Long Breakfast Poems
Long Breakfast Poems. Below are the most popular long Breakfast by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Breakfast poems by poem length and keyword.
...His starting point, after much hustling,
was a diner at the edge of the town,
the man who had once built massive bridges
now spent his days at work frying hash browns.
Working for a pittance, day after day,
the only place that would dare give him pay.
About three months into doing such work,
just after the breakfast rush was complete,
he saw a woman enter the diner,
with two young boys, she looked about forty.
Time had done little to Alan’s ex-wife,
Whitney was a queen, hallowed in his sight.
He tried to hide, but Whitney caught a glimpse,
a flabbergasted look clear on her face,
but he made no move to go talk with her,
and she had two kids, could not leave her place.
His heart pounded until Whitney had left,
seeing her moved over felt much worse than death.
She had proclaimed that she would stand with him
when the accusations first had been made,
but the media had taken its toll,
he had watched her resolve drain, day by day,
until the day that the verdict had come,
when he’d been locked up, then it had been done.
She’d started divorce, he didn’t contest,
it was something he could not do to her,
she’d wanted children, normal existence,
all the things that a good woman deserved.
With him in prison, that would be denied,
so he’d signed the papers, and said goodbye.
It had been simple, before he’d been freed,
when he had not had a reason to hope,
now, seeing her, with some other man’s kids,
seemed beyond his ability to cope,
a wound that wouldn’t heal, slowly bleeding,
making him question the point of being.
But the next day, when his shift was over,
and he was walking slowly for the bus,
he saw a G-wagon, and his Whitney,
and his heart started racing then because
there were no kids there, no shield she could use,
confronting this was what he could not do.
But she came forwards, her face fresh with tears,
struggling hard to keep herself composed,
until she broke down, and embraced Alan,
saying, “I’m sorry…how-how could I know?
I’m not sure how to deal with this because
I don’t know why she would do this to us!
“Now I’m left looking at a man I love,
that I abandoned, I’m ashamed it’s true…
We were so happy, but now all I see
is all the things that I’ve taken from you.
The life you deserved, that I thought we’d build,
her lies and my weakness…it’s all been killed.”
CONTINUES IN PART III.
I am fascinated by space science because it is so divine. I am fascinated by space science because everything it entails is sublime. Human operates machine and machine work for human; human input the information but the machine regurgitates it.
Its AI and automation against human invention, e-commerce and job outsourcing in reverse. If you cannot pay me let me go to those who are willing to hire me, but please don’t use me and then you discard me. You lurk behind the screen saying that you have run out of money and you cannot bring me back to fulfill my dreams.
I don’t join games because I don’t know to play them, I don’t play games because am not good at winning them. I don’t play games because I don’t know the rules and sometimes it leaves you confused. I approach everything in life in a pragmatic and realistic manner.
You place the burden on the commuter saying that it is giving the order; computer is not human and someone must operate it to transfer the information to you, oh what silly deprivation. You are trying to elude reality and not living up to your responsibility, the ship will be at the surface on time and you must give me what is mine.
You have built more than a dozen space ship with words dripping from my lips; you have sent missions to the moon with words burning from my finger tips and vinegar is draining in my lungs; with swollen fingers and broken palm words flow from my heart into the computer gut before dawn, and then you slice it up and serve it for breakfast dinner and lunch and disrespect my painful sacrifice, and you call it AI.
I work day and night and because I don’t know how to fight I continue to stretch myself to fulfill a mandate for the moon. You send me into the space to explore the galaxy and look into the black hole to see where gravity is bold and the space around the corner lit up with billions of stars flickering in the night, oh what a wonderful sight.
Will machine eventually take over human lives after decades of painful sacrifice? Will machine takes over our lives and leave us without a dime? Nights upon nights the human brain toil to fill the machine sitting on the throne but sometimes the gripe is so strong it vomits out on the land and my eyeball spread the words all over the human race and squeeze matter into tiny space. It man against woman and one woman working with computer.
Though I'll remember nature's wonders,
sunsets and the breath of spring,
feel the wind blow through my hair
and know the thrill of sunrise cresting.
We see the universe as dancing,
two such different creatures trancing,
we two will never understand
the private notions of the other,
even if we take each other's hand.
Coming close to your destruction
you will see the other side,
who says who has satisfied
requirements for a better life?
Friendship, if we could but find it,
yields the seeds of greater profit,
greater than the seeds of strife.
I now remain just as I ever was.
I shall take my morning walk,
communing with the birds and talking
to myself while reading Kafka,
glancing at the latest headlines.
Dear Stravinsky's 'Rite' is slighted,
(he'll return when ears are righted.)
When I smell a rose I'm prompted
to recall a certain lady, gifted with
a new perception, I must sadly
take exception, for the moment anyway.
