Making Breakfast - a study in consciousness
Breakfast. Slick operation. You could
make it in your sleep..
you’ve refined the quantities,
the cooking and the timing
like a pro..
and eating it – you’re even more
brilliant at that – you can
eat breakfast, read the paper,
listen to the radio or tv,
half listen to the wife and kids,
make and take those cellphone calls;
then bestow a salty bacon,
sweet marmaladey kiss on several lips
or cheeks – and off..
But today something gotten to you:
the sun is shining; all’s well with the world;
this isn’t Monday breakfast, this is
Saturday breakfast…
You find yourself making breakfast
as if you’d never made it in your life before;
you hear the cereal on its way
from the packet to the bowl;
smell the coffee before drinking it;
never has the toast been browner, crisper,
eggs more eggy, tomatoes so.. well, tomatoey;
sweet meeting salt in tasting mouth..
the world’s made new today; and
somehow, you feel as if
you know that much more about yourself;
some sure sense of direction
seems to fill your heart and mind;
you’re on good terms with
the Creation as of now.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
For The Happy Housemaid...
early morning
the housemaid turns on the radio
in full volume that the
neighbors know that
she is already awake
and cooking breakfast
the house smells fried
egg and bacon and
steamed rice
when i come out my room
she smiles and
turns off the radio and
says that breakfast is
ready
only to be told that
no one likes to eat breakfast
(unlike the two the housemaid
likes it much to eat all these matters
alone by herself,
she is attuned like a loud radio
early morning
and she does not mind what
the housemaids' neighbors say)
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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438
To Choose Between A
Hot Breakfast Ready On The Table
And Finishing Another Poem
I Choose The Breakfast
Together With My Wife
This Poem Can Be Suspended
In Time
And Become Another Unfinished
Act Of Creation
By A Man Wanting To Fill This
World With Poems
After A While
When I Have My Fill And When
I Make Some Nice Conversations With My Wife
And My Dog Beside The Table
Looking At Me
For A Piece Of Fried Pork
When The Sipping Of Coffee Is Over
When I Finally Wipe My
Chin With The Sky Blue Napkin
When I Consider
Eating As Finally Over
As Promised
I Will Come Back Again
And Finish This Poem
And There Is Something
Nice In This
Act Of Creation
You Feel It
It Is Warm Like The Hand Of
A Beautiful Woman
It Is As Hot As Ever
Like This Wanton Desire
Lovely,
As Lovely As You Love Each Letter
Of The Word
Of Your Poetry
I Am Feeling It In The Bone
Of My Soul
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Breakfast Is Ready
(7: 45 in the morning)
to choose between a
hot breakfast ready on the table
and finishing another poem
i choose the breakfast
together with my wife
this poem can be suspended
in time
and become another unfinished
act of creation
by a man wanting to fill this
world with poems
after a while
when i have my fill and when
i make some nice conversations with my wife
and my dog beside the table
looking at me
for a piece of fried pork
when the sipping of coffee is over
when i finally wipe my
chin with the sky blue napkin
when i consider
eating as finally over
as promised
i will come back again
and finish this poem
and there is something
nice in this
act of creation
you feel it
it is warm like the hand of
a beautiful woman
it is as hot as ever
like this wanton desire
lovely,
as lovely as you love each letter
of the word
of your poetry
i am feeling it in the bone
of my soul
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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ET Came To Breakfast (Fun Poem 10)
My breakfast was going snap, crackle and pop,
when suddenly in the chair opposite something went plop.
I looked across the table and was astonished to see,
a little green man looking at me.
I blinked a couple of times,
even pinched myself to make sure it was real.
He was, you can believe,
and my breakfast he was trying to steal.
We pulled at the bowl,
no one getting the upper hand,
and then he stuck his finger in the bowl,
and sucked out the blinking lot,
milk and my snap, crackle and pop.
The moral of this story.
If a little green man comes to breakfast,
Get an extra bowl.
28 April 2007
poem by David Harris
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Ballade Of The Breakfast Table
When the Festal Board, as the papers say,
Groans 'neath the weight of a lot to eat,
At breakfast, Fruhstuck or dejeuner,
(As a bard tri-lingual I'm rather neat)
At breakfast, then, if I may repeat,
This is what gets me into a huff,
This is a query I cannot beat:
Why don't they ever have spoons enough?
I've broken my fast with the grave and gay,
With hoi polloi and with the elite;
I've been all over the U. S. A.
From Dorchester Crossing to Kearney Street.
But aye when I sit in the morning seat
Comes to my notice the self-same bluff,
Plenty of food, but in this they cheat:
Why don't they ever have spoons enough?
Take it at breakfast, only to-day:
This was the layout, fresh and sweet:
Canteloupe, sweet as the new-mown hay; [Footnote: And about as edible.]
