Spaghetti

ummm....haha...well, this one has no rhyme or reason to it at all. I was in wood-shop class in high school, and I was bored because I couldn't do anything on my project that day. Sooooo....I turned to a kid and said, "Hey, give me a topic I can write a poem about." Aaaaaand....he said, "spaghetti." Yup, I took the challenge. :)

Spaghetti

The picture of art:

a spotless white plate,

spaghetti noodles

arranged perfectly,

bright red sauce - 

not slopped on the plate

but carefully

strategically

measured onto the noodles,

leaving no stain

on the spotless white plate,

A single leaf of oregano

tops the masterpiece.

In your dreams.

My perfect plate of spaghetti:

spoon a handful of noodles

on the chipped old plate,

runny red sauce

mixed with ground beef,

thrown carelessly

on the noodles.

(yes mom, I'll clean it up)

Shove a forkful in my mouth

slurp it up,

sauce all over my face - 

the picture of loveliness.

While I wrote this, I thought of all the cooking shows I watch - Master Chef....yeah, that's the only one I watch - and compared it to what happens when you let me cook dinner for the family. I don't care what it looks like (usually), just as long as it tastes good to the people I love.