Sunday Diner
Sunday Diner
Somewhere, waffles beam
from a plate that gleams
white as the Milky Way.
A pat of butter sits fat
as the noonday sun.
A waitress says “Hon,”
as if it were
a benediction.
*************************************
Here’s a poem, 6 for six in April (ha!), for Kenia’s “Sunday” prompt on With Real Toads.
Real Toads is very thoughtfully providing daily nourishment for all those poets trying to celebrate National Poetry Month through self-flagellation. Check it out.
Once again, pic is not quite right, but I haven’t had time to do new ones this month, so in place of seated elephant, you’ll have to imagine waffle, waitress, butter, maybe sun.
Explore posts in the same categories: elephants, poetry, UncategorizedTags: April Poetry Month, manicddaily, Oh thank God for nice waitresses, Sunday Diner poem, where are my waffles!?
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April 6, 2014 at 4:46 pm
Love it…especially the ending…I so like waffle offerings on Sunday. 🙂
April 6, 2014 at 6:49 pm
What an adorable poem! And I love the image, I’m crazy about elephants! 🙂
Thanks for writing to my prompt.
Kiss. ❤
April 6, 2014 at 6:51 pm
mmm…sounds like a diner that i would not mind visiting…some of the coolest joints i have eaten in come with a Hon…
April 6, 2014 at 7:05 pm
A delight 🙂
April 6, 2014 at 7:34 pm
I love this! I would kill for a waffle.
April 6, 2014 at 9:47 pm
Yum! My mom collects elephants-this makes me smile~
April 6, 2014 at 10:15 pm
love the butter-sun…though in our place (india) we become butter..
when the sun smiles…
April 6, 2014 at 11:14 pm
This is a little gem! 🙂
April 6, 2014 at 11:44 pm
I’d love to be in that diner with that elephant – super poem and illustration – great fun k 🙂
April 7, 2014 at 5:25 am
Poem is charming. Elephant too … drinking coffee or hot chocolate. What a sweet dinner partner. Nice, k. 🙂
April 7, 2014 at 8:32 am
This is something so essentially American about this experience – not that we don’t have waffles etc, maybe just not the waitress with her “Hon”. I found this to be a very heart-warming depiction of Sunday morning.
April 7, 2014 at 12:05 pm
wonderfully vivid. every word necessary, this is a stout piece with a fat story. i love your work, karin.
April 7, 2014 at 12:12 pm
Thank you–I had many different endings–where it went on a bit longer and was probably a bit more dramatic–I should say, melodramatic, but I brought my husband, a purist, into the internal discussion, and he kept opting for this shorter version. Always an interesting debate–I think the longer versions may have been better liked as they were more “showy” but I am trying to avoid some of that. Your kind support is very much appreciated.
k.
April 7, 2014 at 1:29 pm
A very apt and fun piece of self-flagellation here. There are few things as enjoyable as a Sunday diner breakfast.
April 7, 2014 at 11:30 pm
“A pat of butter sits fat
as the noonday sun.”
We, on occasion, bribe out children to church on Sunday with the promise of brunch… (I didn’t’ just say that, did I?)
April 8, 2014 at 7:56 am
Ha!
April 8, 2014 at 12:53 pm
Gosh I am behind, k. So sorry. This is delightful, and has almost a fragrance of Sunday to it, it is so vivid. I love the beaming waffles and the fat butter, and I agree, hard as it is, sometimes one can say more by not extending past that moment of serendipity where the essence of the poem lies. This is a perfect length (though of course, not having seen your longer version, that may have been just as perfect, in a different way.)