The Picnic
She doesn’t usually pack a pork pie to share,
or a big wedge of cheddar and soda bread from
the bakery, which she will let Jimmy think is
homemade, unless he asks, and she wouldn’t
usually pack two pickled onions, four gherkins,
a large Scotch egg, ripe tomatoes and cucumber,
or brown pickle chutney, and her best cutlery,
or her starched-stiff white damask linen tablecloth,
and certainly not her blue willow plates that she
bought at a penny sale, plus a red plaid rug
for them to sit on. Jimmy’s bringing lemonade.
She doesn’t usually agree to meet Jimmy
for a picnic under the big oak, which before
today had never been hit by a lightning strike.
A sonnet, that’s some what a food list poem. This is not at all what I set out to write (I should be writing a Cento for Miz Quickly), but this is what came out of my head. I’ve also shared it with dVerse Open Link Night ©️ Misky 2020.
It's Still Life 
13 responses to “The Picnic Sonnet”
To me this sounds like a dream never come true… but maybe it’s a good thing if the lightning strikes.
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I can be read either way, as a foreboding, or a sad remembrance. As a modern sonnet, that mentions food, this works like gang-busters.
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I’m glad it works both ways for you; that was my aim. I reckon a poem should be different things to different people. Thanks for reading it, Glenn.
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I find this intriguing and the food works well as I began to feel like eating a picnic ploughman style. I wonder about her personality and not the type to share? Then lightening strikes! You handle the sonnet form so well.
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That was an entertaining sonnet. Enjoyed the details but, as a reader I wonder about that lightning strike.
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This is absolutely stunning! The inclusion of lavish food blends perfectly with the sombre setting. The image of lightening strike puts me in the mind of dystopia. 💝
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I was hungry from reading the list of foods, smiles. I think something will strike at the end though. Love this picnic sonnet.
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All I can think of is the meticulous preparation that was made to set the scene for a memorable picnic were blasted apart by lightning. Still memorable, but not quite the same satisfaction. Excellent poem.
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ZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaapppp!
The Menu, the accoutrements, even Jimmy. Nothing matters; only The Nothing will remain.
This is one real-gone SONNET!
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A cento would have been a snack, but a picnic deserves to be a sonnet, especially with best cutlery, damask linen tablecloth and willow-pattern plates! Love the addition of pickled onions, gherkins and chutney! Oh no! Were they under the tree when the lightning struck? Or was it just a missed opportunity?
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I’ll let the reader decide the ending. ❤️
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🙂
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I think they just didn’t want anyone to know they were picnicking, and then an electric ⚡️ expository strike, 🤷🏻♀️
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