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Array ( [sid] => 125295 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => The Albanian Diet. [time] => 2006-09-04 09:53:33 [hometext] => [bodytext] => In central Albania,
Travelling tiresomely on an overcrowded bus,
We reach a village outside of Kukova.
Oil-coated beneath heavily fumed clouds,
A village, I feel, invented solely to test new shades of grey.

We pass a cow,
A touch of nature in a barren landscape,
Hanging by its hind legs
Recently slaughtered according to local custom.
Steaming blood flowing from its throat
The bright crimson pouring out onto the street
Shocking the eye
Amidst the blanket of drabness.

Reviled I look away
To see my neighbour,
Unaffected by the sight.
Tucking hungrily into his bread and cheese,
While I prepare to renounce food for life.
No longer will my body accept it,
Such was the horror.

An hour or so later,
My stomach reneges on our deal,
I doff my cap to the possibility of food,
But never, I swear, never will meat cross my lips again.
The image of the cow still too clear in my mind.

That evening in a restaurant overlooking Gjirokastra,
The sun setting behind the mountains,
I peruse the menu
For the vegetarian special,
And order a steak.
Rare.
[comments] => 1 [counter] => 248 [topic] => 7 [informant] => faiton [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 6 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => HumorPoetry )

The Albanian Diet.

Contributed by faiton on Monday, 4th September 2006 @ 09:53:33 AM in AEST
Topic: HumorPoetry

In central Albania,
Travelling tiresomely on an overcrowded bus,
We reach a village outside of Kukova.
Oil-coated beneath heavily fumed clouds,
A village, I feel, invented solely to test new shades of grey.

We pass a cow,
A touch of nature in a barren landscape,
Hanging by its hind legs
Recently slaughtered according to local custom.
Steaming blood flowing from its throat
The bright crimson pouring out onto the street
Shocking the eye
Amidst the blanket of drabness.

Reviled I look away
To see my neighbour,
Unaffected by the sight.
Tucking hungrily into his bread and cheese,
While I prepare to renounce food for life.
No longer will my body accept it,
Such was the horror.

An hour or so later,
My stomach reneges on our deal,
I doff my cap to the possibility of food,
But never, I swear, never will meat cross my lips again.
The image of the cow still too clear in my mind.

That evening in a restaurant overlooking Gjirokastra,
The sun setting behind the mountains,
I peruse the menu
For the vegetarian special,
And order a steak.
Rare.

Copyright © faiton ... [ 2006-09-04 09:53:33]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: The Albanian Diet. (User Rating: 1 )
by Spike on Thursday, 7th September 2006 @ 06:12:30 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

A day in the life of...faiton, and a very different and engrossing write from you. This is more a travel monologue rather than poetry, but its a terrific description of rural life, and our citified revulsion to the realities of meat on the plate, which holds up only as long as we can offset hunger pangs with snickers bars and Red Bull (no pun intended).

A village whose purpose is to test new shades of grey ?-man, that's an image masterfully expressed. Obtuse thinking does pay off, eventually.

S

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