Ode To Popcorn

Oh, popcorn
Oh, how you grow in a field with millions of your tasty relatives
And then how you are picked by machinery or foreign hands,
And processed in a factory
Dried, bagged, shipped
Oh, how I purchase you in a store,
And pop you in the microwave
Oh, popcorn
How you do smell, with your buttery flavor, enticing my taste buds
I hear you popping, but I cannot see you
I only see the bag filling up
And then I wait for the three seconds of silence to pull you from the microwave
Your pop slows, finally there’s silence
One Mississippi, two Mississippi, and then there on the third Mississippi
I hear a pop
Now I am confused
Do I pull you out and eat you?
Or let a few more of your kernels pop
As I wait for three more seconds of silence?
Oh, popcorn
How I love thee, so I will not wait
Because I do appreciate those half-popped kernels, with their tasty crunchiness
Now my fingers smell of your buttery flavor
And I shall be reminded of you all night long
Oh, popcorn

2 responses to “Ode To Popcorn

  1. That is a very beautiful poem, for I also loves popcorn, and I gets confused right at the end of the popping too.

    • Isn’t it horrible? And then they tell you to put it on 5 minutes, or whatever, and that’s never enough time… I guess that’s the price we pay for not getting a popping machine and doing it the old fashioned way.

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