Struggling with Beef

[Sir_Nigel 10]

I’m trying to eat

but so tough is this meat

that I’m wondering whether

it’s actually leather.

 

But as I’m a guest

I know that its best

to chew for a while,

swallow, then smile.

To leave all this food

would simply be rude.

 

I can’t even cut it

but where can I put it?

A deft little toss to a slumbering dog?

smuggle it out to be flushed down the bog?

Could it be wrapped in a tissue or two

then slipped surreptitiously into a shoe?

If only the windows were open for air

with one little flick I could fling it out there.

 

My mind wanders back to the dinners at school

where battle-axe ladies, insistent and cruel

would force you to eat all the gristle and fat.

No meat could be wasted - that firmly was that.

So you’d bury it furtively under your mash

then off to the bin you would anxiously dash.

And with these accomplishments daring but shady

you’d fool the intransigent fat dinner lady.

 

But though I have tried it

there’s nowhere to hide it.

No chance to use

the old schoolboy ruse.

It looks like I’m beaten

this has to be eaten.

So all I can do

is sit here and chew,

 

But chew as I might

there’s no end in sight.

 

The meal drags on.

All hope is gone.

This dutiful  chore

is hurting my jaw.

 

You may ask, my friend,

just when this might end.

The answer is never.

I’ll be here for ever.

I’ve blunted my knife now,

this is my life now.

 

 

 

If someone you see

asks what happened to me -

wondering why

I no longer drop by,

tell them I perished

saving someone I cherished

as we sought and destroyed

a rogue asteroid.

Or I couldn’t restrain  

a runaway train.

Or fires were braved,

orphans were saved -

I dragged ‘em outside

and then alas, died.

 

 

Not met a sad end

trying not to offend,

trapped in a room

in a permanent gloom,

day after day

just fading away

attempting to eat

some inedible meat.