Saturday, March 29, 2008

Overheard at breakfast

Said the egg to the spoon:
I’ll promise you the moon.

Even though I’ve been decapitated
I’m not entirely captivated –

I simply hate to confess
that my shell’s in a mess

while your condition is mint.
But I’ll drop you a hint:

Sugar would be very nice
instead of salt as a spice.

Taking me to a mouth
is the deed of a louth.

Our love could be torrid
if you weren’t so horrid.

– Leonard “Silly Mood” Blumfeld

Written because of the word 'torrid' at Writers Island.


keith hillman said...

I'll never again be able to eat an egg without thinking of your poem!

Linda Jacobs said...

What fun couplets! A cool take on this prompt!

gautami tripathy said...

I enjoyed this so much!


word by word

OneMoreBeliever said...

... reminds me of dr suess...

Constance said...

"Our love could be torrid
if you weren’t so horrid."
*g* Thanks for the wry note to end my day. That poem hit the spot. :)

Regina said...

Very nice1 I don't think I'll be seeing eggs the same anymore!

tumblewords said...

So clever! Neat!

Felicity said...

This was a creative and fun poem! i love your work!!