Morning comes on wings
Here's my early thing
Leisurely breathing
Landscape rolling
Tasks on teacup
Teaspoon ticks
Taxing tocks
Timid trips
Tireless
Tyrant
Soon
Hello
Bellows
Deed undone
Crushed cookies
On blueberry blues
Whole wheat waffles
Preet paradise ruined
Fork freaking out sliced
Tea is getting stone cold
Waffle wafting put on hold
Sharpshooter setup snagged
Rally's roast, relocate roost
Survival is venting your frustrations on something edible because you are able to masticate, swallow and it's good for you. You can detect the change of emotions in the shape of the poem - starting out as majestic and well formed, the poem peters out to slow dwindling quiet protest. Poeming is my therapy and my survival in the drudgery of work.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Such an inspiring write, Doris..10++++
It's a complaint but yes, inspiring. Thank you for your lofty thoughts, bro. Bernard.