Rice on the Floor

An expression of cynicism.

God's chopsticks are merely taut
and don't catch much. 
Each grain has seen the pits
at least twice. 
Rolling about in the grime,
footsteps and such,
to become a verified, mortal 
twig of rice.

We think "this time is better!"
each time we fall down. 
And to some degree 
that thought is true.

You don't acquire as much
dirt, as much frown
as the first time: with that
clean, white innocent hue. 

And so, we are reincarnate
because his grip is precarious.
With such small pincers
you think he'd be more serious! 

But finally we're pinched
(very hungry he gets), 
and plonked into his grave mouth.
You see nothing is reliable
about this god -
St Nicholas is actually from
The South. 

Author's Note

Any responses. Please oh please!

Reviews

[zainul]

Impressed by the rhyming and beauty of presentation.

[Yet, Nobody...? Here.]

After some site-wide sampling, becoming rather unsavory, one starts to question their appetite - gone shopping on a full stomach, again...
Having now had seconds of this one, I find myself famished!

Think I will have another one.
Thanks!

[Frieda P]

Ha, good write. You're funny while making such an impact with your clever message and wonderful insight. I enjoyed this immensely, love the surprise last line. Bravo, it's going right in my favs.

[Rosa Carlyle-Mitchell]

Wonderful! Immense thanks :)