The Bin And The Platter Poem by Richard Antwi

Oh, never to come back as a bin
But to come as a platter
Who is valued and cared for by our Masters
Like fraternal twins,
We arrive in a new house virtually the same time

On the spur of the moment
And in a slapdash fashion,
I’m thrown to a muddled corner
While the platter is sponged down over and over
Uncontaminated and cautiously,
Finds solace in a secured, cleaned and sparkling haven

My worst moment is that,
The best food in the house, whether for:
Kings or queens, prosperous or underprivileged
Is first tasted by the platter
With circumspection, Masters handle the platter
With utmost concern while I am ignored
And handled haphazardly

Don’t even want to see my presence
As my horrible smell may let people lose their appetite
But I wasn’t born foul-smelling,
Did I? Of course, not!
Same people that made me stink are the same that ignore me
Why should I bother about this at all?
Since the shoddier happens every day!

Dinner is over and as usual,
The leftovers, the surplus, the waste are thrown at me
With disdain and disparagement,
With anger and resentment,
There is always one wish for me
A wish for angst
A wish to fight and torment
Because there is always a pain in the neck

To blow and destroy my one and only enemy,
The platter; the feeble yet the most admired platter!
With one blow, it will go down in pieces,
In shatters and standing no more
Having no mercy whatsoever
Will jump and jump over it
Till it crushes and reduces to sand
Then I’ll triumph with joy
Over my Masters, my secret enemies!

(This is a sequel to the 'The Bin')