The Curry

The Curry

For the second sonnet of September, I am posting a Spenserian sonnet. These are very similar to Shakespearean sonnets like the one I posted last week in that they are written in iambic pentameter and consist of three quatrains (four lined verses) and a couplet (though the structure can, of course, be varied). The main difference is in the rhyme structure. Whereas a Shakespearean sonnet follows the structure a-b-a-b, c-d-c-d, e-f-e-f, g-g, a Spenserian sonnet follows the structure a-b-a-b, b-c-b-c, c-d-c-d, e-e. It’s all quite fascinating.

The story of this poem is a trip I made to an Indian restaurant in Tooting a few weeks ago with my friends. The food was delicious but all too plentiful. We left feeling rather bloated.

The Curry

Just through the door my nostrils burned with spice
And beautiful aromas filled the air
A plan was made to order pilau rice
Samosas, bhajis, and king prawns to share

I tucked into my meal without a care
And drank a double stout to wash it down
We heartily agreed the price was fair
But, one by one, each smile became a frown

My chicken ceylon, beautiful and brown
Was quite enough, my hunger for to quell
But with each dish that came, we went to town
Then left the table feeling quite unwell

I knew as I stepped out that I would rue
Ending the meal with half a sag aloo

The curry consumer's cushioned companion.

The curry consumer’s cushioned companion.

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