Meatloaf with hard boiled eggs in the middle
in the middle in the middle
Meatloaf with hard boiled eggs in the middle
in the middle in the middle
and ketchup on the table when it's done
when it's done
Dad made meatloaf but not like mom
hard boiled eggs in the middle stay mum
Slice it and yellow yolk with white egg ring
didn't look so right but let ketchup do it's thing
Mom's was better but nothing like dads
hard boiled eggs flavor mom's never had
Cooking new ways can make a mystery meal
as long as after eating your tummy okay feels.
Meatloaf with hard boiled eggs in the middle
in the middle in the middle
Meatloaf with hard boiled eggs in the middle
in the middle in the middle
and ketchup on the table when it's done
when it's done.
somebody order a pizza...
A shabby shoebox on a shelf,
Lizards home have made for themselves
In the old box where sun motes dwell
And laid eggs inside gentle shells;
They waltz through scary shining days,
Hidden in a privileged haze,
Slight touch on the box and they`ve flown
To come back the next sizzling dawn.
is more fun than Easter,
for me.
I teach at
a Quaker school
and today was warm
and sunny
and perfect
for hiding easter eggs
in the long grass
and behind the benches
in the courtyard
outside the meeting house
where we go for Friday
morning meetings.
This Thursday
was the last day
before spring break
and we met
in the gym, instead.
I finished hiding the eggs
while I sweated
under the sun
on an 82 degree
late morning
in early April.
I was happy
in not taking
a single egg
for myself.
I hid a dozen
in the empty fountain,
two and three
tucked in little corners
of shade and sun,
and I tried to cover
the colorful ones
in the long, growing
grass.
Watching four
and five-year-olds
search desperately
and competitively
for eggs,
filled my heart
with gold, today.
One boy, a smart boy
didn't look for eggs.
He was too busy
finding dandelions
and pointing out
fire berries.
That boy
made my heart sing
today.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The rabbit paused mid-hop—quite stunned~
(A most peculiar sight!)
for scattered ‘cross the dewy grass,
like misplaced stars at night,
were eggs of blue, pink, and yellow,
some striped, some with polka dots
all polished, round, and bright.
She twitched her nose. "Now who," she mused,
“Left dinner out all night?”
One nibble… then a crunch! (Oh dear.)
A rather crunchy bite.
With ears aflop, she sighed, "Well then~
These rocks are not done right."
And so she hopped away, slightly miffed,
to find only one dandelion.
(The moral? Life is strange.
Some breakfasts—purely plastic~
are best admired from far away…
After swimming ashore
exhausted and on their last legs
when searching the beach
for somwhere secure to lay their eggs
two turtles who didn't see eye to eye
had a kerfuffle got in each other's face
and after a scuffle continued contesting
disputing the perfect nesting place
for altho' by the light of the moon
both were soon to be a mother
apparently they appeared to be
at loggerheads with one another
"Have me with tea and honey.
My upside is always sunny."
That would be the boast
of a breakfast I think funny.
"Though I'm a little runny,
I'm the best bet for your money",
said the egg on toast.
Mercy on the scrambled eggs I was reminiscing about.
When I flipped them over, there was a message.
Stripped down as a blade.
And my fingers are dazed.
Mercy on cabbages in the fridge.
Just popped in as if a cabbage patch lives nearby.
And my skeleton is laced up like eggs.
Patches of them.
I have enough notebooks bleeding everywhere.
Nonsense notebooks.
And when something is nonsense, they assume it’s like piano keys being played with my mind.
Mercy on all the pens that survived the surge.
Electricity.
They took all the lightning rods away like notebooks.
And my skeleton is seeking a better shelter.
Scrambled eggs.
Part of the surge.
Horrible.
The survival test taught me to leave messages.
Scratches up like bricks.
Mercy on the cabbages.
Mercy on the lightning rod.
Mercy on nonsense notebooks.
Lasted as long as stretching and yawning ever could.
Scrambled eggs.
Groaning too.
Bagels butter biscuits with
Raspberry Jam
Eggs
And
Keep the mystery meat Spam
Fruit
Apple Pancakes
Syrup hot
Tea ready to eat
Mary rushed out of bed.
She loved to feed the chickens most.
She'd collect all their eggs.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: 3rd place 2026
If a million chickens
laid a million eggs,
they'd all jump up and down
on their two million legs;
just think of it: a million eggs,
a million whites and yolks
would make a mile long omelet
to feed a lot of folks.
rare pretty ice eggs
produced by wind and water
in northern Finland
built a nest out of twin twigs
instead of a camp fire fire starter
laid eggs away from threats
instead of posing for bird watcher enthusiasts
brought home worms for babies' consumption
instead of baiting them for fished
flying against rural strong wind
instead of the resistance from urban polluted air
got printed on educational books
instead of having place in the world.
I wondered how her kiss would seem.
Drifting, I found out in a dream.
I felt the love that was concealed
as soft and tender lips would yield.
What do I want for breakfast?
The question surely begs.
I'll stop at Mabel's diner
for black coffee and eggs.
I slid into an empty chair
and gazed from her shoes to her hair.
Yet, I would not be unmasked
when my lovely Mabel asked,
"What do I want for breakfast?"
The question surely begs.
"I'm growing sleepy on the road.
I'll have coffee and eggs."
Her loneliness begs
Mine: come sometime just to meet.
Scared, it might lay eggs,
I waver, never commit,
And ever since from far greet.
_____________________
Tanka (Senryu + couplet) | 04.08.2025 | loneliness
three blue eggs
snug in a nest ~
spring at its best
AP: 3rd place 2025
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