Cereal-one of the brands[Footnote: To advertisers: This space for sale.]
of wheat;
Soft-boiled eggs (we've cut out the meat) :
Coffee (a claro-manila-buff) :
Napery, china, and glasses complete-
Why don't they ever have spoons enough?
L'ENVOI
Autocratesses, forgive my heat,
But isn't it time to change that stuff?
Small is the benison I entreat-
Why don't they ever have spoons enough?
poem by Franklin P. Adams
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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
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You Can Have Him
[maizie:]
You can have him
I dont want him
Hes not worth fighting for
Besides theres plenty more where he came from
I dont want him
You can have him
Im giving him the sack
And he can go right back where he came from
I could never make him happy
Hed be better off with you
Im afraid I never loved him
All I ever wanted to do was
Run my fingers thru his curly locks
Mend his underwear and darn his socks
Fetch his slippers and remove his shoes
Wipe his glasses when he read the news
Rub his forehead with a gentle touch
Mornings after when hes had too much
Kiss him gently when he cuddled near
Give him babies one for evry year, so you see
I dont want him, you can have him
You can have him, I dont want him
For hes not the man for me
[monique:]
You can have him
I dont want him
Hes not worth fighting for
Besides theres plenty more where he came from
I dont want him
You can have him
He isnt my concern
And he can just return where he came from
I would look a trifle silly
Taking him away from you
That was never my intention
All I ever wanted to do was
Close the window while he soundly slept
Raid the icebox where the food is kept
Cook a breakfast that would please him most
Eggs and coffee and some buttered toast
Wake him gently with a breakfast tray
After breakfast clear the things away
Bring the papers and when theyve been read
Spend the balance of the day in bed, so you see
I dont want him, you can have him
You can have him, I dont want him
For hes not the man for me
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Can Have Him
[maizie:]
You can have him
I dont want him
Hes not worth fighting for
Besides theres plenty more where he came from
I dont want him
You can have him
Im giving him the sack
And he can go right back where he came from
I could never make him happy
Hed be better off with you
Im afraid I never loved him
All I ever wanted to do was
Run my fingers thru his curly locks
Mend his underwear and darn his socks
Fetch his slippers and remove his shoes
Wipe his glasses when he read the news
Rub his forehead with a gentle touch
Mornings after when hes had too much
Kiss him gently when he cuddled near
Give him babies one for evry year, so you see
I dont want him, you can have him
You can have him, I dont want him
For hes not the man for me
[monique:]
You can have him
I dont want him
Hes not worth fighting for
Besides theres plenty more where he came from
I dont want him
You can have him
He isnt my concern
And he can just return where he came from
I would look a trifle silly
Taking him away from you
That was never my intention
All I ever wanted to do was
Close the window while he soundly slept
Raid the icebox where the food is kept
Cook a breakfast that would please him most
Eggs and coffee and some buttered toast
Wake him gently with a breakfast tray
After breakfast clear the things away
Bring the papers and when theyve been read
Spend the balance of the day in bed, so you see
I dont want him, you can have him
You can have him, I dont want him
For hes not the man for me
song performed by by Irving Berlin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Finally
Finally daylight enters the room
Like a shy virgin
Undressing for the first time
And you are urged
To get out of bed
And begin the new day
But the bed is rather warm
And the outside air is cold
And so you lay awhile
And think of those cold mornings
You had to get from bed
And go get his breakfast
And get the kids up
And dressed
And breakfasted
And off to school
And still he’d lay there
Snoring and you bringing
His breakfast and saying
Here’s your breakfast
I’ll leave it on the side
And he’d turn over
And mumble sure ok
Now go leave me
In my quiet and peace
And keep those darn kids
From making so much noise
And off you’d go
Tip toeing from the room
And closing the door
With a nervous click
Not wanting to raise his anger
Or feel his fists
And hushing the kids
And making sure
They were ready for school
And trying not to think
On him lying there
As you began
The house chores
And now looking
At the window
Sensing the warmth
Of the bed
And the kids
Grown up and gone
And him rotting some place
Knifed by you
Some years back
Dead.
poem by Terry Collett
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The Old Woman and Today
She awoke early with a pep today
A glimmer in her eye and strong step today
She thought of a menu that would bring a smile today
as she thought of her husband so lovingly today
She cracked the eggs and placed them in the pan today
Se buttered his toast and peeled his fruit today
She poured his glass so full today
She placed the flowers n her favorite vase today
She slowly sat down at the table today
the realization hit her like a cement truck today
She lowered her eyes as she thought of the day
You see, the old man had long been dead by today
The disease of old persons made her forget today
Made her cook breakfast for three today
When I entered the room, I asked her sadly, 'What's wrong today? '
She said, 'I'll greive just the same as I did that day
because my soulmate just died again today.'
