Breakfast of Heroes

I awakened as the muscle-bound hero,
having ravaged the gate and infiltrated the city.
Still carrying the darkness of night
under my heavy cloak of responsibility
I stumbled down the hall into the kitchen, my bristling weapons
knocking over knick knacks in my wake.
My swollen pecs and biceps made it awkward
to butter my toast and fill the reservoir on the coffee machine.
And I barely fit through the bathroom door
when I went to brush my teeth.
Shaking my great, shaggy head in front of the mirror
I peeled off my armour as I bent forward
To inspect a spot on my forehead
No contusion, this - merely a new liver spot
I sighed with relief, as my proportions deflated
in the triple glare of the vanity lights
and I finally washed away the dream with soapy water,
smiling as my Herculean task swirled down the drain.
My belly and receding hairline suddenly didn’t seem so bad –
my wrinkles and imperfections being infinitely better
than bloody bandages and slings, scars and mended bones.
And as I dressed, I hummed an old song
And revelled in the freedom to be me.

BTW the illustration above is by the amazing Jeffrey Catherine Jones.

Get the scoop on my new novel, The Human Template at


  1. This is a profoundly beautiful poem, asserting the joy of being a simple man. Well done.

  2. I really like this poem - it says a lot about life, dreams, reality and more in a very short space.


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