Weekend Writing Warriors #77: The Taste of Toasted Marshmallows, Revisited

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Weekend Writing Warriors #77: The Taste of Toasted Marshmallows, Revisited

Every Sunday, the Weekend Writing Warriors and Snippet Sunday participants share 8-10-sentence snippets from their works-in-progress on their blogs for others to read and comment on. Join the fun! Click on the links to see the full lists.

Today I’m reposting one of my OctPoWriMo poems. I wrote this in response to Day 3’s prompt: the taste of metal, which made me think of shish-kebobs, which of course made me think of toasting marshmallows. The form is cheritahanna-morris-278272

The part of the barbecue I like the best.

I select a skinny branch on the tree and snap it off.
I peel off the bark, and I sharpen one end of my stick to a point, rubbing it against the concrete back porch steps.

I stick a marshmallow on my homemade skewer, and hold it over the smoldering coals.
There is an art to this: too close, and it burns; too far away, and it takes forever.
Just right, and the sugary white blob turns brown, like deep suntan, the innards sweet melty goo.

Any suggestions on how I can make this poem better? Please comment below.

I may drop off Weekend Writing Warriors for a while. All my stories are in the midst of rewriting. The stories you haven’t seen yet are too raw for human eyes right now; they need to stew awhile.

12 responses »

  1. I know, right? It was such a big part of the BBQ culture of the early 60s. All summer long we either hosted a weekend barbecue or went to one, played croquet or badminton or horseshoes, and at the end, usually around nightfall, the kids all roasted marshmallows.

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  2. I too now fancy toasted marshmallows! (Being a Brit, I find a lot of American BBQ customs a novelty! I was introduced to s’mores a few years ago on a visit to the U.S. and a friend sent me some Graham crackers so I can do them over here. I’m afraid I can’t help with the poem because I am no poet myself – but I did enjoy it!

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