Short Wheaties Poems

Thomas Alva Edison
Drank milk instead of medicine.
He died of diabetes - 
Should have had his milk with Wheaties!...

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.

          ow'ch
      damn'it girl
         d'anng
          ouch

     okay woman
           less
       wheaties

    the corn rows
           arrr
        too tight...

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A lady named Jane was really well known
For her ability to mumble and loudly moan
While eating her Wheaties
With beans and wienies
A weird kinda lassie, very strange to the bone


© Jack Ellison 2015...

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  Wheaties in beer to start the day
    Off to work I stumble and sway

  Cocktail at noon to set the stage
    For the nap I need ‘due to age’  

  Double martini at 5:05
    Reflexes take a nosedive

  Night cap at 11:10 p.m.
    Wake up tomorrow
         ~ do it all over again

...

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Cheerios lacks sugar
Alphabet cereal needs marshmallows
A wise one invents Lucky Charms
I eat all the colorful marshmallows out of it too

Wheaties and Raisin Bran are awful.
Daddy eats them
I have no idea how
Is there a sugar swamp in the bottom of his bowl?

In the winter we have Cream of Wheat
Malt-o-Meal
Coco Puffs
Nothing is special about Special K...

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She’s a cereal killer
She chomps the Wheaties into bits
She’s a cereal killer
But please let’s not have any fits.

She masticates harder than most
She’s a killer of breads
Does serious damage to cinnamon toast
She’s the one of whom nightmares dread.

She’s a cereal killer
All the way up and down the kitchen
Now that you’ve been warned,
Please stop your annoying b…………………....

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Spotted deer with a bit of flash
We see him, his antlers all tall and brash.
I try to make an assumption, but do not want to be rash.
I have a feeling a rich relative has left him a bit of cash.
The spotted deer takes off with a flipped tail and dash.
I crunch up my Wheaties with a wicked spoon smash.
From the bonfire there is one last ash.
As soon as it is drowned, I take off with my cousin Nash....

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Mornings
My five-year-old son
Wheaties on his cheeks
Draws yellow flowers on my paycheck stubs.
When a grey cloud blocks the sun
He shakes his spoon at it, threatening extinction
And casts a fierce accusation my way.
Through holes of dreams
I maneuver escapes in the old Ford
Pick up hitchhikers who wear glasses.
Then summer takes a wet turn.
Dandelions, top-heavy, stagger
In the grass that needs cutting....

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