Mother of serve ware,
matriarch to our mouths,
why are you neglected?
Repeatedly unselected?
Banished from backyard barbecues,
daily table settings,
and afternoon picnics?
Why is your roundness rejected?
Is it because you cannot
stab or slice?
You cradle instead of castrate;
ladle and entice
instead of twist and gyrate.
Do we so soon forget
our move from breast
to sucking on your surface?
The way you lovingly mix
mushy meals?
Mother Spoon,
now kitchen maid,
you stir our sour lemonades,
scoop our last suppers,
slave out indulgent desserts,
only to make a guest appearance,
an afternoon delight,
to the main courses of life.
Subordinate to forks and knives.
Weaned from function,
to formality,
to our own finality.
Perhaps, it’s that we see our
own reflections in your face,
you feel too basic for use,
but too nostalgic to replace.
This video exhibits with lots of different dancers expressing themselves using Madame Gandhi’s track. I welcome discussion on Women’s struggle to gaine quality, this poem, and als Madame Gandhi’s track.
Yard Sale of Thoughts 
Poem: Very powerful. Love the analogy, and cleverly done. I had to read it a couple of times before I saw what you’d done.
Track: Not into rap music, but into the message
Womens struggle: We have come a long way, but there is still a long, long road to travel.
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Thanks, Hobo. Wrote this a long time ago, but shined that spoon right up this morning. It’s better than before, and hopefully impactful. Appreciate you reading/commenting.
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You can see the work that has gone into it. It is very powerful. Well done.
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Thank you.
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A great contribution, K. Exactly how do many women are treated:
‘ only to make a guest appearance,
an afternoon delight,
to the main courses of life.’
That image of men retiring to the parlour to discuss politics while women clean the plates away really sickens me! Perhaps goes some way to explaining the mess we’re in right now…HIWD to you!
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