Jul 12 2008
A Tit for Tat Poem…
A wicked little poem just for kicks…
Just Deserts and Humble Pie
You may have heard of the woman with her children and pies… this is not quite a fable though not really a lie. Mincemeat was her favorite but that’s not the story… the point is her children and the count was at forty.
One day they missing… all vanished from sight. Somehow, they’d been stolen in the midst of the night. Her tears formed resentment and silence she vowed… so police came to her door, rapping surly and proud.
They searched every corner, every cranny, and nook. But no children were found, not even a schoolbook. The pursuit triggered a scene of guilt without fact… so she slunk on the doorstep feeling feeble and slack. Ten years then would pass of both confusion and fury. Each day, a new nightmare that passed without hurry. The town called, Foolhardy, quickly banished her word… though no matter deep sorrow, her tears were not heard.
Another ten years and misfortune befalls. Still no laughter, no smiles from those heartbroken walls. The police had come back just to spite this old woman, and they ate all her pies nestled warm in the oven. A good snicker she bellied as they devoured her delicacy. They had just eaten her children… for mincemeat was her specialty.
She laughed and she cried bending forward with cheer. It was clear they still blamed her for these past twenty years.
Now this isn’t the ending for there must be a catch… and the police collapsed to the floor heaving a fierce wretch. The woman stood rigid with a snarling smile, because she’d known the reality for a very long while. Though how could this be for she loved her children so greatly?
Why would she place in them in pies just for baking?
The point is her pies and the count was at forty… I called them children at the start of this story. Dessert, her sweet blessing for she hadn’t a family. So she baked and she baked until her pies caused insanity.
Poem:
