Written for:  The Twiglets #158 – “cornflakes”

When you stay at a hotel
you can always rely
on seeing those miniature
boxes of cornflakes
at the breakfast bar.

Wow, that guy is flaky!
Nah, he’s just corny.

field of golden corn
mother says to daughter
that’s where your breakfast begins

There once was a guy who loved cornflakes
He believed they cured each pain and ache
He woke with flu
Knew just what to do
Glued cornflakes to nose, breathed through hose, now eats hotcakes.


About purplepeninportland

I am a freelance poet, born and bred in Brooklyn, New York. I live with my husband, John, and two charming rescue dogs–Marion Miller and Murphy. We spent eight lovely years in Portland, OR, but are now back in New York. My goal is to create and share poetry with others who write, or simply enjoy reading poetry. I hope to touch a nerve in you, and feel your sparks as well.
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4 Responses to “cornflakes”

  1. Violet Lentz says:

    Quite the fun quartet!


  2. Jules says:

    🙂 Those falling cornflakes as another suggested should be frosted flakes!

    Some hotels have those plastic jars with turn a portions worth into your bowl.

    Wasn’t Mr. Kellogg who truly believed in the ‘corn flake’ – built quite an empire!


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