Imagine writing a poem
that looks like Swiss cheese.
Will the empty spaces
before and after every stanza
always be the words
you'll never say to me?
Think! What metaphor will
invoke the creaminess
spread thick on your tongue
as you eat herb-studded goat
cheese? Will thin orange shreds
of cheddar stuck in the grater
stand for the piles of confetti
you had me sweep up last week
in the rain? If the poem stinks,
how will you avoid the cries,
"Oh, no, not more limburger!"
You'll need to watch for patterns,
like how you'll rhyme gouda
when you mean to praise Buddha.
If you have to count syllables,
you'll need to choose spring
cheeses — the floral of brin d'amour
for May's new love, maybe
St. Nectaire for its grassy aroma.
You won't want the poem to go on
long. Somewhere in that last line
place a third course and more wine.
© 2014 Maureen E. Doallas
This poem, with a few changes, was written for last month's poetry theme — cheese — at TweetSpeakPoetry.