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Hope is a good breakfast, but it is a bad supper.
quote by Francis Bacon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hope is a good breakfast, but it is a bad supper.
quote by Francis Bacon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Honor buys no meat in the market. Hope is a good breakfast but a bad supper.
Breakfast
A dinner party, coffee, tea,
Sandwich, or supper, all may be
In their way pleasant. But to me
Not one of these deserves the praise
That welcomer of new-born days,
A breakfast, merits; ever giving
Cheerful notice we are living
Another day refreshed by sleep,
When its festival we keep.
Now although I would not slight
Those kindly words we use, 'Good night,'
Yet parting words are words of sorrow,
And may not vie with sweet 'Good morrow,'
With which again our friends we greet,
When in the breakfast-room we meet,
At the social table round,
Listening to the lively sound
Of those notes which never tire,
Of urn, or kettle on the fire.
Sleepy Robert never hears
Or urn or kettle; he appears
When all have finished, one by one
Dropping off, and breakfast done.
Yet has he too his own pleasure,
His breakfast hour's his hour of leisure;
And, left alone, he reads or muses,
Or else in idle mood he uses
To sit and watch the venturous fly,
Where the sugar's pilëd high,
Clambering o'er the lumps so white,
Rocky cliffs of sweet delight.
poem by Charles Lamb
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lunch and Dinner
I have breakfast and lunch and dinner,
Munching away forever and ever;
The religion of some is furious and solid,
Yesterday it was bigger than today
But my day is always happy with fury,
Its speed is falling everywhere,
Velocity is the vector of your liking
For you know the directions
We possess.
Our breakfast is taken in fullness,
My lunch is ever so strange
And supper chanced itself.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If you eat it up at supper, you cannot have it for breakfast.
Laugh before breakfast, you'll cry before supper.
To sing before breakfast is to weep before supper.
The Poor
God is with the poor
But do the poor know God is with them?
As they look out from the crowd
Lost in their 'man made prison'
God is with the poor
But do the poor know God is with them?
As they look up to the proud
Who looks back with derision
And who can tell the poor that God is with them?
He who paints angel wings on ragged backs?
Makes hungry mouths sing for their supper
He who nothing lacks?
Who poorer still can say God is with us?
When homeless turn away from too much fuss
But God is with them
Is he with us?
And poorer still in having more
But never having too much
Who can say then God is with us?
yvette smith
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Church Bell Rings Too Early
the church bell rings too early
the town's electrician
bald and ugly
poor and lonely
he was looking for his wife
who left with another man
taking with her
his only son
he could not eat breakfast
skipped his supper
and would not care for any lunch
and then the church bell tolled
for him
though not as early as he once did it
we shall always remember
grief, lament, the sound of the bell
too sonorous
to remember
lost affections, betrayal, death
and lack of
prayer.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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March of the Wheelchairs
In Dakota land lunch is dinner
and dinner supper while lunch is lunch,
as traditions from farmlands go.
Now breakfast is at 6, lunch at 9
dinner at noon, lunch at 3
supper at 7, everything timed.
Day in and day out, better not be late.
Weather fickle, eating ain’t!
Farm traditions, genetics ‘grained.
No surprise, nursing meals,
wheelchairs marching, internal time,
largo moves, staccato fades.
Day in, day out…they’re not late
Wheelchairs marching, marching in
farm traditions, genetics ‘grained.
Weather fickle….eating ain’t!
Hope God keeps the schedule,
or has… a special dining hall.
As these Wheelchairs… arrive
Suppertime
Supper time
I should set the table
cause its supper time
Somehow Im not able
cause that man omine
Aint comin home no more
Supper time
Kids will soon be yellin
For their supper time
Howll I keep from tellin
Them that man omine
Aint comin home no more?
Howll I keep explainin when they ask me where hes gone?
Howll I keep from cryin when I bring their supper on?
How can I remind them to pray at their humble board?
How can I be thankful when they start to thank the lord
Lord!
Supper time
I should set the table
cause its supper time
Somehow Im not able
cause that man omine
Aint comin home no more
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Suppertime
Supper time
I should set the table
cause its supper time
Somehow Im not able
cause that man omine
Aint comin home no more
Supper time
Kids will soon be yellin
For their supper time
Howll I keep from tellin
Them that man omine
Aint comin home no more?
