The picnic

Help! I’m in a pickle.

The pickle’s in a jar;

The jar is in a hamper

On the back seat of a car.

We’re going to a picnic

I don’t know what to do:

When they eat the pickles up,

I’ll be eaten, too.

This is a disaster.

They think it’s just a lark

To hear birds sing and nibble things

Down at the local park.

I’m really in a pickle;

I must get a message through.

If I can’t send this call for help,

I’ll be chomped in two!

Jessica Nelson

• Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #32

Jessica said: I usually write poems in two stages. I’ll have an initial blaze of inspiration, during which most of the writing happens. Then I’ll let the writing stew over the following days (or weeks), making small changes until it feels right.