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.

8 comments:

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!

Thanks!

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!!