Writer’s Digest Wednesday Poetry Prompt #499: Parent

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Food Processors

Their parents had grown up eating squirrel & possum,
or “tree rats” & “tree hangers”⁠—
anything that couldn’t get away fast enough.
Their children had grown up eating hamburger & liver from the grocery store,
turned into casseroles or smothered with onions to mask the odor
washed down with milk delivered by the Dairy Don Juans.
But their children’s children enjoyed
all-natural lobster & gluten-free madeleines
served with organic water,
showing that as food became fancier,
foodies became softer.

Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 499

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Writer’s Digest Wednesday Poetry Prompt #498: Autumn

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Autumn Sonata

When Pumpkin Spice everything
took over the shelves
like Christmas fruitcake

& Easter peeps,
autumn was in the air,
& it smelled,
if not tasted,
delicious,
because, for the traditionalists,
nothing pumpkin pie flavored
was as good as pumpkin pie itself.

Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 498

#Micropoetry Monday: The Lighter Side

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When the displaced homemaker
met the desperate ex-housewife,
they cooked up a plan
in the cafeteria’s kitchen
to get a new man;
Ms. baked him,
after which the Mrs. iced him,
& then they tore him in half.

When the 2 couch potatoes wed,
they turned into a bowl of lumpy mash.
When they had their small fry,
they realized they needed to set a better example,
so they drank beta-carotene smoothies every morning,
turning them into the far less palatable sweet potato.

For 10 years,
Messy Wheeler had been
“as cute as a button,”
but when her little sister, Fussy,
who was “cuter than a buttonhole,”
was born,
Messy,
to make her case,
said that you could have a button
without a buttonhole,
but not the other way around,
for buttonholes had no
functional or decorative value.

Writer’s Digest Wednesday Poetry Prompt #495: For (Blank)

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For the Love of Chocolate

Whenever she scored a 50-cent KitKat,
she’d tear & peel the wrapper back
as carefully as she would
undressing a burn wound
& ever so quietly, as she would
performing a secret surgery,
for the sound of candy being opened
was a sound her daughter knew⁠—
like a K-9 knew the smell of marijuana
or a bloodhound knew the stench of expired flesh,
because she couldn’t teach her child
that sharing was good
if she didn’t do so
when the opportunity arose.
Rather than share,
she did her one better⁠—
spending a whole buck-&-a-half
for that third KitKat,
so that that second KitKat
she kept hidden
in the deep bowels of her purse
in case of emergency
would be there.

Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 495

Writer’s Digest Wednesday Poetry Prompt #489: Death

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Cocoa Beach, FL – Chocolate, the delight of the world, passed away in her adopted hometown of Cocoa Beach on Sunday, September 4, 2050, to global warming/cooling on what would’ve been National Chocolate Day.

Born in Mesoamerica in 450 B.C., she went through many men, where she was mixed and molded to fit their flavor and image, and, at any given time, has been Belgian, Dutch, and Swiss (among others), and been known as Dove, Godiva, and Ghirardelli (among others).

Chocolate was beloved by the world; even those who were allergic often longed for her.  She enjoyed a variety of forms and fillings–ranging from bars and truffles to caramel and nuts.  She loved being wrapped and boxed and paired with strawberries and red wine; her favorite, however, was being melted and running through fountains at special events and fondue nights where she covered a variety of subjects.

Sometimes she was naughty, serving as the third component of a ménage à trois; sometimes she was nice, surprising children as a chocolate bunny in their Easter baskets.

She was every girl’s best friend during PMS and was often the peacemaker after a domestic spat.  She was the muse of numerous culinary artists and women authors.

Most of all, she was the only form of guaranteed pleasure for women.

She will be remembered for her versatility and ability to make every get-together better.  Though she felt overexposed at times, especially when it came to breakfast cereals, she was happy to make life sweeter wherever she could.

Chocolate is survived by White Chocolate, her frenemy of many years with whom she has not known to have collaborated with on any candy bar, though they have, much to their chagrin, been lumped into the same batch of cookies.  Chocolate is also survived by her numerous aficionados, many of whom will be turning to cheap alcohol and mediocre sex in her absence.

Visitation will be at 2:00 p.m. on Tuesday, September 6, 2050, with a celebration of life memorial service immediately following the visitation at 3:00 p.m. at Divinity Chapel, 6969 Heaven Hwy., Cocoa Beach, FL.

In lieu of edible flowers, memorial donations may be made to the Warhol Campbell Soup Kitchen.

Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 489

Writer’s Digest Wednesday Poetry Prompt #483: Name

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Only Weirdos Eat Ketchup on a Hot Dog & Other Hot-Doggy Things

Nearly everyone calls them hot dogs,
whereas pretentious adults call them frankfurters
& big sillies call them wieners,
but whatever you choose to call them
(or cover them up with),
they are still a “food-like substance”
that vegans try to replicate with their grody soy.
As for me,
the only hot dog I’ll take is the exclamation kind
because the noun is just too hard to swallow.

Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 483

#Micropoetry Monday: The Lighter Side

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Orange hated being compared with Apple,
as he was quite pithy & had a zest for life,
whereas Apple,
although not without a peel,
didn’t know the difference
between a screwdriver & a mimosa.

He was forgiven for his culinary sins—
squirting ketchup on hot dogs
& spooning sugar in his grits—
when he made the cruelty-free,
gluten-free,
& flavor-free brownies that,
nevertheless,
put them all in a good humor.

Deciding to peel off some pounds,
Apple, Banana, & Pear Shapely
went to the gym,
only to have Hourglass
give them several karate chops &
pour them into smoothies.