Long Breakfast time Poems
Long Breakfast time Poems. Below are the most popular long Breakfast time by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Breakfast time poems by poem length and keyword.
Good morning children! Rise and shine!
15 minutes until breakfast time.
Hurry up or you’ll be late.
David!! Do not say the word hate.
BECAUSE, it is not a nice word
No Sierra, we are NOT getting a bird.
BOY, you are pushing me.
One more time and I’ll put you over my knee.
Sierra!!! ShyAnne! Get out of bed!
Get dressed and brush your head!
No! Not five more minutes!! Now!!
Come on you guys, get in here and eat some chow.
ShyAnne that doesn’t match, well at least change your shirt.
Sierra! Stop! What do you mean your leg got hurt?!
So it just mysteriously hurts for no reason!?!
David no teasin’. NO TEASIN’
Are you dressed yet?
Why is your shirt wet?
Boy, you have toothpaste in your hair.
ShyAnne. Stop whinning. What’s not fair?
Breathe. Breathe. Big and deep. Breathe.
Sierra! Give it back! What ever it is…. Just. Give. it. Back.
What do you mean you can’t find your backpack?
ShyAnne, get dressed you’ll miss the bus.
No .. I’m… not… gonna… cuss.
Brush your hair. Well do it again, you didn’t get the back part.
No!.. No!…. No whinning. Don’t start.
No you can’t wear skates to school.
Idon’t know it’s just the rule.
Sierra quit jumping on the bed, what happened to your hurt leg?
NO! no skates at school!! It doesn’t matter how much you beg!
David! DAAAAAAAVVVIID!! Where is your other shoe?
Well son, I don’t wear them so I don’t have a clue.
Well ShyAnne, if you would have went to bed when I said, you woundn’t be sleepy.
What ? Who ? Who went pee-pee?
Sierra, you look like a clown, get that make up off your face!
Come on guys pick up the pace.
David go change you clothes.
It doesn’t matter which pants, just wear those.
15 more minutes, miss the bus and your gonna walk.
Child! Where is your other sock?
Yes!! You have to wear a jacket! It ‘s cold outside.
Well wear the pink one and don’t leave it on the slide.
Kisses. Bye guys. Have a good day!!
I love you!1 Be good. Learn something today.
Stop pulling your sisters hair and get to the bus stop.
Hurry up you guys! Chop! Chop!
Well Thank God there they go!!
I miss them already though.
Sarah Comstock
1-25-2010
Form:
My path beyond the shores of time
from life to there are maritime ripples.
Harrowing blades of rain
hammered from storm-clouds shatter puddles
of glass to rolling streams of echoes,
Misery’s trail towards cleansing waters:
A bloody throat gasping for water
is my alarm clock each day, it hurts all the time.
I drink and gurgle, but none of it matters, echoes
butcher my esophagus with hack-saw ripples
as knees tumble to drown in rusty puddles;
My lungs are a prison withered by the warden’s reign.
This morning I woke to the 13th straight day of rain
in Houston. From my condo overlooking the water
Clear Lake slept like a sidewalk puddle.
In July, humidity is a visceral sweater, sweltered by time
stitched in ‘X’s and needle-strung ripples
suffocating ragdolls in sweat-stained echoes.
I took my coffee on the balcony. Through iron-rods came an echo
redolent the voice of an angel; “Why’s it gotta rain
all the time, daddy?” she asked in wavy curls and golden ripples.
More clever then, I quickly responded, “Because god has to water
his plants, Ava, that’s why it rains all the time.”
It used to be I smiled as she twirled through puddles.
The morning sky darkened as shadowy thorns continued to puddle.
Nearby lightning cracks hid from thundery echoes.
With each explosion my locomotive doubled its time;
Faster and faster screaming and taunting the rain,
inebriated veins screeching “Ice-water!” -
…and then a stillness overtook me. The warden sighed a calm ripple;
From a dream my eyes bathed in tranquil ripples
of shimmering obsidian disguised as puddles.
Behind me were footsteps painted with water.
A song I knew from Radiohead was echoing
a muffled chorus through sliding glass doors; “broken hearts make it rain,
broken hearts make it rain” and I remembered a happier time.
