Never Read Poetry Before Breakfast

Never read poetry before breakfast
The pre-caffinated brain has not erected its defenses
In its post-slumber lethargy it transforms
a poet's vision into a template for living

Never read poetry before breakfast
or on your morning commute you will suddenly notice
the butter-drenched glory of the morning sun
you may be distracted
by the hypnotic rhythm and cadence of language
as captured in your morning emails
The reheated familiarity of your leftovers
may explode like fireworks on your tongue

If you absolutely must read poetry
handle it with care.
T.S. Eliot should only be read on a lush green hillside
overlooking an idyllic flower-laden landscape
Only attempt Wilfred Owen whilst in the velvet embrace of the blackest thunder storm
And if you are an amateur literary enthusiast
Do not, I repeat do not tackle Mary Oliver's beautiful word chisels
Lest your palisades crumble
letting her red bird haunt your daily existence
And her imaginary deer roam through your afternoons.

Never, never read poetry before breakfast
It will ruin your whole day