poem by Complicated Simply
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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
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Breakfast With Mark Strand
i had a chance to have a breakfast
with mark strand
a sacrifice on his part since he does not know me
i am a nobody you must know
back to mark, i guess he feels like a boat stranded
on an island with no known name as me
we were eating poetry
voraciously and ink stained my lips
ink dropping from my beard
spreading in my white polo shirt
i like this adventure having breakfast with mark strand
and i look at him closely like i have a magnifying lens in my hand
there are blackheads on his cheeks
white hairs on his eyelids
cracks on his lips
he smiles a little out of courtesy and i see
tooth decay
we finished eating poetry
i set him free
i know that two hours with me can be a century of agony
because i am a nobody and because at the end
i had eaten so much poetry and excuse me...i may vomit poetry.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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For the Love of Swine
Breakfast without bacon,
Seems like no breakfast at all.
Without Italian sausage roasted or baked...
In spaghetti.
It would be like having a milkshake,
Without milk.
Or Easter without ham.
With leftover sandwiches to make.
And those porkchops are delicious.
Especially fried.
And if they are seasoned just right to eat...
Some can be cooked to bring tears to eyes.
Smoked shoulder, and pickled pigfeet.
Neckbones and hamhocks.
With hotsauce on pork rinds.
A meal with neither of these,
On many Southern tables...
Is worse than committing the most horrendous crime.
For the love of swine,
People the world over can not resist.
Some relationships have ended...
Over spareribs and chitterlings,
If they were not properly fixed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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When I was little, I wasn't allowed to put sugar on my breakfast cereal because it made me so hyper.
quote by Dan O'Brien
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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But, on another level it's really sort of this really cool coming of age story, it reminds me of like The Breakfast Club or something like that, if I can be so bold to associate with The Breakfast Club.
quote by Will Estes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Good Morning
Good morning.
I bet you thought you'd catch me snoring?
I had to get up early with the sunrise today.
To show another side of me...
You had not seen me display my way!
Good morning.
I wont hear you say today I'm boring.
I wanted to see a surprise look in your eyes.
But you're giving me shock...
As if I am in some kind of disguise!
It's me!
No need to look for an exit to flee!
And I've prepare for you breakfast, toast...
With your choice of coffee or tea!
Scrambled eggs just the way you like them too.
But baby don't look at me...
As if I'm trying to poison you!
Good morning!
I am glad to show an appreciation,
For you that's finally dawning!
Good morning!
Baby, I'm okay!
Sweetheart get off your knees like that...
There's no reason for you to take this time to pray!
Unless you're feeling blessed,
In the same way I discovered myself today?
Good morning!
And I'm going to do...
All those things I promised I would for you!
Good morning.
Yes, it is me!
The 'me' you thought I forgot you knew!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Bench By The River
It’s six thirty on Sunday morning
and I’ve been here since three.
I don’t sleep much now-a-days,
but that don’t bother me.
The flies are here as usual
taking salt from my skin
whilst I’m having breakfast
of blood red wine and gin.
I remember when I was married
I had food three times a day.
Now, I eat when I’m hungry,
but not much comes my way.
I live in a one room bed sit,
which is big enough for me.
I don’t give parties anymore,
besides I’ve got no settee.
Two chairs, and one’s my table,
a sleeping bag on the floor.
A cup, a glass and a tooth brush,
don’t need anything more.
Another bottle is approaching
along with friends of mine.
We’ll continue having breakfast,
at least until lunch time.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Ode to breakfast
Breakfast is special to me
It’s a meal supremely suited to my solitary reflection
that has a more special, culinary cachet
Than are given more familial repasts
partaken throughout the day
A certain translucency of one’s self
That only transpires in early morning time
Requiring only the key of good strong coffee
To chase off sleep and unlock the keep… of sunshine
It’s a time when one’s mind
Has the real world forsaken
In lieu of a slew of great food
Like soft eggs, warm toast…and bacon
The newly risen sun
A new day born again
A time when inspiration… unannounced,
Drops in, now and then
Just an old man… in old shabby jammies
Feelin’ the warmth of the sun, so sublime
Sittin’ out on the porch steps, sippin’ morning coffee
Hummin’ tuneless songs..to the birds… in the sunshine
poem by David Whalen
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Bed & Breakfast Man
Well theres a man I know
At least I used to years ago
I didnt really mind
He used to come round all the time
Of course he had to be fed
I had to give him a bed
He used to kip on my sofa
They used to call him a loafer
Ive heard hes changed
A lot since then
But some of his ways
He just cant mend
Told the other day
That hed offered to pay
He didnt like his dad
He earned all he ever had
He didnt have no shame
He was a master at his game
He never showed his hand
He was the bed and breakfast man
He was, he was the bed and breakfast man...
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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