Keith Bickerstaffe Poet Verse

Breakfast of Champions

Domestic beer and cheap cigars 
inflame my lyric flare,  
spark my anxious urge
to create something readable,
splurge into visions of sugarplums,
flights of pure fancy, till I have a 
poem distilled in my brain.

The struggle to articulate is 
pure and simple pleasure, 
making mountains out of molehills, 
silk purses from sows' ears,
perched at my computer 
with my dreams and foolish wishes.

So I'll smoke another stogie, 
free a beer from the refrigerator,
write another silly verse to share 
with God knows whom;
I'll keep shunning good nutrition
and be grateful to my muse
'til they lay me cold and lifeless in my tomb!

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Maurice Rigoler December 20, 2015 at 9:19 PM To each his own, sir, but I must tell you I abhor all forms of smoking, but the stogie in particular. Happily we're separated, so smoke all you want but I hope you keep living to write more poems. Thanks for you many stops. / M Keith Bickerstaffe December 20, 2015 at 9:26 PM I used to smoke... but no more. I haven't for ages. This is pure fiction, right down to my dietary indiscretions! The title id from a novel of the same name by Mr Kurt Vonnegut. Thanks for your support and encouragement. Keith

Francis Osho December 20, 2015 at 1:20 AM you are awesome keith. i like you the most in the soup Keith Bickerstaffe December 20, 2015 at 7:08 AM Thanks Francis... you are most kind! Best wishes, Keith