Mayday Picnic

Mayday Picnic, my friend brought bread

The sun is out! I think the winter is dead!

We have grapes and mead and buns,

And loads of sunshine, tons and tons!

I think I burned my forehead again,

First burn of summer from my snoozing Zen!

Lying in the sun after over half a year,

Eating apples and carrots with beer.

Spread some olives and peppers of bell

On the rye bread and salivate like hell.

Somebody’s cold? Here, have a hug,

And this large-ish cocoa-mug.

That damn cloud brought the winter back,

May is the month of its “I’m back!” attack.

One day sun, next day sleet,

But now I’ll eat this chocolate treat.

There’s a small dog with a stick too big,

I can hear the birds as I take a swig.

Oh my, oh my, how I missed the sun,

And my friends, and the warmth they spun!


Bread waiting room

I built a waiting room for my bread

With the blueprints I made in my head.

It has tiny couches made for sitting,

A small TV and stuff to do knitting.

I made some magazines, with tiny print,

On what to wear, a fashion-themed hint.

Of course for breads it’s just not the same.

Wearing cheese and ham is their aim.

There’s also tips on how to taste better,

And a whole section for a bready love letter.

“Ah, my dearest, I long for your crumbs.

Seeing your crust makes my body numb.

When you wear Gouda or camembert with jam,

I can’t move, like covered with spam.”

These entertain them more than I expected,

I guess it makes them feel less disconnected.

Breads love romance, and I guess they must,

Their days are numbered when I smell their crust.

Enjoy the moment when you’re gonna be eaten,

The life philosophy of the ones who are wheaten.


Milk drips drips from my wet forehead,

As if I was a milk carton that bled.

Rye bread crumbs tackled my left eye,

I exhale curly pasta as I sigh.

A kernel falls out of my right-side nose,

Joins the other ones on my moistened clothes.

A salad chandelier on my rightern ear,

Glistens with a shiny caesar dressing tear.

My lids open slowly, heavy with bread,

Opposite me, a face of dread.

My friend in an after-sneeze shock,

Over his lunch, a frozen gawk.

“Could I maybe have a tissue please?

To wipe off this here, cheekiest cheese.”

Wipety wipe in total hush,

While my friend is lowering on his tush,

Waiting for what I will say or do,

Thinking in secret “I should’ve flew.”

I take a breath and inhale a pea,

Can’t help smiling, say with glee.

“I think you really should eat less meat,

Or cheese or milk, this tastes like feet!”

Homeless bread

My friend bought bread today, which led to this.


Put the bread in the bag well my dear,

You don’t want it to fall on the ground right here.

If you drop it and we leave it be,

It’ll be trouble for you and maybe me.

It wakes up when it hits the ground,

It doesn’t hurt or make a loud sound.

It has no home where it can go,

And it wants one so much, just you know.

Homeless bread are a plague on the streets.

Summertime come they walk their beats,

Attacking the people who pass by,

They don’t know what hit them and why.

The bread eat sunshine and people make shade,

Homeless and angry, off the path they strayed.

So don’t drop the bread my sweet little pup,

It might just come and beat you up.