Breakfasts were special.
Two plates.
Two eggs.
Together.
Cup and saucer.
Egg and spoon.
Salt and pepper.
Kind people ask.
I cannot tell.
There are no words.
At breakfast
One plate is lonely.
The egg is spoiled.
No pepper.
I never liked it.
Only the salt is set.
Only the sharp taste.
Martin Swords
April 2008
Its some times nice to have breakfast alone, vut not all the time. a nice poem
So sad, so lonely, so beautiful.........we are meant to live in pairs. alana
This is superb, Martin. There is so much pain lurking between the lines. I particularly like your last line. A fine example of 'less is more'. Love, Allie ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
Succinct and to the point. Descriptive beyond portrait. Adeline
I agree with Fay totally, all the way to... an unforgettabable read. Thank you for sharing :)
So simple, such paucity of word, and all carefully chosen for the effect wanted. A sad and lonely statement... an unforgettable read.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very powerful poem made even more so by its perfect compostion and almost painfully quiet understatement. Very moving and almost unbearable with the might of what isn't said...as with what is. Simple chilling imagery that delinetes the loneliness with painfully precise detail and the sharp tang of loss. Perfect poem. love Donall Donall