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Wed 24 Sep, 2003 02:23 pm
Quick back ground: a poem written in a trendy Indian restuarant called Karma Petit in Parktown North Johannesburg.
Karma Petit:
Karma, fitting, a restuarant's name
gives fate a new meaning.
I sit in Karma (or is it I live?)
dark warm wood
deep red wine
deep red fabric
feeling just fine
for now
Exotic hot spice replaces
the hollow chilled void
for the moment
masala disguise
the emptiness
Curry covers
the lonely cracks
in the self assured facade
A tasty rich
milky orange
Pollyfilla for the heart.
A very nice description of losing yourself for just a moment in a really good meal, but I'm a chef, and love Indian food, so this poem is basically what I do for a living.
Thank you so much Cav mwah!
Sometimes the original writing forum goes slow, but keep posting!
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