The chill of morning, people yawning,
I am tired, the blush of dawning has me
feeling ill at ease, my spirit sags,
I barely reach the second floor.
'When will you return? Is Paris so much more
than you have here?' is my unanswered question.
I drag my heels to breakfast,
listless as a lazy dog, and nibble toast,
my countenance as pallid as a ghost.
A letter would be welcomed.
I shall miss you; there, I've said it.
I am your friend, are you not mine?
Tenuous and strained, two casual
acquaintances who share so little time,
we brush elbows, like strangers passing
on a platform, sharing sidelong glances,
afraid to say hello. I watch you as you go.
Others swore we would be close,
peas in a pod, familiar.
Instead there is no warmth, not yet.
Were you to try we might combine
and nibble toast together, and take
a walk, your hand in mine, and
stammer conversation 'til we knew
there was no reason e'er to rue.
I shall sit with pleasant thoughts of you.
Desperate, I ponder on your death,
scant breath expended twixt the two of us,
and loneliness an ache too harsh to mention,
pen in hand and no one to subscribe.
I'll scarce recall the softness of your skin,
or search your heart to find what lies within.
Should I be bold, or take a gentler path?
encourage you... would I incur your wrath?
If you were to die I'd never know your truth,
and I should lose the vigour of my youth.
Panting, running, paying, fuming,
Bumping, swearing, hurrying, driving,
All because today is the thirty first
Of the month, why are we all nigh to burst!
Got to buy groceries, go the butcher
The dry cleaners, the florist, the baker,
Did i turn on the slow cooker?
Have guests coming at 8.00p.m still
On the road, home in 15 minutes – phone Will,
Darling, Did you collect the birthday cake,
There is a big accident, traffic hectic won’t make
It to pick it up – Yes sweetheart I have
Drive carefully the roads are crazy,
Looks like a storm brewing, weather drizzly and hazy.
As I arrive in our driveway it pours with rain,
And I drop a packet, which had the red wine, I stain
My clothes and the car seat, go have your shower,
Hubby says, relax, everything is under control,
Turned shower taps to their full strength and power
Exhausted, let the water run over my naked body
Till I feel refreshed, get dressed in my
Sexy black number,
And come downstairs, hubby gives me a wolf whistle,
Just wait till the guests leave he says, look at him
From under my lashes!
The aroma wafting from the stove is
Provocatively divine!
And next to the sofa is a glass of room
Temperature red wine.
Table is set, arrange flowers I brought in a vase,
Immediately, the bell goes ding dong,
It’s Cherry and Tim,
She couldn’t wait to show me her engagement ring,
Hot on their heels are Susan and Barry,
He has just asked Susan to him marry,
And last of all my twin sister Rina, arrives she’s wise,
With her new boyfriend in tow she bellows, Hi guys!
Fun was had and wine was drunk
Laughter abounded in the lounge and dining room,
We all forgot how tired we were and
It was end of the month, and all the media forecasted,
Was doom and gloom!
It was my birthday, turning forty, no turning back now,
Don’t regret a day of my life, bless the day I took my vow,
Happy birthday dear Mary, happy Birthday to you,
I felt blest had my hubby and sister present and select
Friends but few,
Mellow and happy and with certainly no one drunk,
Just four happy couples full of zest and funk!
Our guests began departing, in twos they left,
I slipped of my shoes and gave a big yawn,
Will picked me up, and must have undressed
Me – for all I remember is waking up to a peck
On my cheek,
And a scrumptious breakfast in bed,
I always knew I had picked the right guy to wed!
Tale of two angels
who lived in a poor neighborhood
who thought nothing would work
but God knew it would.
Everyday they woke up to nothing
no food, no water, no new clothes
but no one knew
but only God knows.
Their mother prayed everynight
to the Lord on the thrown,
wishing all her tears and troubles
would one day be gone.
She did the best she could
all that she could
to raise her beautiful daughters
on her own and everyday this is what she told them.
"I gave you wings to fly
and a mouth to confess and never tell a lie.
I gave you lungs and air to breathe
I gave you a shoulder to lean on
when you couldn't beat the speed."
One Christmas Eve,
the girls were bored
so their friends invited them to a church.
Instead of having nothing to do,
in the church they did discover who...
they discovered a youth meeting being held
in the back of the church.
They walked into the room
just as steady as they pleased,
they sat down on their knees
and listened to what their was left to say,
which made them quite pleased.
They went home after the sermon,
went to their room, got on their knees
and began to cry, they sat on the floor
in her time of weakness and dispare
to think and wonder how much their mother really cared.
Shouting out to the Lord, they did scream
their love for God had grown
every stitch and seam.
"Lord she has done so much
to provide for us
now can you hold her hand and stand beside us.
Christmas is not about presents, it's about
celebrating your birthday, your name
its not about growing up in fortune and fame.
