sweets tendered under Mrs. Molagoda's call
That upon tongue did dissolve with each gentle fall (seeni pittu)
Thus none took to the clock on the wall as we were all having a ball.