Breakfast Blues

Nothing in the fridge
and nothing on the shelves
crumbs lie on the carpet
the mice just help themselves

but I’m not really hungry
and I don’t feel a thirst
got so much picnic in my head
that I fear it might well burst

outside the morning sunshine
should warm my thickened skin
yet over in the corner
are the shadows I’ve let in

run away and shelter
or chase them all away?
food for thought whets my appetite
on this glorious summer day..



Filed under Poetry

2 responses to “Breakfast Blues

  1. Forrester McLeod

    I love it!

    You are the only poet I’ve ever met who writes like I think. Seriously never had that experience before. It’s very personal and makes me on some odd level feel known, if that makes any sense. Kindred spirits and such. Hope you don’t mind that!

    Thanks for Your words….

  2. tigercity

    Don’t know what to say to that Forrester.. it’s lovely to be called a ‘poet’…it’s a real accolade.. many thanks.. to be perfectly honest I usually just belt it out in one fell swoop.. this one I wrote yesterday.. so it’s very new.. I don’t mind at all, in fact I’m delighted to read your thoughts (not intuitively of course!).. have a great week-end..

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