Breakfast in Amnesia
Breakfast seemed
Not quite a meal but more a waking dream
With bits of food that drifted through my teeth
Slowly passing
From plate to me
While my mind did so proceed
That all I thought
Was mere imaginings
My mind a fictive horse with wings
To ply the airy, surreal heights of what’s not yet
and what can’t be
In search of what amuses me
I often find myself thus lost
Before I find the muse accosting me
Sometimes with a wink
other times
With a playful pinch on the cheek
May 5th, 2009 at 6:16 pm
This is a very visually interesting piece, and it seems very different from your usual heavy-natured poems sir.
I really liked how you described your food slowly passing from your plate.
I don’t know how you feel about criticism, but if you don’t want to dig it, that’s fine.
While I’m a big fan of the classics, I think in this poem, your use of “the muse” is a little out of place, and it almost sounds cliche. While I understand that that is a pivotal part of your poem, I think that it takes an awkward turn when you use it.
Anyone else have any thoughts?
June 7th, 2009 at 6:47 pm
A great piece, easy to read, with wonderful flow! Although I see where Tree is coming from in regards to the use of “muse”. I am not sure I would consider it a cliche in this piece. The poem seems to be honouring the classics and the use of “muse” in order to help contribute to this is arguably using the word in a new way. Once again nice going!