The Bagel

I stopped to pick up the bagel
rolling away in the wind,
annoyed with myself
for having dropped it
as if it were a portent.
Faster and faster it rolled,
with me running after it
bent low, gritting my teeth,
and I found myself doubled over
and rolling down the street
head over heels, one complete somersault
after another like a bagel
and strangely happy with myself.

by David Ignatow

Other poems of IGNATOW (32)

Comments (6)

adorable... sometimes it's enough to keep it simple... this poem is memorable and amusing
I think Bob French got it right. I liked this poem also. Thanks for sharing.
Really like how simple this poem is. Reminds me that a friend of mine who teaches theology once compared the Trinity to a pretzel. I like to think of this bagel as eternity, representing how life keeps rolling on despite our little problems, which seem big in the perspective of the here and now.
You really should consider giving up on being a poet.
Are you drunk, Sir? Perhaps your brain is addled by drug abuse or the ravages of tertiary syphilis? You surely must be pissed, stoned, or diseased to scribble such dribble. Good day to you, Sir!
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