Best Breakfast Poems
Breakfast of Good-bye
fine remnants softly linger
along the edges - reminiscence,
soft ruffling of a curtain
tickled by a warm summer breeze,
cold scent of passion’s pillow
pressed into the face of yesterday,
lost shoe recovered from act one
flamboyant curtain call,
damp towel draped across a chair
auburn strands entwined,
dripping heart shape
foggy shower door,
wine glass blessed
her gentle passing kiss,
music faintly loitering
amid fading dream,
note that begged forgiveness
for the moment stolen,
fine wine, soggy pasta
breakfast of good-bye.
7/10/2015
Written & Posted, 3rd January 2025
For the International Contest, CHOOSE A 2025 POSTED POEM
Sponsor, Brian Strand, Judged 4th January 2025 (Second Place)
Poem of the day - 5th January 2025
I checked my watch and checked my phone,
but everyone’s in a different zone,
Eastern, Central, Mountain, Pacific,
maybe I should be more specific,
the dollar says in god we trust,
but love thy neighbour bit the dust,
I wasn't feeling all too great,
after that late night altered state,
shining my leather mourning shoes,
watching weather and breakfast news,
a gunman shot the truth today,
the eagle had been blown away
so had the snow white turtle dove,
won’t somebody tell me, what time is love?
Encamped in the local IHOP patio
Doing reconnaissance on the butter pecan syrup
I discern its malicious, aggressive intentions:
To march defiantly down Mt. Stack
And wage a ruthless attack on
Defenseless over-easy eggs
Acting quickly, I wield my fork
Digging trenches in my pancakes
I flank the enemy, staving off
This unprovoked act of aggression
Victory!
Only in that moment do I lift my eyes and notice
A brood of young sparrows
heralding their hunger
The chevron of hang-gliding geese silently
sailing to destinations unknown
Majestic Monarchs flitting
stoically southward
And rival suitors:
An iridescent hummingbird and an industrious bee
Romantically pursuing myrtle blossoms
The canopy of cerulean blue
And all the life within its realm
Resolves my thoughts from war to peace
Note to self:
Don’t forget to look up
Poetry for breakfast
Delivered with dollops of metaphors
Coated with delightful snippets of fun
Rolled in a skillet of imagery
My eyes dance with delight
As I read the words of my internet friends
Bringing poetry to life
Breakfast Kisses
6/14/2025
Soft and delicious, each day, something to look
forward to.
Velvet cheeks that welcome me, as fresh as the
lightness of morning dew!
Your body parts, oh how they forever with your
human dew, please me.
Let me be your golden orange, and gently, gently,
do squeeze me!
breakfast with the mafia
an early burbs Thursday
we watch them through the window
trying to figure out what they're saying
eating their new york bagels
while they plan and plot
we are watching for drive bys
making sure we know when to drop
one looks like Jr Soprano
he gets out of his chauffered car
we are guessing they're all packing
at least their bodyguards are
we wonder who's gonna get hit today
whose day's just might be numbered
we're glad that they don't know us
we don't have to be encumbered
the underworld is thriving
by the looks of this tight clan
they silence the moment someone walks by
so they don't overhear their plans
we hurry with our coffee
before Tony Soprano arrives
we just want to leave here
while we're still alive
Crunchy asteroids
Wet sand, cotton stones, masks, corn
Swimming in my bowl
In a little town
with a little street
and single traffic
was a tiny diner
with just a few people
among them Robert
and his wife Francine
who for twenty years
order the same things,
pancakes with butter
for mister Robert
omelette with truffle
for Mrs Francine
the same time forever
the same routine
but one morning
oh what morning
Bob came alone
and ordered for two
this is for Francine
said with some guilt
that came just alone
and time, what time
it was going quick
and Bob the postman
it was growing sick
pancakes and the omelette
were freezing quick
waiting for Francine
but she never came
because was killed
from a drunk driver
who got in wrong place
in the wrong exit.
Since then
Rob the postman
comes all alone
and orders for two
pancake with butter
and truffle omelette
the first is for me
second for Francine
she is coming late
because the traffic
after sitting lonely
with coffee across
he gets up,awake
goes back to work
aged a million
and totally lost...
Dr. Zhivago, 12 angry men Valdez is coming Clear and Present danger Scent of a woman Armageddon Medicine Man
Top Gun the ninth gate Dangerous minds, Milk money wings of the dove
Cider house rules and shangi noon
The shadow {knows} Bugsy the firm dangerous dogs Jack
Men of honor Quills WATERBOY
the way we were Dead Poets Society bird on a Wire 50 first dates
Never been kissed
gone with the wind Cactus flower Serpico The little mermaid
good will hunting unstrung heros
The Labarinth Wizard of Oz Miracle on 34 th street
Scrooge
Beguiled the good the bad and the ugly High plains drifter
Love Story, 2001 a space Odyssey 16 candles
Pretty in Pink Star wars The Robe...
He hurled his plate of meat-free food;
The waitress thought him rather rude.
“Full English breakfast here all day
“Or vegetarian, you say.”
The zombie pointed to the sign
And shouted loudly, “I want mine.”
“So bring him here – no, bring me two.
“Oh, what the heck, I’ll start with you.”
