Martin Swords

Rookie (9th December Nineteen Fifty / Tiglin, Wicklow, Ireland)

Breakfast for One


Breakfasts were special.
Two plates.
Two eggs.
Together.

Cup and saucer.
Egg and spoon.
Salt and pepper.

Kind people ask.
I cannot tell.
There are no words.
At breakfast

One plate is lonely.
The egg is spoiled.

No pepper.
I never liked it.

Only the salt is set.
Only the sharp taste.





Martin Swords
April 2008

Submitted: Saturday, August 23, 2008

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  • Rookie Alison Cassidy (7/25/2009 3:35:00 AM)

    This is superb, Martin. There is so much pain lurking between the lines. I particularly like your last line. A fine example of 'less is more'. Love, Allie ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 222 Points Marie Shine (7/17/2009 1:47:00 PM)

    A very poignant and powerful poem Martin.
    Very well crafted and perfect in presentation to the reader.
    So much is said in so few words but being concise adds to the potency of the poem and the reader is drawn into the poem by the title and held there to the very last line.
    THANK YOU for sharing Martin. (Report) Reply

  • Rookie Duh Huh (6/6/2009 3:15:00 AM)

    I agree with Fay totally, all the way to... an unforgettabable read. Thank you for sharing :) (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 12 Points Fay Slimm (11/16/2008 12:56:00 PM)

    So simple, such paucity of word, and all carefully chosen for the effect wanted. A sad and lonely statement... an unforgettable read. (Report) Reply

  • Rookie annie okia (10/2/2008 10:46:00 AM)

    So sad, so lonely, so beautiful.........we are meant to live in pairs. alana (Report) Reply

  • Rookie Roy Storey (8/30/2008 1:59:00 PM)

    Its some times nice to have breakfast alone, vut not all the time. a nice poem (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 36 Points Donall Dempsey (8/30/2008 7:32:00 AM)

    Very powerful poem made even more so by its perfect compostion and almost painfully quiet understatement. Very moving and almost unbearable with the might of what isn't said...as with what is. Simple chilling imagery that delinetes the loneliness with painfully precise detail and the sharp tang of loss. Perfect poem.

    love Donall Donall (Report) Reply

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