The poet’s breakfast

Something wrong with Twemlow’s cornflakes?
Is the milk not warm enough?
Would he like some buttered muffins
to beguile his morning oeuf?

Does he ever stop complaining,
that thankless little toad?
Give him bread and water,
then tell him ‘Hit the road’.

Ingratitude is hard to bear,
more so at breakfast time,
when all a humble poet seeks
is marmalade and rhyme.


 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s