Breadcrumbs Poem by Rod M.Peters


Rating: 5.0

The madman that sits on my chair
Picks up the breadcrumbs
From the coffee table
But leaves one for the wandering little ant
Who crosses the big checkered desert
With unwavering resolve.
He also fancies himself a scout of sorts
Foraging for lost memories
In the vast frozen desert
Of his withering mind
And wonders if a heartless controller
Ensconced in an Olympian summit
Has wiped away the last little scrap
Of a once lovingly treasured remembrance
With his unforgiving hand.

Monday, June 5, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: memories
Bri Edwards 06 October 2017

I'll toss this into October's showcase. bri :)

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Rod Mendieta 08 October 2017

Thank you Bri, and it was quite a selection. Your own poem is a tenner. You should write serious stuff more often, though the humorous ones always tickle me a lot.

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Bri Edwards 06 October 2017

to October's showcase. bri ;)

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Kyvin Nash 30 August 2017

Wonderful writ Mr RM +10

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Kyvin Nash 11 September 2017

Thank you Sir, it means a lot...! ! !

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Rod Mendieta 31 August 2017

Thanks for dropping by, and to anyone visiting, I recommend Kyvin's poem 'Watchman, What Of The Night? '.

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Susan Williams 08 June 2017

Bread crumbs and ants and a checkered tablecloth have just been turned into extraordinary ingredients of this ingenious piece of writing. I have just put you on my list of poets to keep my eye on!

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Rod Mendieta 08 June 2017

Thank you Susan. I'm a sucker for little ants. When our cat's feeding bowl gets filled with ants I take it out to the garden and and knock them all out so that they land on the flower bed. My wife just flushes them!

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Rod M.Peters

Rod M.Peters

San José, Costa Rica
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