Then ripples staggered down my spine. Tingling echoes
were empty puddles violated by rain in my fingers and toes.
I again looked down at the water and thought, “Better get movin’, it’s breakfast time.”
8/11/2016
2nd Place in contest "Rain" judged 9/10/16
Piper’s day started same as the rest.
At breakfast time she made a big mess.
What’s going on? I feel very energetic.
My paws keep moving but I can not let it.
She sees the girl heading out of the door.
It is there wide open so Piper ran across the floor.
Piper ran outside between the girl’s feet.
The air smelled so fresh that Piper rushed to the street.
Sniffing the air then looking both ways
Piper crossed the road enjoying her dog days.
Soon the clouds moved in but Piper ‘s nose was to the ground.
The rain started pouring as she smelled her way around.
Further and further she went into town.
Til she came to the park where the grass had turned brown.
Her paws were wet and she started tog et cold.
She thought, “It’s time to go back before a flu takes hold.”
With paws all muddy she made it tot he street.
Her tummy was rumbling and she needed to eat.
She looked around but knew nothing around her.
She had to find home to eat and dry her fur.
Piper sniffed and sniffed but the air told her nothing.
Not how to get home or what might be coming.
This wasn’t good. Piper started to get scared.
She should never have run out of the house unprepared.
She missed the little girl. She wanted to go home.
She shivered and cried feeling all alone.
She walked down one street then turned down the next.
This town was too big, noisy and complex.
Piper dodged a car, weaving back and forth
to get across the street and head straight north.
From out of the blue she heard a call.
It was her own name but it sounded so small.
The little girl yelled as loud as she could.
She tried to whistle from where she stood.
Piper’s hopes came true when she looked down the street.
There was her little girl. Oh how wonderful, how sweet!
She ran and ran til her legs could go no more.
She jumped into her arms and was done with her explore.
The best place to be is right at home.
Where it’s safe and warm and no need to roam.
THE END
Contest: What makes you smile 2 Sponsor Karen Jones Date 22/6/25
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When my day has been pretty tough,
And I have been dealing with lots of stuff,
I know I will be smiling upon my return.
I'll receive the best greeting anyone could earn.
His little whimper telling me he was all on his own.
I smile with gladness at the love I am shown.
Laden with heavy bags of shopping.
The one thing I have no hope of stopping,
His favorite toy, he happily brings to me.
Insisting I take it, as slobbery as it could be.
This simply always makes me smile.
Helping me bring the groceries in, takes a while.
When all 160 pound of him does decide,
The chair I am in is where he wishes to reside.
His weight on my lap tells me something is amiss.
I smile as he looks up and gives me a big kiss.
Just as I settle to relax, I smile hearing the clock chime.
He jumps up to get his harness, its walking time!
When I eat my dinner, he knows to keep his distance.
His constant surveillance shows definite persistence.
Looking at me as if he had never been fed.
I cant help but smile though it's a sight that I dread.
A wink of my eye and he is to me in a dash.
Gladly accepting all that I left and its gone in a flash.
Nothing compares with the love of a Bullmastiff friend.
He'll keep you smiling and be your protector til the end.
He can be soft and cuddly and is super, super strong.
His huge physique and cute black face, I smile all day long.
He takes a place in line with the grandkids to get a treat.
Keeps me smiling when he acts like a big kid, so sweet.
He pounds his great tail against the wall.
Breakfast time, I have to smile at his wake up call.
He follows me to the kitchen "now what will it be?"
There is some deboned chicken from last night's tea.
I am off to work, I see him droop like a sad sack.
I smile as I hug him and convince him I will be back.
I love a sunburnt Aussie bloke, with great big, muscled arms,
His rugged well-built shoulders, and face with all its charms.
I love his thongs and singlet too, and stubby shorts you see,
His beer gut proudly hanging out, he is the one for me,
I love his Aussie greeting way “‘G’day mate” when we meet
His laugh so loud, make no mistake, you’ll know him in the street.
I love the Aussie Sheila too, she’s really trim and taught.
Long legs, tight skirt, big bust, great smile, a real good-looking sort.
