I had tried six impossible things;
six implausible things;
and, finally,
six impassable things.
All before breakfast.
Which, by the time I got to the breakfast table,
was either: cold, stale, inedible, or missing.
My plate was the picture of an artist –
probably an abstract one,
as it wasn’t recognisably
a breakfast that anyone would want to eat.
Consequently, I didn’t eat it.
Black coffee, lukewarm,
and the memory of a far off petit dejeuner,
would have to get me through to lunch.
Posted in Poetry
Tagged #Alice, #breakfast, #HitchHikersGuide, #PetitDejeuner, #poetry. #poem, #Things, prose, six
Six days a week;
sixty weeks,
and a bit,
a year
(except in leap years
when sixty one exact
would be the number)
and all we have to do
I’d decide which day of the week
we should remove.
Easy, isn’t it?
Until we look at removing a month.
Six ‘threes’ are eighteen
So, just seventeen to go –
Haiku lines, that is.
Six ‘sevens…’ that is…
A Douglas Adams’ number –
Answer to it all.
Six, six, six: the Beast!
Devil’s telephone number?
Or load of rubbish!
‘Six’ is, in fact, just
A ‘nine’ that is upside down;
But, you knew ’bout that.
‘Six’ is ‘five’ plus ‘one’
Or, it’s ‘seven’ minus one –
Or is it just ‘six!?’
However you look,
‘Six’ is really the bee’s knees;
Unless you like ‘eight!’
Posted in @infograe, @poemmegroup, Haiku, hangerfarmpoets, poem, Poetry
Graeme Sandford 