Coffee
Morning delight
Perfect
Take my guts and peel my skin off
look me straight in the eye
no answer just silence
questions of freedom just gone.
Is this my father or a man in the mask,
force that I've never felt before,
now i know how far my body can fly,
across that hallway, till i hit the floor.
Darkness in the eyes of love,
looking straight at me as i get up,
"Go ahead and use it father"
" Feed that anger because tomorrow
you might not wake up"!
But before you swing that heavy arm,
just listen to my silence,
your kingdom screams, my heaven suffers,
you never told me if you loved me.
Without a question or hesitation,
decisions in my mind,
how could i think this way,
eat my breakfast now with my bloody lip,
these thoughts are your fault
i need you around, your death on my mind.
One day you will hit the ground,
chills down my spine,
hello freedom, now you are mine.
orange pekoe tea,
crispy soft pieces of toast,
bowl of strawberries...
and your gentle, loving smile...
the thoughtfulness in your eyes
I rarely eat my breakfast out
But, as a special treat,
We took our guests to Effy’s,*
Hoping that we’d get a seat.
It’s half a block from where we live
And breakfast gets a crowd.
We took a chance, though, and lucked out.
(Reserving’s not allowed.)
Surprisingly, the outdoor spots
Were filled, despite the heat,
But in the room inside, we found
A cool and calm retreat.
A varied menu let us choose
From middle eastern meals
To pancakes, wraps and sandwiches,
All with their own appeals.
We ate, we drank, we chatted
In a pleasant atmosphere,
The buzz of fellow diners
Adding to the Sunday cheer.
A break from a routine
Can often bring about a smile
And a state of satisfaction,
Even if once in a while.
*Effy’s Café on the upper east side of Manhattan
Let’s start with some rhyme..
I started the morning microdosing iced coffee
and scrolling the endless Internet sea
Similar to Odysseus’ travels in the Odyssey,
my sales were swelled by fashion amenities
and I was waylaid by sirens of curiosity
enough of THAT..
Ok, I have regrets. Last night I was talked into going to an after-party, when honestly, I was ready to go home. Why does Peter let me do that?
We were having enough fun where we were.
So, in this group of 10 or so, on foot, we tottered into an elegant restaurant where tiny plates that cost €40 held 4 actual bites of delicious food. We were sharing (with 1-3 other people). So, picking up the tab, I paid €400 and got what? Two bites?!
Still, with the energy of a club after midnight,
we finally got to the after-party and it was a delight
but with absolutely no food in sight.
Except two olives.
This morning I’m as ravenous as a Cyclops.
My order, placed early, would fill a triceratops.
For room service I’m toe-tappingly waiting
because the staff’s moving as fast as a Monet still-life painting.
.
.
A song for this:
Beauty and the Beast by Jump5
if you want your conversations to be
more stable,
Never having to sleep in the stable,
Then conversations over the breakfast table,
Or the tea table,
Whenever you are able,,
Will give you a life that is more workable.
A day planned at the table,
Means no dishes in the sink,
or on the table,
No crumbs on the floor,
As you are heading out the door,,
Giving no reason for the slamming of the door.
Congenial conversations over coffee at your table,
Brings others to the table,
Who will always respect you and your home,
Whenever you are home,
To enjoy conversations at your table,
So, you can have a life that is more stable.
.
gulp
then supper
there'z
leftover lunch
snack
shnap
')>
Plop! The fly falls home
just north of the hole. Brownie
spouts, "Breakfast is served!"
A whistling kettle of alluring mauve,
A steaming cup of tea that conveys love.
Sunlight dancing upon a polished floor,
While gentle breezes whisper at the door.
Wrapped within a blanket, downy and worn,
Reading into the silence of the morn.
These little echoes of a quiet grace,
Turn the cottage into a resting place.
When a friend’s in Manhattan,
Amid all the din,
A breakfast on Broadway’s
The way to begin.
A place near the theater
Where she has to go
Means a leisurely stroll
Will lead right to her show.
The food will pass muster;
The booths will be large.
The waiters won’t rush you,
So you’ll be in charge.
The crowds won’t be there yet,
If early you meet,
Making it much more civil
When crossing the street.
Then after your breakfast,
Once she gets on line,
You’ll stroll north on Broadway
To Arts and Design.*
The day’s just begun,
But your stomach and heart
Will be filled with the comfort
This meal will impart.
*Museum of Arts and Design
Oh
No
Ambush
Pastry strike
Side step avoidance
Half croissant still wins the morning
I eat demons for breakfast and plant them
Far away- Where no life is detected,
To spare another.
Your life does not call to see demons,
Simply so you can live it.
Some of us do not have that luxury-
Long ago we formed in darkness,
To travel to places that even nightmares
Cannot reach.
And that is why we can see what those
Cannot see.
Labels do not hinder us
I eat demons for breakfast and plant them
Far away – where no life is detected,
To spare the other.
You want to see angels and ghosts?
Careful of what you call into existence child-
For not all seeing is believing,
And not all will spare you either – And
Before you know it, nothing but fear
Will consume you.
I eat demons for breakfast and plant them
Far away – where no life will ever be detected,
To spare
You.
Some fried chicken and frying sliced spam
a tasty beef steak and Virginia fried ham
link sausage patties sausage sausage casserole
chicken fried steak and a pork chop on hold
Bacon of pork, turkey, beef and Canadian
a smoked fish and just in case another can of spam
Eggs eggs eggs scrambled poach over easy
sunny side up hard boiled and omelet cheesy
Hash browns skillet potatoes potato pancakes maybe
rice and a big iron skillet of morning gravy
Butter pancakes waffles biscuits and a honey bun
muffins corn bread, toast with jam or jelly by tons
French toast cinnamon roles and maple syrup to pour
a Pop Tart some bananas peanut butter on something for sure
A glass of cold milk or OJ and hot coffee with sugar and cream
So much food to feast on but why do I want to scream
A morning breakfast to feed and satisfy any living soul
but all the kids want to eat is Cap'n Crunch in their bowls.
The Warty Toad swells
as I stomp by his hiding.
Zap! He eats a fly!
Winner 8th place: 1459 New Poem contest, Brian Strand (4/03/26)
The party's over
You got in bed with the devil
And pulled the covers up over your head
It's a bed of your own making
Now you have to lie in it
And lie you have and lie you will
Over and over and over again
You'll toss and turn until morning comes
And after that sleepless night
It will finally dawn on you
It's time to wake up and smell the coffee
To go with your breakfast of crow
Which costs more than you will ever know
And we're all paying the price
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