I love her when she’s on the beach, bikini clad real brown,
Or when she meets her friends for lunch, all dressed up for the town.
I love her friendly way she says “G’day mate” when we meet
Her laugh so loud, make now mistake you’ll know her in the street.
I love an Aussie BBQ, with lamb chops, snags, and steak
And ‘Big Red’ sauce, a loaf of bread, some salads we do make.
I love the Aussie breakfast time with Vegemite on toast
Or Sunday lunch no better that an Aussie dinkum roast.
I love our wine and spirits too, but best is Aussie beer
It’s Fosters, Gold or Tooheys Blue, you won’t find soft drink here.
I love our sport, we watch a lot, of course we are the best,
We’re always fair, we understand, just better than the rest.
I love the Aussie rules we play, that’s football, not ping pong
And how the crowds call out real loud if the umpie gets it wrong.
I love the summer tennis too; it’s watched by young and old
Or a cricket match the Aussie way, dressed in the green and gold.
I love our patriotic style, the anthem that is sung
‘Advance Australia Fair’ I think, don’t know the words just hum.
I love our multi-cultural race, from lands quite near and far,
As a nation proud we do stand because that is who we are.
I love the freedom that we have, our wide brown land to roam
This place we call Australia; this place we call our home.
i remember so well
The scrubbed farmhouse kitchen table
where all activities were held
From eating to colouring in,where jigsaw puzzles were made.
I remember the large open range fire
always burning, am sure it burned for 12 months of the year.
I can still smell the bacon, oh what a wonderful smell
as Mam cooked it on the big range cooker.
At exactly 9 am the farm workers would come in.
Breakfast time, they had been working a few hours already.
Can remember the piles of bacon, eggs and fried bread
Looked like enough to feed fifty not just the five,
the smell still lingers in my nostril
fried bacon, I salivate remembering it.
I laughed when I saw the doorstep chunks of bread
For mopping up young miss they would say to me.
Their plates would be so clean looked unused.
Blue sky, the bleating of the sheep,
Birds flying in formation,
Geese off to the lake for the day.
Only to return at night.
The smell of honeysuckle,
brings back the walks in the lanes
blackberrying in season, the pies and jams
*Mamgu used to make.
Conkers from the mighty tree in the middle of the field.
Mostly the clean smell of the country sticks in my mind
So much for a child to do in safety
You learn at an early age about staying back from machinery
Cos even the most experienced driver can overturn in a field.
Bedtime came and you were so tired you slept,
No tv’s in the bedroom you went to bed to sleep.
Maybe a line or two of a story, tiredness would take over.
Gentle zzzzzzzzs could be heard
As a child in the country it is a joyful time
Freedom, no traffic, healthy food,
Doing things together as a family should.
These idyllic time are firmly written
in indelible ink, in my mind.
* Mamgu - Grandmother
Penned 4 September 2015
A gentle cough, a quiet word, a morning breeze, a waking bird,
Into her box her letters fall, soft flip flop slippers down a hall,
A radio plays yesterdays, and on the wall a clock face says
That sometimes time talks much too loud, like ego’s clashing in a crowd,
Her percolator’s gurgling rhyme told her that it was breakfast time
So she sat in her window seat, and drank her coffee black and sweet
While musing on the day ahead, so much was still left to be said
Yet life sometimes has many lanes, and some are losses, some are gains.
She stepped outside and locked her door, then slowly walked down to the shore
Deciding that she’d start her day by wandering down Sabre bay,
Where sunlit sea touched glowing flame, and whispers never meant the same
As those that fluttered through the trees, for these were whispers of the seas
And as she walked she seemed to hear, from distant waves though crystal clear
Those messages from long ago, brought back upon the ocean’s flow
From somewhere that they both had been, a distant day, a distant scene
Where time and tide were much the same, a picture in a wooden frame.
