Maggots In The Soup Poem by Gideon Matungamidze

Appetizing to the eye, a salivating aroma,
Delicious it tasted when I took to taste,
And dunk, I did with much zest,
Like the famished Twist lad
My namesake Oliver, not bad,
Calling out for more, for seconds.

And the pot I emptied down,
It unveiled its residues,
Maggots in the soup,
Now wreaking havoc my health,
Causing me to loathe
The time I took to sit and eat.

All now tasteless in my memory,
Can't want to reminisce it,
My buds all are cauterized,
Acids from the maggots burnt them
When like a gormandizer, I licked
Spoon, finger and plate dry.

All is bleak and meaningless in life,
My innards are rotten,
Viruses, germs, bacteria from the maggots
Infested them when I dipped
My poker for the chunk drowned in the soup
And enjoyed for that second or two.

It was awesome to my eye,
It wowed my nose to the table,
Now woeful my limb and soul are,
And awful the soup has proven,
Its maggots have spoiled my life.

There are maggots in the soup,
That only the cruel cook knows,
No diner does,
Except by chance they see
(Albeit too late)
The maggots in the soup.