NaPoWriMo🎙📚20/04/22 Day 20



Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that anthropomorphizes a kind of food. It could be a favorite food of yours, or maybe one you feel conflicted about. I feel conflicted about Black Forest Cake, for example. It always looks so pretty in a bakery window, and I want to like the combination of cherries and chocolate . . . but I don’t. But how does the cake feel about it? Happy Writing! – Maureen Thorson


Oh my anthropmorphise a food! Hang on while I have a coffee and a cake and ponder on it! Lol 😆 😁🤣 I have chosen to write in rhyming quatrains with the scheme, A/C B/D. ❤🌷❤


Apple on a Tree

My name is Pink Lady and I'm an apple on a tree
I started growing up here in Spring, I am pretty and pink
I asked Tree, what came next; he is as wise as a tree can be.
He told me the pickers would come, he shook his leaves with a wink.

What next? What next? I begged in great anticipation.
Do not be so eager to learn your fate little one.
Said the Tree wisely, stop your cross- examination.
Many Pink Ladies had asked the very same question.

So eager to be on their journey they didn't just exist.
The Tree sighed, the pickers put you in a box with all the other apples.
What next? I wanted details although I felt the Tree resist.
But I felt it was a subject with which Pink Ladies should grapple.

Then you go to the supermarket where a human will buy you.
Will I have a human all of my own, will there be a child?
Shouldn't be surprised, Tree said, a house which will be your home too.
A forever home, I was excited but Tree sadly smiled.

The very next day the pickers came, they were a jolly bunch.
They picked us apples and filled the wooden boxes one by one.
They brought bread, butter, cheese and pickle to eat for their lunch.
When we said goodbye to Tree he said this was how life was done.

We arrived at the supermarket later that night.
We had to stay in storage which was very dark and cold.
Next day a lady bought four apples so shiny and bright.
I went home with her and she had a girl, eight years old.

Next day the girl wanted to take me to her school for lunch.
Her mother polished me so I looked like pink silk spun.
It was at one o'clock, with cheese and bread, I got a hunch.
I felt the girl's teeth bite into me and I was dead and done.

©🦊VixenOfVerse, 2022