One last Poetry Breakfast entry. I wrote this about midway through the month of doing these, and knew then that I would save this for the final entry. I had great fun writing these. When I started out, I was able to keep a few days ahead of my publishing schedule. Alas, a combination of […]
The Poetry Breakfast is on hiatus until the end of the month. Combination of coming down with a cold and family needs mean I’m “breaking the chain”, if you follow Jerry Seinfeld. Normal butchery of literature will recommence at the start of October.
[Laid up with a cold at the moment, so forgive me for “phoning it in” a bit. Still, this one tickled me.] The Pig Roald Dahl doesn’t deserve this In England once there lived a big And wonderfully clever pig. So we ate it. The Pig Roald Dahl In England once there lived a big […]
The Soufflé (Never in his wildest horrors conceived of by Robert Louis Stevenson) How do you like to rise up, my soufflé , Up in the air so tall? Oh, I do think it the tastiest thing Can be done with an egg, y’all! Up in the air, rise along the side, Till the cap […]
Do Not Sit By My Plate And Weep (that was deep, Mary Elizabeth Fryer) Do not sit by my plate and weep I am not there. I do not eat. I am a thousand cows that moo. I am the candle’s glint on stew. I am the sunlight on ripened grain. I am the ripened […]