Pressure Cooker #17 Poem a Day

[Tinker]

Pressure Cooker

I remember my Mom
cooking stews in her pressure cooker
and I got mine as a wedding
gift along with a meat
grinder and flour sifter
now all relegated
to the back of the cupboard.

I have to admit
I was a little afraid
of my cooker
I watched like a hawk
while that round weight
on top rocked
back and forth
just waiting for it to blow.

So now
that same kitchen basic
makes headlines
I guess I was right
to fear it
it seems it is the perfect host
to send nails and ball bearings
into the legs and guts
of unsuspecting passers bye.

-------------------- ---Judi Van Gorder

More Boston Marathon Bombing poems see Frank's Marathon by Frank E Gibbard or my  marathon haikus or April 15

[Frank E Gibbard]

A solid take on the impalatable subject that has afflicted those poor people. My take in my poem labelled Not an NPM was directly about the race and of course wanting the perpetrators caught, your personal alusive point of reference the obscene misuse of domestic equipment is neatly done and pursuasive and thought-provoking. Those thoughts are with Boston, London will have a silence at the marathon on Sunday. Well done Tink addressing the sadness hereby. Frank

[Tinker]

Thanks Frank, I was just trying to share some of my thoughts as the news unfolds. I read your poem and had just posted my marathon haikus so thought to come back to your piece a little later to respond. I think when events like this happen writing about our feelings gives us an outlet. I remember writing about the subway bombings in London a few years ago. I include them here so I can put them in my Archive.

~~Tink

#103 7-7-05

commute subways bombed
common folk are targeted
cowards stike again

#102 7-7-05

London under siege
terror targets civilians
Brit's will not cower

[Frank E Gibbard]

Thanks for that Tink as a Londoner who well recalls. Only yesterday my friend in a pub, where else, told me about his son who as a firefighter carried a woman up out of the tube that had been bombed as she could not walk. Chilling stuff to hear of at first-hand.

Frank