Ceramic crashes clash with the quiet night air.

A thunk and a thump—
cold doors opened,
then closed once more.

You could hear the frost his as it creeps along—
alone—
seeking another warm convert for its cool cult.

Spoons, forks, and knives tinkle:
creating stainless music that draws light form the darkest corners of the room.

Plastic wraps crinkle their already wrinkled faces
and cough up pairs of slices.

Bread offers itself demurely to layers of spreads
and dashes of sauces.

Breathing becomes a meditative mantra,
and before long once-idle fingers birth a sandwich.

Its crust is cut and contemplated with wistful whisper,
and then composted.

Some mouthfuls of pinot are decanted
poignantly
onto sculpted crystal castles whose rivers run red.

These artefacts of plate and goblet,
of cup and chalice,
and of hand and utensil are offered
to entropy in stories of sensation,
in texture,
and between feeling.
Stop
Sit
Rest
Share bread
Drink wine
Remember together
And celebrate -
Because - I'm - coming.
Sometimes you just need to stop and do something significant with friends.
b e mccomb Jan 12
give us this day our daily
emotional breakdown
and forgive us our
blackout binges
as we forgive those who
starve themselves for perfection

and lead us not into
inherited obesity
deliver us from
the mental ward

FOR THERE IS SO
MUCH FUCKIN
BREAD IN THIS
HOUSE I CAN'T
TAKE IT ANYMORE


on mlk day i shut my eyes
and see scenes of
squishy white rolls and
pats of margarine

bread
leaden
deadened
feeling in my stomach

i can't eat any
more bread


but here it is
in baskets and
coolers in
toasters and
cupboards

my daily bread
made to sustain me
but turned into
the enemy

deliver me
from risen
yeast in
third degrees

a flour coated
tyranny
mind control
through sesame

swallowing
emotions
down
down
down


quietly settles
until spring
somewhere between
my hope and skin

you can see me
smile and stand
straight and tall
but what you can't see
is this shouldn't be
my body at all

*give us this day
our daily bread
and give us the strength
to chew meat instead
copyright 1/11/18 b. e. mccomb
Bret Dec 2017
bakers dozens of country miles
couldn't keep the drug out.
vinyl records and chalkboard elephants
gone with the wind.
with the run of a hand.

we never let the bread rise.
always kneading away,
putting out fires before they start
and missing the drought
in front of you.

the wind rattles my straw house,
so i feed the Wolf
to get some quiet.
Merry Christmas here's a sad poem
ShowYouLove Nov 2017
Daily bread you keep us fed
Manna from on high greater than I
I will surely perish for the food I so cherish
Grain so small yet so full of potential
The body of Christ is most essential
He gives up himself both body and soul
He is the only one who fills my heart’s hole
We consume him to be consumed
In this life we are being groomed
To be with Him in love without end
To praise and live forever all the people said amen
You are the food for the nations
Your words formed all creations
Your word sustains us it’s all we need
Your truth is like water to seed
Your love lifts us up back on our feet
Your love fills us and makes us complete
Your mercy is such that it brings me to my knees
Your glory is higher than the mountains, deeper than the seas
Your Spirit is flowing pouring down like rain
Your blood Lord washes away my guilty stain
Your wisdom surpasses the greatest of men
You are, you were, you always have been
Your light touches all darkness is as day
You walked before us to show us the way
Your plans are perfect your ways are good
But we stray, turn away, don’t do as we should
Still you love us take us back into the fold
You seek us out and shelter us from the cold
How amazing God that through it all
You still welcome us to the great feast hall
Nylee Sep 2017
They are taking away my piece of cake
and don't even eat it
but for me it was my bread
my only need right now
but they got to grab it first
and they just threw it away
without a thought on
how many hungry could have had a bite.
If I don' live
What am I gonna die for?
Bread?
july 10, 2017
2:34 a.m.
Mihir Kulkarni May 2017
She doesn't think
I'm much of a guy...
I meant much of
An interesting guy.
I did say "interesting" before...
Didn't I?

Why?
Why does it matter?
Oh I love her I think...
We will go well together,
Like bread and jam
wait.. a better rhyme...
Like bread and "butter".

I must tell you...
The amount of efforts I make!
Even wrote her a poem to which
She said "For God's sake!
We are not in 19th century. Get new..."
It made me feel like leftover cake.

"Swag", she said
Something you lack Hun;
I opened net and googled it
After our short conversation.
The guys must do this and that
Looking at it I went into depression!
(Have you seen the latest trends?
I'm soooo far behind. oh good heaven!)

Back home I sunk in my sofa low
I was bloody exhausted,
Nothing I did pleased her
Didn't get her one bit excited;
She wanted someone bad and strong
And all she got was a guy retarded.

Why is it that...
Her crush drinks a bottle of whiskey down,
In one gulp and calls her cutie pie.
And I can't even pull off a leather jacket,
I'm just a fucking teetotaler orange juice guy.
In this world full of jibber-jabber,
I look at her as if She's my only high!

Okay!
So I'll love her silently and pray,
Like how Earth keeps Moon
Neither too close nor far away;
A miracle is all I hope for
(like the guy she loves shifting to Burma)
Then she'll have no other way!

I know...
I'm not a bad boy!
Why o God you've made me this nice?!
She loves to play with fire and you've
And you've...
Made my heart outta ice!
Sometimes you feel bad that you're a good guy.
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