The Most Important Meal Of The Day

This morning’s breakfast food is round
And white inside, while also browned
On each flat surface. One by one
Is how I eat them, though it’s fun
To stack them each atop the other
First, and then chow down. My mother
Might object. Why? I suppose
She likes Hydrox, not Oreos.

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Crunch Rhyme

I’m not going to work on this.
Don’t have the time.
There’s more on my schedule
Than crafting a rhyme
Or excreting in iambs
And stanzas all night.
What can I say?
I’ve just no time to write.

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If They Make Fun Of Your Enormous Feet

Write a poem.
That’ll show ’em!

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Waiting For The Turtles

I’m waiting for the turtles but they’re late
There must have been some traffic by the pond
I don’t know how much longer I can wait
I hope that when they’ve here’d I’ll not have gone’d
When turtles say they’re coming it’s a fact
As promise-keepers turtles are the tops
When turtles dump their docs they don’t redact
You have to wait, though, ’til the penny drops
Because a turtle has no sense of time
Perhaps it thinks life happens all at once?
Its conscientiousness may be sublime
But as for promptitude, it’s just a dunce
A turtle, though, won’t stiff you like a tortoise
Those guys would lose a race to rigor mortis

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The Dream Of Powered Flight

In seat 1B aboard this Frontier flight
Where every inch of legroom has a price
I read about the fabled Brothers Wright
Who blazed the trail I’m following tonight
And can’t but think their struggles toward the air,
Though mighty and essential, don’t compare
To those of one whose handheld e-device
Has boarded with a charge that won’t suffice
For finishing the book. Life isn’t fair.

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Ikeacide

Drowning furniture
In late spring Lake Michigan:
Off the bucket list

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That’s How You Know It’s Good

Private ambulance
Cruises by the custard shop
Idles at the curb

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