Wednesday, 13 January 2016



When you feel that unpleasant emptiness

In your stomach

Take a food item

Need not be your favorite one

Watch it closely

Aren’t you amazed?

Don’t you feel the pull


Its physique



And ultimately

Towards its taste?

They do melt on the tongue

Oozing happiness

The taste buds, teeth, cells

Are nothing short of miracles

Are they not?


To some

Food is a marvel 

Their eyes glued to the twinkling breadcrumbs

Strewn upon the sky

So distant and unreachable

They frantically search for those

In trash cans, dust, dreams……

To some

Food is a nightmare

For they want to shrink

Beyond recognition

A size-0 ethereal fashionista

They desire to morph into

Subsisting on crash diet


Are food-stuff themselves


They are born as ingredients

To be cooked by the Statesmen of their lands

And served on battlefields

Of foreign shores


Posted for Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Food


  1. Whew, you have explored so many aspects of food in your poem, Sumana. Your poem starts out harmlessly enough, and the reader finds herself nodding. But as it progresses, you travel into a darker realm; and then there is the 'gut punch' ending. Whew (again)!

  2. Quite an insightful poem :)
    Beautifully put!

    Lots of love,

  3. cooked by statesmen and served on battlefields... oh well said..and sadly happening everywhere.

  4. You have explored the dilemma food can present wonderfully - it is a basic human need and yet it can be both joyful and painful..sad in a world where food is unevenly distributed and pressures sometimes override need

  5. really nice write Sumana: food, politics and divas

    much love...

  6. I mourn for all those "born as ingredients." When will the madness stop?

  7. Beautifully penned. I loved the ending.

    "To be cooked by the Statesmen of their lands
    And served on battlefields
    Of foreign shores"

  8. what a beautiful contribution to this week's midweek motif. I could taste the different types of foods with each and every line. some bitter, some delicious, and some symbolic. yay!

  9. Likening us to foodstuff was a masterstroke in this poem. Never have I felt so controlled by the powers that control than at this present time. Wonderful.

  10. Ouch! Fodder for guns, a substance for control, a vacuum. Ouch, ouch, ouch. How much more wonderful if everyone had the sustainable and fresh kind opening this poem, food to cause wonder, to entice the senses and to treat as holy.

  11. Wow. This is a really thought provoking take on the prompt.

  12. Oh wow, how thought-provoking, especially the young men set to be cannon fodder. Powerful, Sumana!

  13. So the statesman (rubbing his hands together) wants his prize fattened for the offering.
    The symbolism was well integrated Sumana - we were lulled to the final course.

  14. Food is blessing or a nightmare but I would rather is be a marvel, a source of warmth and contentment ~

    But that ending is tragic, like we are just pawns in the game of violence ~ Richly layered Sumana ~

  15. Find myself, fitting into, all of your different categories, for the wrong reasons that you have written, Sumana. As food has symbolized my struggles to find myself, after decades of abuse and mental illness. I do wish that more people would read this poem, and remove the blinders, which they have over their eyes. Maybe, real change can start, with this poem.

  16. Loved how you brought out something so different with this prompt. Brilliant :-)

  17. And served on battlefields
    Of foreign shores

    One can well see the tragedy of youngsters 'cooked' of their innocence' and 'fed'to hungry 'predators' by the greedy and powerful leaders of their country! No one seems to care!


  18. I saw a woman finish an uneaten meal in the mall the other day.There are people going hungry in the " Lucky Country" to our great shame. There is little kindness in this world.It all starts from the individual. Did anyone think to buy her a fish and chips which is the cost of nothing to most people here. Did anyone think to give the council worker a bottle of water as he stood in the middle of the road in the blazing 42 celsius heat ...and the worse thing about it all is the fact that if a person does perform such trivial acts of decency they are classified as almost a saint !

    1. Or crazy, Rall. I gave a couple of cold cans of drink to some workers outside our house the other day who were repairing cables and besides the gratitude they did say that was the first time that had happened to them in about 10 years work between them...

  19. Unfortunately, in most of the Western countries, Sumana, people have never felt true hunger pangs... Rather they are accustomed tot he discomfort of indigestion because of dietary excesses. To fast, to feel hunger generates the type of respect towards food your poem speaks of - and also of course it generates understanding of the plight of millions around the world who go to bed hungry every night...
    Beautifully expressed!


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