Turkey Treats & Teacup Tantrums

 —Poetry by Snigdha Agrawal, Bangalore, India
—Photos Courtesy of Public Domain

 

 

BAD WRITER’S DAY

With an anaesthetised mind,


unable to put pen to paper,


I called upon the muses—


but they ghosted me. Typical.
So, I fled to the kitchen—


where creativity doesn’t


come with rejection emails.


Gathered random ingredients,


fired up the burners,


and voilà!


Spaghetti with prawns,


drenched in pasta sauce,


with a pretentious hint


of oregano and basil.
Now, I await the verdict—


from self-proclaimed food critics,


armed with sarcasm


and Michelin-level expectations.


Because why fail as a writer,


when you can fail as a chef too?

 

 

 

 

 

RECIPE FOR GROWING



 

Ingredients:



 

1 cup of self-discipline


1 cup of tranquillity


1 cup of an open mind


(freshly picked, not canned)


1 cup of willingness to rise (preferably unfiltered)


1 sturdy stick of wisdom


(aged, not brittle)



 

Method:



 

1. Take a walk of life,
    

    add self-discipline,
         

    and fry till golden brown
    Watch closely as the ego starts bubbling up
    

    like froth on a bad latte

    

      

2. Scoop out the ego with a ladle of reality checks
    (Warning: Ego is sticky, don’t let it splatter!)

 



3. Add a generous splash of tranquillity
    and stir like you mean it—
    no half-hearted whisking, mind it



 

4. Turn the heat down on negative thoughts
    If they persist, switch off the gas
    

    (always safety first!)

 



5. Carefully open the cover of judgment
    and throw in a stick of wisdom
    Watch it dissolve like magic—
    no stirring is required!

 

Serving Suggestion:


Best enjoyed with a pinch of laughter
and a side of perspective


Beware:
overconsumption may lead to
glowing self-improvement


and unsolicited advice-giving


 

 

 

 

STILL TOO ADORABLE

He’s got flaws.


Oh, plenty—annoying habits so ingrained,


they’re practically in his DNA.


But then there’s that IQ,


so high he could calculate


the square root of my patience.
Beneath his tough shell


is a rare kindness,


like a pearl in an oyster.


Except oysters don’t leave the cupboard


doors open or tap running.
Loving him is a tug-of-war—


half admiration,
half the urge to scream ‘close’


And just when I’m ready to quit,


he flashes that grin.
Love is blind—or at least needs glasses.


Cue applause... or therapy.

 

 

 

 

TURKEY TREAT

At Hong Kong Disneyland, under the sky so blue


A turkey leg awaited—a feast for me and you


Golden-brown and sizzling, its aroma filled the air


A carnival of flavours beyond compare

 



I held it like a sceptre, a monarch of the park


Gnawing through the tender flesh 'til well past dark


Juices dripped like treasure, rich and savoury gold


A taste so bold, a story to be told



 

Pirates cheered, and Mickey smiled—was it for
my snack?


Even the teacups twirled in awe, I felt the world
retract


Each bite cast a magic spell and with every chew


The castle seemed more surreal



 

The fireworks danced, and the crowds began to cheer


But I stood triumphant with my turkey spear


A taste of Disney wonder, a memory to keep


Of a turkey leg adventure—delicious and deep!

 

 

 

 

MANTRA FOR ANGER MANAGEMENT

When anger strikes, it’s like a toxic spill


on the river of my emotions,


turning the Picasso of my life


into finger-painted chaos.
It’s a full-body workout, 


draining all my energy while fuelling


an ego trip that’s about as useful


as unrisen dough.
“Try meditation,” they say. Sure, because


nothing cures rage like sitting still,


thinking about why you’re mad in the first place.


But fine, I’ll give it a go—


breathe in, breathe out,


and maybe toss in a glass of wine for good measure.

After all, most storms turn out to be


nothing more than a teacup tantrum,

___________________

Today’s LittleNip:

GUMS OF GLORY
—Snigdha Agrawal

Oh, brave sir, who took the punch
Thought he’d dine on pride for lunch
A brawl to prove his manly might
But his teeth took flight into the night

Now he grins a gummy glee
Whistling tunes out of key
“Who needs teeth?” he boldly claims
As soup and broth become his flames
A hero’s tale? Perhaps, in jest

His ‘chompers’ are gone
He’s earned his rest
Next time, dear sir, pick words, not fists,
Or invest in dentures that don’t twist.

__________________

Newcomer Snigdha Agrawal (née Banerjee) has an MBA in Marketing, and corporate work experience of over two decades. Educated in Loreto Institutions (run by the Irish Nuns) and brought up in a cosmopolitan environment, she has learned the best of the East and West.

Snigdha enjoys writing all genres of poetry, prose, short stories, and travel diaries. She is a published author of four books. Her works have appeared in several anthologies/e-journals, published in India and overseas. She has recently been nominated for the Pushcart Prize 2024 for poetry. Snigdha lives with her husband in Bangalore (Karnataka), India.

Welcome to the Kitchen, Snigdha, and don’t be a stranger!

_____________________

—Medusa

 

 

 

 Snigdha Agrawal

 

 

 

 

 

A reminder that

Queer Sacramento Authors' Collective

presents six readers today at

The Avid Reader in Sac., 2pm; 

Capital Books in Sacramento

will present Grant Faulkner

today at 3pm; and
Sacramento Poetry Alliance
meets today at 4pm, featuring
Lee Rossi and Nick Minges.
For more about these and other
future poetry happenings in
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
(http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html)
in the links at the top of this page—
and keep an eye on this link and on
the daily Kitchen for happenings
that might pop up
—or get changed!—
 during the week.

Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.

Poets’ bios appear on their first MK visit.
To find previous posts, type the name
of the poet (or poem) into the little
beige box at the top left-hand side
of this column. See also
Medusa’s Rapsheet at the bottom
of the blue column on the right
side of this column to find
any date you want.

Miss a post?
You can find our most recent ones by
scrolling down under this daily one.
Or there's an "Older Posts" button
at the bottom of this column.
(Please excuse typos in older posts!
Blogspot has been through a lot of
incarnations in 20 years!)

Would you like to be a SnakePal?
Guidelines are at the top of this page
at the Placating the Gorgon link;
send poetry and/or photos and artwork
to kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world—including
that which was previously published—
and collaborations are welcome.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!