This poem was written by combining 5 random verbs (balance, fate, moan, peck, peep) with baking nouns (cupcake, flour, mixture, pan, sugar)

 

The mixture is all out of balance.

Don’t moan, don’t make a peep.

Because putting this all together isn’t an exact science;

you won’t end up with a pan of cupcakes.

 

Pecking at me won’t help either.

You get more flies with sugar, but ask yourself,

Who really wants flies?

 

You can screw up your face,

but it won’t turn flour into toast–

That sort of alchemy doesn’t work

and it won’t convince me, either.

 

It’s all nonsense, it’s all just chance;

throw it in the pan like a stir-fry

and see what we can get.

 

That mixture, even if it is out of balance,

could feed us for tonight, maybe

sate some of our hunger.

We’re left with the thirst, but we can sleep

tonight with full bellies

and aching limbs and longing hearts.

 

Out of balance doesn’t mean ruined.

A fallen souffle

a crumbling cake with runny frosting

bacon with just the edges burnt

Eat it. Don’t let it go to waste.