Poetry a la tartare

Count me raw or medium rare but never well done

the meat of words I share still crawling from the stun

carry the smell of life as they bleed across my plate

cut with a pen as knife, very few, so as not to be overweight

Seared on flames of strife, smelling of smoke of the past

seasoned with the salt of life, to be eaten hot and fast

Canned phrases taste bland, lines overcooked loose their color

A poem's menu may be planned, too big a serving couldn't be duller

Reviews

[Marie]

A wonderful recipe for creating the very finest poem is shared with the reader in this absolutely absorbing poem. I love the title of the poem, it prepares the reader for the actual recipe to follow.
These two lines are my favourites : "Canned phrases taste bland, lines overcooked loose their color
A poem's menu may be planned, too big a serving couldn't be duller"
They are the beautiful red ribbon and bow on the bouquet of your words and bring the whole poem together for me! I love this poem so v-e-r-y much and I agree with each and every word you have written, dear poet. Thank you for sharing, Soren...

[Soren]

You again humble me with your words Marie I thank you for your encouragement and more than gracious words.

[Marie]

Dear Soren, you are always most welcome, dear friend...

[Thomas W Case]

Superb work. Powerful. Enjoyed it.

[Soren]

Thank you so much Thomas appreciate your kind words.