Home » Poems » M. L. Kiser » Brats and Poetry

Brats and Poetry

I stoked the flames with another gnarled branch as its sparks popped and crackled out a song into the silence. Just a cold and lonely evening of dinner and poetry; I wanted nothing else. With a skewer full of Brats and a waiting blanket of mustard-laden bun, I held bulging Brats in the dancing flames, till it was a lovely shade of mahogany; I poured a glass of Cabernet bliss and dined on hot succulent and spicy Brats and toured Jim Morrison’s mind; as warmth penetrated my aching, arthritic bones…ah…

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

Caren Krutsinger

Date: 1/14/2019 10:12:00 PM

Aha. I think what you are calling 'brats' is what we refer to as 'brauts' in my corner of the world. This makes more sense, so I am going with it - especially the "spicy brats' - brats in the midwest means out-of-control-children who will not behave. I do not see you relaxing much after you skewer them. Nice image of you dancing to Morrison's music.

M. L. Kiser
Date: 1/15/2019 6:42:00 AM

Thanks so much. I like Morrison's poetry, very much.