2017 Day 3 – A Different Thyme, A Different Plaice

You wouldn’t like this kitchen –
No room to swing a Ducati,
Or keep a fish and chip pun,
Though you wouldn’t carp about it
As we tossed words like pancakes.
We haddock good time
Codding around
In a plaice that’s toast now.
Though I’m an old trout
I can still salmon you up,
Perched in a ray of sunlight.
Your words, never barbed,
Were my bread and butter.
Between bikes and deep frying
You left the kitchen too oily.
You left the world too early.
It’s pasta joke that you’re gone.


Notes: “Today I’d like to challenge you to write an elegy – a poem that mourns or honors someone dead or something gone by. And I’d like to ask you to center the elegy on an unusual fact about the person or thing being mourned.” This is not a conventional elegy, but then the subject wasn’t very conventional.


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