Best Breakfast Poems

Breakfast of Good-bye


fine remnants softly linger
along the edges - reminiscence,
soft ruffling of a curtain
tickled by a warm summer breeze,
cold scent of passion’s pillow
pressed into the face of yesterday,
lost shoe recovered from act one
flamboyant curtain call,
damp towel draped across a chair
auburn strands entwined,
dripping heart shape
foggy shower...

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Poetry for breakfast 
Delivered with dollops of metaphors
Coated with delightful snippets of fun
Rolled in a skillet of imagery
My eyes dance with delight
As I read the words of my internet friends
Bringing poetry to life...

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breakfast with the mafia
an early burbs Thursday
we watch them through the window
trying to figure out what they're saying
 
eating their new york bagels
while they plan and plot
we are watching for drive bys
making sure we know when to drop
 
one looks like Jr Soprano
he gets out...

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Crunchy asteroids
Wet sand, cotton stones, masks, corn
Swimming in my bowl...

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In a little town
with a little street
and single traffic 
was a tiny diner
with just a few people
among them Robert
and his wife Francine
who for twenty years
order the same things,
pancakes with butter
for mister Robert
omelette with truffle
for Mrs Francine
the same time forever
the same routine
but one morning
oh what morning
Bob...

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Dr. Zhivago, 12 angry men  Valdez is coming Clear and Present danger Scent of a woman Armageddon Medicine Man

Top Gun the ninth gate Dangerous minds, Milk money wings of the dove
Cider house rules and shangi noon

The shadow  {knows} Bugsy the firm dangerous dogs...

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He hurled his plate of meat-free food;
The waitress thought him rather rude.

“Full English breakfast here all day
“Or vegetarian, you say.”
The zombie pointed to the sign
And shouted loudly, “I want mine.”

“So bring him here – no, bring me two.
“Oh, what the heck, I’ll start with you.”

“But,...

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The croissants of buttered hills
glisten in the searing marmalade
of August's arid oven.
September's cinnamon swirl
scorches muffin-colored homes,
the flames smothered
as October rains
send lives and mud
sliding into the ravines
like apple butter.
On Thanksgiving morning
survivors eat fall's charred breakfast,
then praise God in church.
In the milk of spring
they rebuild,
just like the...

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Of all the flamin’ rotten luck I said alighting from me van;
kicked the wheel holding the flat to upset our touring plan.
We’re miles away from anywhere as I rummage through our gear,   
for underneath our chock full load the spare is hidden here.

Then...

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Breakfast

I remain civil for that is the cloth from which I was sired and cut
Much regret is apparent and painful in your eyes but not for me to behold
They say that revenge is a dish that is best served cold, still I wouldn’t know
Just desserts...

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This is my story about Menudo, and not the boy band Menudo
Mexican Menudo soup, known as the breakfast of champions
It’s what borracho’s, and Ricky Martin and all el mundo saludo
Chili mix, cilantro and lemon or lime, oregano, served in ramekins
A hearty feel good spicy tripe...

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Toast and jam
Sausage, ham

Cap mushrooms
Red legumes

Tomatoes
Potatoes 

Eggs to try
Poach or fry

Breakfast tea
All for me

Tummy full
Last mouthful 

Happy tum
Yum, yum, yum!

Day dismal
Pink bismol...

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Old heads know more,
but can't explore anymore.
Justly, they exploit experience,
adroitly squishing creativity.
Too old to play,
with naivety....

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Written & Posted, 3rd January 2025
For the International Contest, CHOOSE A 2025 POSTED POEM
Sponsor, Brian Strand, Judged 4th January 2025 (Second Place)
Poem of the day - 5th January 2025




I checked my watch and checked my phone,
but everyone’s in a different zone, 
Eastern, Central, Mountain, Pacific,...

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Encamped in the local IHOP patio
Doing reconnaissance on the butter pecan syrup
I discern its malicious, aggressive intentions: 
To march defiantly down Mt. Stack
And wage a ruthless attack on
Defenseless over-easy eggs

Acting quickly, I wield my fork 
Digging trenches in my pancakes
I flank the enemy, staving off...

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