Howll I keep explainin when they ask me where hes gone?
Howll I keep from cryin when I bring their supper on?
How can I remind them to pray at their humble board?
How can I be thankful when they start to thank the lord
Lord!
Supper time
I should set the table
cause its supper time
Somehow Im not able
cause that man omine
Aint comin home no more
song performed by by Irving Berlin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Purple Chequered
Do you remember this blanket? Soft, purple,
chequered was, wiped in the corner.
At the picnic mosquitoes cut and not
helped moves with hand to drive them away
You have always had fairly good
ways.Under the blanket,
covered entirely, only
underit, we started breakfast.
Our stifled giggles heightened a sound
of insects. And with evening, in the circle
of smoke candles lighted, the supper
on a purple, smelt of the night.
poem by Maria Barbara Korynt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Austerity
My mobile phone rings twice!
I took and it's a familiar voice.
'Hey! I am close to your heart
And see I am behind you.'
I looked around but nobody's seen.
'May I know your good name please? '
'It's me your breath Catherine
And you're my poor Peter the Great.
I can see you wear a Red T shirt my poor Socialist
And a blue denim patches here & there my Capitalist Rasputin.
Not only that my Sweetheart
We missed our scanty breakfast
I can see you are without the underpant
And I saw it's on the washing basin
Darling we're poor lovers with borrowed smiles.'
I heard she laughed and she's kidding me
My beloved!
A humble dedication to the poetess Fay slimm in gratitude!
* 'True affluence is not needing anything.' -Gary Snyder
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Breakfast In Bed
(eddie hinton / donnie fritts)
Youve been cryin
Your face is a mess
Come in baby
You can dry the tears on my dress
Shes hurt you again
I can tell
Oh, I know that look so well
Dont be shy
Youve been here before
Pull your shoes off, lie down
And I will lock the door
And no-one has to know
Youve come here again
Darling it will be
Like its always been before
Come on over here
Breakfast in bed
And a kiss or three
You dont have to say you love me
Breakfast in bed
Nothing need be said
Aint no need
Whats your hurry?
Please dont eat and run
You can let her wait, my darling
Its been so long
Since Ive had you here
You will come again
Darling it will be
Like its always been before
Hey child
Breakfast in bed
And a kiss or three
You dont have to say you love me
Breakfast in bed
Nothing need be said
Breakfast in bed
And a kiss or three
You dont have to say you love me
Breakfast in bed
Nothing need be said, yeah
You dont have to
song performed by by Dusty Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Love My Man
Billie holiday
I love my man
On my life i say i don't
I love my man
On my life i say i don't
But i'll quit my man
On my life i say i won't
I've been your slave baby
Ever since i've been your way
I've been your slave
Ever since i've been your faith
But before i be your dog
I'll see you in your grave
My man wouldn't give me no breakfast
Wouldn't give me no dinner
Squacked about my supper
Then he put me outdoors
Heaven erred to late
A matchbox on my clothes
I didn't have so many
But i had a long long ways to go
I ain't good looking
And my hair ain't curls
I ain't good looking
And my hair ain't curls
But my mother she give me something
It's going to carry me through this world
Some man like me 'cuz i'm happy
Some 'cuz i'm snappy
Some call me honey
Others think i've got money
Some say billie
Baby you're built for speed
Now if you put that altogether
Makes me everything a good man needs
song performed by by Billie Holiday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poverty
I saw an old cottage of clay,
And only of mud was the floor;
It was all falling into decay,
And the snow drifted in at the door.
Yet there a poor family dwelt,
In a hovel so dismal and rude;
And though gnawing hunger they felt,
They had not a morsel of food.
The children were crying for bread,
And to their poor mother they’d run;
‘Oh, give us some breakfast,’ they said,
Alas! their poor mother had none.
She viewed them with looks of despair,
She said (and I’m sure it was true),
‘’Tis not for myself that I care,
But, my poor little children, for you.’
O then, let the wealthy and gay
But see such a hovel as this,
That in a poor cottage of clay
They may know what true misery is.
And what I may have to bestow
I never will squander away,
While many poor people I know
Around me are wretched as they.
poem by Jane Taylor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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