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Poetrymann — Breakfast
Published: 2009-04-16 12:52:54 +0000 UTC; Views: 1351; Favourites: 65; Downloads: 7
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Description
Her mouth worked like parchmentover her toast
the dry rattle of bees
as slow morning redemption
curled out of her cup
in a hiss of white
and framed the thin face
that was just like her mothers.
Brittle bone kisses
and thoughts that left him empty
rattled the spoon in his bowl
and his fists
as his eyes scanned the obits
waiting for her breathing
to crush the ordinary of the room.
Suddenly her smile moved like a cat
crawling over the tablecloth
sending the dishes flying
and settling in the solemn
cracks and crannies of his heart
surprising the still ticking of the clock
and flick of his lips
breaking morning open.
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Comments: 53
Thanks so much! Yeah....the scene seems to happen far too often.
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wow. i sneak over often, just to read. great stuff here! a book, perhaps, any time soon?
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That is extremely nice of you to say...many thanks. Yeah, I play with the idea quite a bit...
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*Smiles* I thought that was the cocktail hour(s)...all those olives.
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Very interesting. I love the way you use words.
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*Smiles* I have been known to torture them... Thanks.
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Suddenly her smile moved like a cat
crawling over the tablecloth
sending the dishes flying
^
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I am really glad you like that line...
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Thanks very much, love!
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Once again this got me totally excited. Im usually not a huge fan of any sort of romantic poetry.
But this was just exciting and moving and freeing
Its also reminded me of the morning. How everything seems to be so slow and dull and unworthy and then a spark happens and things just spring to life and the whole day is set on fire. Especially when its from the heart
Just innocent and sweet. Great description - get the imagination working on overdrive.
Wow this poem has got me so excited hee hee. Just love it
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Thanks so much. This scenario can have many endings...I leave it to the reader to choose his (or hers!)
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I thought you said you were having writer's block?
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*Laughs* I wrote both awhile ago. The last line of Obsession just about did me in. I have a bear of a time ending my poems.
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I know what you mean. I just had to give you a little crap, though, for posting poems and then grumbling about having writer's block
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For some reason, this filled me with a pervading sense of sadness and futility. Oh, the piece is your usual brilliance, no doubt. Just the tone and mood was so bereft of hope, despite its relenting end. Perhaps I have just been too close to this scene myself. Very well done.
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I am an annoying optimist about love, so I am hoping against hope her smile is a spark that reunites and connects them again. But it can go either way...
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Funny thing about smiles though...they only last as long as the reasons that put them there.
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*Smiles* Subtext... So, where are those photos you promised? And damn, since you started that new job you have gone silent!
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Heh.. sorry.. I guess been a little more tired than I use to be. I guess the quick fly by days must tire me out 
I'm working on them right now
*Goes back to working on it*
One minute
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Thanks! it's a bit schizo, but just hit my mood.
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It was such a proper, solemn breakfast, too! No bothersome conversation or questions or comments (can you tell how I like my mornings?).
And then-- scandalous! Not a SMILE???
What will the neighbors think?
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*Grins* Life on Wisteria Lane?
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Excellent work my friend,it's sad to see the way some couples just lose that special contact,terrible to just listen the sound of dishes and the way a knife could cut the silence and space between them...for me,the moments at the table,have always been special,even if single,sharing the meals with your loved ones and having a nice conversation is what gives the most special memories.
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Yes, but sometimes there is a spark hidden that an impulsive move and smile can kindle...
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And it'd would be great to see what that hidden spark could do between two people who have lost the contact even if they are in front of each other,even better what that impulse move and smile could deliver when they break the silence...it would be like 'a lightning illuminating the darkest place on earth'...or that sunshine that filters softly among the clouds before a storm...
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I so wish I could write like you do .. you have such an amazing way with words.
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*Smiles* And I envy your way with digital art. Many thanks.
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I was visualizing a couple with a too long table between them sitting face to face in a dining hall and the sound of crunching dry toasts rebounds on the walls. This depicts distance, stiffness, disenchantment and is fragile like brittle bones and dried flowers. It makes you want to have breakfast in bed and entertain more juicy thoughts 
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Damn, woman! That was exactly what I saw as well!
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Morning is the purest time of day (for me).
You outline it well, with cleansing senses and familiar imagery.
Reminds me of eggs benedict 
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Thanks! Breakfast, and most meals definitely have a ritual about them.
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I was with you 'til you got here: 'crawling over the tablecloth' ... flinging dishes is great and a delightful surprise...but I'm not convinced it goes with 'crawling'.
Frankly, this is not unlike my mornings, until that first cuppa' coffee...
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I see your point, trust me. I was thinking of our cats who crawl across everything and knock things over...
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Thanks. I think it might be a bit split in voice, but I kind of like it.
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There is some interesting emotion here...
He barely tolerates her in the beginning:
Brittle bone kisses
and thoughts that left him empty...
I especially felt his dislike with
...as his eyes scanned the obits
waiting for her breathing
to crush the ordinary of the room.
But by the end a smile has him undone:
settling in the solemn
cracks and crannies of his heart
....Did I read it right?
That's how I read it, anyways. 
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Yeah..it pulls in two directions and i just let it rip. It was inspired by those couples you see out at dinner who never smile and barely speak. I wondered what would happen if one reached out to the other....
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Ah..! A people watcher. 
I would expect one of two scenarios...
He reaches for her hand and she either a) recoils or b) freezes
both in shock. Sad really... *sigh* For you know beneath the cool detached exterior is a passionate person, they're just not with the right partner.
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I love how the whole poem seems to cast off reality and just fly away at the end <3
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