Counter Production

Egging on the opposition.

In the morn when I enter my billet
with a sand pebble still in my eye,
I go to my cast iron skillet
with a clang and a Peter Pan sigh.

(Eggshell potato peal,
proteins cross paths and congeal.)

Butter and jam decry it don‘t matter,
eggs crack wise as potatoes undress;
the oil of olive does splatter--
in the pop of an eye there's a mess.

(Eggshell potato skin,
brown paper bag barges in.)

The aroma of coffee comes calling
as Joe lovingly wafts with each pour;
but marriage to mess is appalling,
and there's grounds for divorce all the more.

(Eggshell espresso bound,
flotsam waves caffeine around.)

Dishes are scattered with fine pepper flecks
in the port where the canisters glean;
from a sinking ship, down below decks
comes a slayer who's ready to clean.

(Eggshell anarchy on,
Ajax detergent at dawn.)

Author's Note

Rhythm (10-9-9-9) (6-7)

Reviews

[JCharo]

Love the personification throughout and the consistant rhythm and rhyme scheme. Very good piece, entertaining, enlightening, and definitely opens minds like mine to other possiblities we can take with our work. Great creative stuff here.