On cosy winter evenings, she delighted everyone
with perfectly shaped wontons and steaming soup
Reluctance fell drop-by-drop like chilli oil or vinaigrette
as she dressed the salad
while planning the outfits she would need
on her impending trip to the Wild West
“You have your fifteen minutes of fame”,
said the organiser, “may be less”
“You don’t receive awards under the glare
of television cameras every day.”
She staccato-ed her way to the dais on borrowed heels
palpably out of her comfort zone-
She raised a toast, delivered a rehearsed speech
in dulcet tones that sounded incongruous, like
red velvet on a hearty chocolate cake
She felt the chill in a strapless gown
and knew crafting an identity in town
was tougher than shaping a perfect wonton

Beautifully written, Reena.
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Thank you, Indira!
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My pleasure, dear.
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hi, Reena❣️
Just wanna let you know that this week’s W3, hosted by our beloved Shaun Tenzenmen, is now live:
https://skepticskaddish.com/2025/11/12/w3-prompt-185-weave-written-weekly/
Much love,
David
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👍
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*hug*
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I love the shift from warm wontons to stage-fright chill — it feels so real.
And that final line ties it all together with such a smart, grounded punch.
~David
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Thanks so much, David!
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It takes courage, and commitment. Also resilience, something I sense in you, Reena.
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Thank you so much for the huge compliment!
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Reena, this is a masterful combination of the prompts! Bravo!!
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Thanks a ton, Val! Means a lot coming from you.
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You are so very welcome!!
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Love the story, Reena and how you lead us to the conclusion. A well crafted observation of modern life and values. I particularly love this line: ‘Reluctance fell drop-by-drop like chilli oil or vinaigrette’.
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Thank you so much!
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Reena, I really admire how your poem holds the kitchen and the public moment side by side. It’s a deft re-shaping of the prompt to suit your purpose.
I read this as the wontons being more than just food — they’re the outcome of a place where real identity is shaped patiently, with skill and care. The shift to the award ceremony presents a clear contrast without overstating it: the social performance may glitter, but it’s the kitchen that knows who she is.
“Staccato-ed her way to the dais on borrowed heels” is a particularly strong line as it puts the awkwardness front and centre in the movement. I thought you judged the final return to the wonton perfectly; it brings the poem back to where the real work and the real self resides.
My favourite poem so far. And deserving of a better response than prose:
Warm dough on her palm,
folds remember who she is,
broth kisses the truth.
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Love the capping lines. And you got the flow right.
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I love that last stanza! Nolcha
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Thanks … Reena
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But also in the town it’s her wonton that will win in the long run I think
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Maybe, we never know. Or she may not feel the need to return 😊
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I love this Reena, vivid imagery, the comforts of the kitchen are a mirror to the social performance, while the latter may shine, the former has the real work of identity behind it🙌
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Thank you, Ange!
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What a wonderful use of the word wonton 💗
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Thank you so much!
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There’s something sexy about these words together “perfectly shaped wontons”! 👏
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I agree 😃😃
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She has her work cut out for her.
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There is no escape 😊
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A wonderful poem Reena. So true. And all for fading glory!
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You are bang on with the last line 🙌😃
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:>)
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Ah yes, love how you ended your beautifully composed poem with a bit of the truth.
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Thank you so much, Helen!
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