A Lobster on a Plate

All in the golden afternoon,
when Turkeys cry;
and warm wind nudges the exposed cold skin of Red Maple,
a disembodied voice collapsed in my ears;
a contaminated Cuckoo rejoiced in pain,
the Voice of the Lobster diffused calmly into the thin aroma
of freshly baked cookies and
deep fried white lobsters.
The pain and agony in a still alive, Lobster’s eyes
looked incongruous with the other three
fried to Golden Brown; served with Béarnaise Sauce.
The sentimental pod chanted a sea dirge late night
with fear and pain in their eyes;
accepting their fate
and
sometimes, worrying Who is going to be next to be served on a rose gold melamine plate!

Written for dVerse poetics. Today’s host, Sanaa, invited us to play a game called, “Carroll Crush Saga.”

The idea here is to select three titles (from a list of Lewis Carroll’s poems) and to blend them together to form a subject for a new poem.

Titles selected by me: All in the Golden Afternoon, The Voice of the Lobster and A Sea Dirge.

7 thoughts on “A Lobster on a Plate”

  1. This is gorgeously, gorgeously rendered, Komaljeet! I especially like; “The sentimental pod chanted a sea dirge late night,” 🙂 Thank you so much for writing to the prompt. A pleasure to have you with us 💝💝

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