ENG300- Creative Writing
Poetry Portfolio
Cooking For One
Standing in my dim kitchen
the gas stove lights with a flash.
I take a sip of my beer,
as the single T-bone slaps
into the frying pan.
Eating alone again.
Staring blankly at the flickering flame,
a chill overcomes me.
I am overwhelmed by the scent
of towering Maine pines;
The sound of kids making s'mores
at a campfire nearby.
Those that I loved
but were taken too soon,
are here with me.
I feel lifted up into a better life.
Ryan, with his hair curling
out from under his Notre Dame hat.
Gumpy, sitting in a beach chair
ashing his cigarette as he finishes his beer.
Here they are,
waiting for me to join them.
Here where I always find them,
enjoying the summer sun.
I open tear-filled eyes
still fixed on the blue flame.
It's just me and the T-bone
alone in my kitchen.
Wiping my cheek
I raise my beer, empty
Have you ever listened to flip-flops
with that pat-pat-pat as you walk?
I mean have you ever really listened?
are we cursed?
pat-pat-pat
in the sand.
pat-pat-pat
Why can’t we
feel the snow?
pat-pat-pat
To be boots
with steel toes.
pat-pat-pat
Or the shoes
laced up tight.
pat-pat-pat
Is there more
in this life?
pat-pat-pat
The rain came down in golf-ball drops,
saturating even the most desolate deserts.
Valleys filled like bathtubs for the Titans
And then the earth was covered.
It’s probably worse
than what happened to Noah.
Though I wasn’t there
And we won’t build arks.
Slowly man will forget
The lush green grass.
In New England’s Fall trees.
All that is left
Is the One-Great Sea.
Stretching to the horizon like a blanket,
Cold and black as a bitter midnight sky.
Sad excuses for islands
formed by the remains of skyscrapers.
Islands of jagged rusted steel
decaying plaster and death.
Built so high even THIS
rain can’t drown them.
Jutting from the ocean fighting
the mountains for control of the Sky.
I don’t know why it happened,
I like to think it’s not my fault.
Eating pasta or Mac n’ cheese with hot dogs for weeks,
Cause it’s all we can afford this month.
Showering by candlelight and sitting in the dark,
Maybe they’ll turn the power back on tomorrow.
Wearing the same clothes as yesterday,
Hoping the other kids won’t notice and poke fun.
Giving empty cards at birthday parties,
It’s the thought that counts right?
Walking to a gas station with that same red jug,
I can’t remember the last time I told the guy to fill it up…
Missing those nights out on the town,
Staying at home drinking , writing bad poetry.
I don’t know how this happened,
I pray to God there’s something I can do.