Two old people, Sat at the dining table and Shared a packet of noodles. They looked like they fit together, With their white hair and wrinkled faces. Seams of experiences And lines of disappointment, The result of having lived through Over seventy years of life. The rubber band that had been used To tie the packet up was pulled off, And the greasy paper unwrapped To reveal two dollars’ worth of Hokkien noodles. They both took their chopsticks, Approaching the food from different sides, And started eating. Who knows how often they do this? Picking out the cockles for each other, Knowing after fifty years of marriage Which partner does not like the bean sprouts And prefers the fish cakes. The old man tells the woman to eat more, She refuses, taking back what she said A few seconds ago about the food Not being enough. He insists, dividing the food into two portions. You eat this, he says. I’m not hungry. Neither am I ... I’m full. She pushes it back to him, Obstinately only eating the strands at the side. In the end, neither give in, Both persuading the other to eat more. The man raises his voice, The woman grows shrill. This is the only way in which They show their true feelings. Under strained politeness and mask-like demeanours, This is the only way they show their love.
Reason for writing:
I've been writing poetry for around a year now (I'm fourteen) and only recently have I tried to make my poetry more realistic, by talking about concrete situations and using them to illustrate feelings instead of jsut talking about emotions and moods. This is one of those poems, and is written about my grandparents, actually. That is the way they act, and I like to think it is because they love each other.
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View more poems by Jane Pek (Cancer).