Morning Ritual

Thankfully, all mornings are not like this

Published on April 24, 2007 By Buddah Moskowitz In Poetry

things seem right
but unexpectedly
over a bowl of cereal
they twist

and voices raise
pulses pound
and words are
sprayed like so much
buckshot

I watch my wife
and daughter
in their standoff
of anger and accusation

she’s just being mean
she won’t listen

I don’t know
who’s saying what
anymore

as I try to find
my briefcase
and sneak off
to my job

so I can pay for
this fight to continue
another day

Buy my book before it goes out of print!!

Comments

Shovelheat

on Apr 24, 2007

so I can pay for
this fight to continue
another day

Tell me about it Buddah!

(another good one! You always seem to have your finger on the pulse of the everyman...)

Buddah Moskowitz

on Apr 25, 2007

My Man, Shovelheat

Thanks for the kind words.

If I cannot use my writing to connect with the everyman, then I fear I have written poetry, which, you know, I hate.
- thanks, Moskowitz

dynamaso

on Apr 25, 2007

your finger on the pulse of the everyman

Yes, you do. I won't ever have the joy or heartache of this situation, but thanks to you, can at least have some understanding of what it might be like.

Thank you.

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