Lord you are God
and we know you will provide
but I pray this pray
to the heavenly father that sits on his thrown
in the sky." They prayed this prayer over and over again
until there was nothing left to hear
except for the sound of the wind.
The next morning they woke up to find
a tree full of presents,
a table with breakfast already made,
and a dinner being prepared as if for a hundred slaves.
The family rejoiced
because God would always make a way
when things were going wrong
a way was made out of no way.
He started with little and everything multiplied
they rejoiced so much
their praises did reach the sky.
It started to rain
"Don't worry child, Jesus is crying
and rejoicing to because we are so blessed
to have two little angels like you."
Form:
Bone-drained, there is no respite, no split second of peace. The “sundowner”, a hyper-active toddler in a man’s vehicle, never sleeps nor sits.
When I succumb to that one precious moment of rest; I am awakened to a furnace running full blast in a freezing cold house and on a nineteen degree night. A butter knife has removed a window; the culprit and dementia-mind panics; he’s terrified of being trapped in a fire. There’s no arguing with dementia-mind; it’s best to play along with the his ideas.
Another day of madness and I awake to a frantically screeching doorbell; it’s his nurse. I've revived in the floor. A migraine faint pulled me down; I’ve had no sleep for eight nights, you see. Sweet respite…she says she’ll, “sit with him”, so I can lie down a bit; a pleasant miracle; such happenstance is a rarity.
Dementia-mind has no solutions, only hallucinations, delusions; absence of mind and aggression for the “sundowners”. I watch at breakfast, as he pours his milk upon the floor; he has no clue of what he is doing or why;
he stares, mindless. When the eyes go blank it’s obvious; he’s not in there. A robot gone haywire, used to be my Father. The last thing to go, were his mathematical skills. Dementia-mind has forgotten so many people; how to swallow, but recalls numbers…
“Who is that man?” he demands, pointing at himself in the mirror. My exhausted mind briefly forgets and I mistakenly reply, “You dad.” The firestorm is initiated; he calls me a, “liar”. Self recognition has failed him now; the flame of his mind is burning low; soon to extinguish.
He’s fed and dressed, but I’ve no time to eat; if he should sleep an hour today; I must cook for the week. It’s the only opportunity I have…when and if he sleeps. I must not go to the bathroom; he’ll break something or fall. I must hold myself until my sister arrives.
The “passives” are painful to watch, as they deteriorate, but the “sundowners” are constant exhaustion. I was in the ER, almost as much as, he. You see, there’s no one to care for the caregiver, but themselves and when they can’t, exhaustion and malnutrition escalate. Dementia-mind is round-the-clock work and two doing the work of six people, takes its’ toll. The disease never discriminates; it destroys everyone.
(My Father died with dementia, a form of Alzheimer's in 2003, after a 15 year battle.)
Whispering in the dark,
Your hand around my waist
I hear you say “you love me”
All I hear is the deceit in your breath.
You been creeping, thinking I didn’t know.
Laying here with my eyes wide open.
Pretending to sleep, you don’t even notice.
But how can you when your being is laced with lies.
I feel the young girl's hands on yours.
Her sweet purrs rock your body and transcends into mine.
I am a woman and I know.
It’s dark out, its dark inside,
Will you ever admit your infidelity?
Or will it get worse by morning light.
The girl be calling everyday when you in the shower,
She be texting while you eat my breakfast.
You turn,kiss me goodbye, your smile reminds me of the devil.
As I watch your silhouette dance towards the woman you creep with.
Do you even notice the rage and the thunder?
Or you just cast a blind eye and carry on.
Your band feels heavy on my hand.
It’s a diamond I adored once,
But now all I see is sand, why does it even sparkle.
When the sparkle I had is now an icy stare of hate.
You call during the day, tell me you miss me.
I wonder how you can say that,
Do you even miss me or you just need a beacon.
A woman who will catch you when you fall?
I hear her voice in yours, I hear the echoes that still my soul.
I can’t even blame her, I am not even mad at her.
I can’t help but wonder, if she even knows.
If she does, she is set for a life of mishaps.
No bad deed ever go unpunished.
If she doesn’t, she is set for a life misery.
I can’t even be mad at him.
This emotion that I have has surpassed.
I feel nothing but rage multiplied.
I gave him my all, he gave me His all.
It’s all up in flames, it’s all up in ashes.
You obviously can’t be seeing with your soul.
For your eyes are now a mirror of misconception.
You will not even notice my dry tears,
Or the wave of fire in my bones.
Will it surprise you if you wake up alone one night?
I doubt it would, that’s why my fear has melted.
How can I leave in the midst of a situation?
A situation I can easily fix, maybe you would notice then.
Will I use a piece of steel, to silence you immediately?
For silence is what your love has been for two years.
Or will I just choke you, leave your breathless.
