a poem in my pocket

(recipe for disaster in quatrain verse)

Slow cook this hearty hot porridge,

stir in sweetest honey and cream;

if bears come to breakfast, oh horridge,

we shall hear dear Goldilocks scream.

blond trespasser flees cottage in rush–

Papa growls over cooled bowls of mush:

“On warm servings of girls and oatmeal put dibs,

they’re both full of fiber and will stick to your ribs!”

Just for fun response to

Tweetspeak poetry prompt

to write ode to a favorite cereal

(photo credit:  www.quakeroats.ca)