And then she sensed them back again, two lovers in the teeming rain
Both shouting at the boiling sea, so footloose and so fancy free
Like gulls in winds they danced aloft, where even storms felt cushion soft
And from the cliffs they watched their day meander off down Sabre bay
Both clasped together with their dreams, at least that’s how the memory seems
Yet soon he had to go again, for some things she could not explain
So many suns, so many moons, so many tear filled afternoons
Despite the fact that she still Prays, her radio still plays yesterdays…
A gentle cough, a quiet word, a morning breeze, a waking bird,
Into her box her letters fall, soft flip flop slippers down a hall,
A radio plays yesterdays, and on the wall a clock face says
That sometimes time talks much too loud, like ego’s clashing in a crowd,
Her percolator’s gurgling rhyme told her that it was breakfast time
So she sat in her window seat, and drank her coffee black and sweet
While musing on the day ahead, so much was still left to be said
Yet life sometimes has many lanes, and some are losses, some are gains.
She stepped outside and locked her door, then slowly walked down to the shore
Deciding that she’d start her day by wandering down Sabre bay,
Where sunlit sea touched glowing flame, and whispers never meant the same
As those that fluttered through the trees, for these were whispers of the seas
And as she walked she seemed to hear, from distant waves though crystal clear
Those messages from long ago, brought back upon the ocean’s flow
From somewhere that they both had been, a distant day, a distant scene
Where time and tide were much the same, a picture in a wooden frame.
And then she sensed them back again, two lovers in the teeming rain
Both shouting at the boiling sea, so footloose and so fancy free
Like gulls in winds they danced aloft, where even storms felt cushion soft
And from the cliffs they watched their day meander off down Sabre bay
Both clasped together with their dreams, at least that’s how the memory seems
Yet soon he had to go again, for some things she could not explain
So many suns, so many moons, so many tear filled afternoons
Despite the fact that she still Prays, her radio still plays yesterdays…
God gave me a poem this morning.
Sleepily dozing words were forming,
A dreamscape composition
With imagery, rhyme and repetition
Penned on the half-asleep journal of my mind.
I like this idea I thought with delight.
God sent me this, and I feel it might
Make a fine poem, a worthy reflection
And in my inner conversation,
I told myself that it was sure
Set in my mind completely secure
I’d write it down, make it real.
Polish it for a finished shine and feel.
I told myself it would be readily available
When fully awake at breakfast table
But with coffee in one hand pen in the other,
Awakening reality started to smother
My inspiration, my bright light, my catchy new rhyme.
Oh, no! What to do? Would it return over time?
I should have known I could lose it
From my half-dreaming mind.
I remember a happy rhyme filled with delight.
Thanking God, I thought this just might
Make a fine poem or a least a line or two
I’d create the verse before the day was through,
But, alas, when I was ready, away it flew
My dreamscape thoughts and the subject, too.
I lost the poem today
So clear when half-awake I lay.
Now, I don’t know what I meant to say.
It’s not just foggy; it’s gone all the way.
God gave me a poem this morning,
A dreamscape composition
With imagery, rhyme, and repetition
Penned on the journal of my mind.
It saddens me to find
That it was gone by breakfast time.
My favorite day would be summertime,
wandering through our back yard
dressed in the finest lace
daddy’s princess smelling of freshly picked lavender
swaying with the trees, Sweet Caroline.
Morning brings with it the fragrant pine,
before the sun could lift me
I would think about the day’s events
packed to the rafter
an early walk would serve me, I smile.
I’d rise to sunshine,
peering through the corner of my curtains
fanning gently onto my face
the promise of a hot sultry day
to entertain, Daddy’s little Caroline.
The ladies gathered at breakfast time,
elegantly dressed they frame
cupcakes and finger tarts
on display while batting their colourful eyes
signalling the time at nine.
My face feels flushed,
looking across the hall way mirror
I notice a few errand strands
locking into my eyes,
I stand to smooth them and capture the roomy hush.
I regret not having the wine,
Every eye in the room
darts towards me as if called
to observe the hasty move,
the first signs of a crush, for sweet Caroline.
Handsome men stand aligned,
matches made and missed
they brood together
as much as I try to distance
they lean closer
smelling of soap and sandalwood, All in their prime.
The umbrella in my hand a shrine,
calling to every man in town
for proposal,
daddy’s invitations to wed
rocking sweet Caroline.