Tulip or Turnip

 

Tulip or Turnip

A Poem by James Rodney Moorer

 

Making the breakfast I am asked,

Can we go somewhere fun?

Lately it has been like this for us,

Daddy Warbucks playing to a room full of orphaned Annies.

 

I flip the pancakes, cut the sausage into too big chunks, while trying to explain that life isn’t always about having fun, while the real truth lies in the opposite direction.

 

Somewhere between broke and philosophic, it is the good parent, bad parent drill, that and trying not to burn anything.

 

They retreat satisfied for the moment.

 

And I am left wondering how it came to this, that I am left holding the bag, while trying not to get burned by popping grease.

 

I find no comfort in my thoughts.

They are like the hot grease useful until used and as quickly discarded.

 

My mind turns back to breakfast and I turn the sausage.

We may not have a fun day, but we will eat.

 

Reviews

[Sean Allen]

Ah, the choices that must always be made.
But take a moment someday to, for example, get on a bus not even knowing where it is going. You can eat when you get there.

[Emily B]

yes, I recognize the thoughts here. It is a fine line to walk. Nowhere is it written that they must all be fun days. We have a responsibility to teach, to instruct, to lead. With imagination, we will eat with a full heart.

[R J Askew]

Like it another dish of realism. 'I find no comfort in my thoughts' I esp like as it displays a misanthropic bent I share, though in my case it wld be 'I find no comfort in others'. 'Somewhere between broke and philosophic' is also a great turn of phrase. I sense you are not one to be hoodwinked by life. The ambivalence of the title is in the same vein as the concrete poem in seeing both sides of this strange experience. Maybe life is a Tunip.

[Poeticpiers]

philosophy,homespun adn kitchen wise eat first you can't thonk on an empty stomach. You can find fun later