“But, sir, you can’t eat me,” she said,
As he was gnawing at her head.
“I’m not a veggie – I eat meat.
“Now please remain there in your seat.
“I’ll get your breakfast; say your grace.
“For twenty dollars, stuff your face.”
She dragged a vegan from the street
And said, “You’re good enough to eat.”
The vegan – soon a zombie too –
Demanded human…in tofu.”
Jack Horne For Linda-Marie's Creatures of the Night
The croissants of buttered hills
glisten in the searing marmalade
of August's arid oven.
September's cinnamon swirl
scorches muffin-colored homes,
the flames smothered
as October rains
send lives and mud
sliding into the ravines
like apple butter.
On Thanksgiving morning
survivors eat fall's charred breakfast,
then praise God in church.
In the milk of spring
they rebuild,
just like the last time
and the time before that.
Of all the flamin’ rotten luck I said alighting from me van;
kicked the wheel holding the flat to upset our touring plan.
We’re miles away from anywhere as I rummage through our gear,
for underneath our chock full load the spare is hidden here.
Then horror of all horrors, I cursed and swore then spat,
I’d forgot to check the spare and that too is flamin’ flat,
So we’ve ‘gotta’ wait for someone (which isn't often on this road).
Two hours we boiled in the sun before its back to travelling mode.
Another problem surfaced then for as the sun did set;
having no idea where we were and not accommodated yet.
In our headlights there's a change of luck - ‘B & B’s’ a welcome sight.
Me and the missus drove in hoping there’s room here tonight.
The old farmer with his torchlight walked us down the back.
With the beam he pointed toward a dirty run down shack.
The doorway’s full of cobwebs; windows were broken too.
He chased out a big goanna saying "Now it should be fit for you".
"Where's the toilet?” Asked the missus - “I usually visit through the night."
"I never thought of that” he said. “I'll make sure that you’re right".
He came back with a bucket, and said, "If you want privacy,
you will have to take the bucket behind the pepper tree".
Next morning just on sunrise the farmer knocks and says
"Hope I didn't wake you up - would you like bacon and eggs?”
"Yes please" we said together. “Can we have some coffee too?”
"Do you both take milk?" The farmer asked. We both replied "Thank-you".
As we packed up across he came to pick up our dirty plates.
I told him that his breakfast was one that highly rates.
"Your coffee's great" the missus said "You and your wife should take a bow".
"Why thanks” the farmer said. “Now where’s the bucket - I've ‘gotta’ milk the
cow".
Whatever happened to breakfast, lamented French Toast
People love me, gushing with syrup, I used to boast
But now my brand is flat as a pancake
~ as popular as a post-Halloween ghost
A dozen eggs beat back tears as they sat in a box
while patrons flocked toward the cream cheese and lox
Once a staple of a sound start to the day
~ now bagels and doughnuts hold sway
There there's whole milk and butter
lovingly culled from Betsy's best utter
Given way to that nebbish 'skim milk' and oily margarine
~ at their pale appearance I just shudder
But at least I pack my children a solid lunch ~
Peanut butter sandwich, corn chips, and twinkies to munch
Breakfast
I remain civil for that is the cloth from which I was sired and cut
Much regret is apparent and painful in your eyes but not for me to behold
They say that revenge is a dish that is best served cold, still I wouldn’t know
Just desserts are a lackluster way to describe your unrepentant folly
Day in and day out realizing that the prince was yours to have
But you have not nor do you seek the will or power to change your past
I still at times alone eat the same breakfast we used to lovingly share
Perhaps I could invite you to this five star repast but three is a crowd
So you finally realize that you’re stuck with less than nothing
And you have to take out the trash everyday.
This is my story about Menudo, and not the boy band Menudo
Mexican Menudo soup, known as the breakfast of champions
It’s what borracho’s, and Ricky Martin and all el mundo saludo
Chili mix, cilantro and lemon or lime, oregano, served in ramekins
A hearty feel good spicy tripe soup, honeycombed and hominy
Intestines of a cow, the stomach lining, an endearing word pancita
Who says culinary is always flattering, for it is part of the anatomy
Soup a Mexican woman slaves over, we’re grateful kind senorita
If you grew up with it, whether an acquired taste—it’s the bomb
The atmosphere is what you look forward to on every Sunday
With your familia, and then occasionally Ce Ce’s “friend” Tom
Most of the family erm, drink excessively all night long and stay
Menudo has healing powers, cures hangovers and homesickness
Save lemon for Tecate, after this concoction you won’t regret
Beliefs ring true, this broth is good for you, good for any illness
True, your uncles and older cousins will be dripping in sweat,
It’s spicy blends of seasoning flows through the blood stream,
And that’s why it is topped off with a bottle of chilled Corona
While discussing last night’s behavior, debating it was a dream
Teasing the little ones, and embarrassing they’re sister Mona
Extra lime, and beer for cooling down, served up in ramekins
Menudo, it’s the soup they call the breakfast of champions
Hangovers have come and gone, and we tend to eat less meat
My favorite recipe substitute’s tripe for Oyster Mushrooms
Tasty Menudo I made in many vegan styles, no one can beat
Chopped for texture and spiced up, the unique flavors of legumes
Successful accomplished and asombroso, serve in a bowl and heat