For all those nights you breathed out perfume and lust.
Will I even call it even or will I walk and forget you ever existed.
© Herzel Poshiwa
As the end of a long day now approaches
Like a candle flame almost spent
The sun and its expanding rays
Now hides away with contempt
With stealth and silence,
The light of day starts To dim
And the harsh realms of darkness
Now creep and start to flood in
Its velvet shroud stretches across
The expanse of sky high above
Spring has finally sprung
And harboured thoughts turn to romance and love
The stars shine down in profusion like twinkling diamonds
In a pincushioned sky
Then somebody took them
And put stars in my true love's eyes
We made love all night
In our cosy warm feather nest
With so much tender mutual giving
Honesty and ferness
Lost another galaxy far away
Heaven blessed
Wrapped up safe and snuggly in each other's arms
Her sweet head resting on my chest
We drifted off into the adventures
And unfolding landscape yet unseen
Into the valley and islands
Of our dreams
The clock hanging on the wall
Ticked away our heartbeats
Beating the same tempo no missed beat at all
The sun rises and smiles down once more
An awakening and birthing of a new day born
The newly strengthened sun pushes the moon far away
Like the moon pushed the sun away
With the mist of morning now clearing
Exposing the nakedness of the land disrobed by the day
The morning moist dew
The likes of fallen tears
Cling to the plants and grass
Until the dries them and they didapper
The musky odour and perfume of two lovers
That last night made love
Still wafts in the air
Up above
The sunlight peeps through the now open window
As my sweetheart opens her limpid sleepy eyes
That always tells how much she loves me hearts aglow
And what made her marry me
All those years ago
I have to smile to myself
Just how beautiful and cute she looks
Even with a little sleep left in her star filled eyes
Her hair in such a mess like the nest of a rook
Laid by my side
She tells me that she loves me
Then kisses me like a butterfly
Kisses the heart of a flower leaving me in ecstasy
She shuffled her sweet feet to find her slippers
Puts on her dressing gown
And puts the kettle on and makes breakfast
When I or she heads for the staircase and then goes down
I think to myself just how much I am blessed
To have such an angel
And she's the best.
As I awake I hear singing coming from the window Opening up the blue curtains I see trees swaying in the breeze Looking closer I see a bird's nest Little ones waiting for breakfast Where is mom with their food Here comes mom with breakfast in bed
At the end of a busy day before I hop into bed I must check out the window for my little new friends They have been tucked into their bed of twigs Now I must be tucked into my bed of soft blankets
Each morning I awake to singing As the weeks go by the singing is getting louder The little ones are getting bigger They are getting a beautiful feather coat
Today I awakened to no singing I ran to my window and tore open the blue curtains The nest was now enemy My friends had grown up and flown off The mama bird sat looking at me We both felt sadness as a tear ran down our checks
Date Written:7/20/2021
Finding Your Muse Poetry Contest Sponsored by: Regina McIntosh
Yes, our Creator's Love; this always comes and it goes between to good people and or thing, and in and between Him just as each uses this all; to remain faithfully helpful; to this effort of remaining lovesome for Him, and for one another, and for all life; or; possibly not. But oh yes; to share in this effort with a grateful and ever-gracious gusto!
Yes, fond are these memories running parallel with the truth, but to have loved, just once. Though I would want this again, our Creator in His Goodness, tells me not to worry. His goodness is with all of us on this journey.
Because my faith is hopeful and honest and so is fate.
Propitious the rondos' end-bold in their generous concatenation. Yes; frilly whirlwind June bugs caught up all about us flopping around in their daily dallying, teasing, and toying all around and again waylaying around way to way infinitely, have left me rather intrigued.
As the many shimmering Trout billowing up soaring about aloft and afoot each sometimes a foot and a half or two above the waters under the clear skies above us fall back down into the surface to try and catch them as the shadows floundering, and floating around ever gingerly, and ever-swiftly now all aloft within their effort to greet the Sun, and; the Son; cast their jest of all of this effort upon Jamie and me. Yes, and so in their haste to catch a little glips at a meal, out fly fishing under the full moon so bright a part of the glimmering stars with little Jamie now I have faith enough to know, with our Creator being in charge of all our blessings; and luck! One or two maybe three Trout they'll soon be in our buckets tied up hugging the shore there for breakfast.
But still and yet with no bait. To pick up one, then even several more a floating bug, to tie them up as the bugs themselves I know too now follow after a purpose. Yes, this would be to bring, a sweet, honeysuckle to the Trout; and to be as faithful give to all one a taste as fresh a Love Everlasting.
To live I would die to uphold them in their prominence, given the opportunity of this challenge. Because if it all is still a challenge for my faith to embrace the elements and apparent facts; knowing that fate always provides another opportunity; my faith is humbled. Because my faith I know today is as honest as what it follows after, now, here and hereafter.