For this week’s prompt, write a dessert poem. The poem can be titled as a dessert. The main characters could be eating or waiting for dessert. Or dessert could just be hinted at in the poem. Of course, I’m expecting a variety of desserts to be mentioned. Happy poeming!
Here’s my attempt at a dessert poem:
“Strawberry Cheesecake”
Most pictures don’t do the real thing justice,
but there you are–in your airbrushed glory–
smiling straight into the camera (some
lucky photographer who got to say,
“smile,” in person) with your hair suspended
around your face like fire ready to burn
a house down (or something) and my hunger
couldn’t be any more piqued than right now.
*****
Follow me on Twitter @robertleebrewer
*****
Make Your Romance Novel Hot Enough for an Agent!
Romance novels are probably the most consistently high-selling genre of fiction writing ever. Literary agent Sara Megibow presents all the essentials writers need to get their romance novels represented by agents, accepted by publishers, and devoured by readers in her OnDemand webinar: How to Make Your Romance Hot Enough for an Agent. In the webinar, Megibow shares what agents and publishers are looking for in romances, how to hook them with your submissions, and more.
Find an agent for your romance novel today!
Ode To Blue Bunny
by Juanita Lewison-Snyder
Calling all Bunnies
Calling all Bunnies
Blackberry and Vanilla
Toffee and Cherry
everything Nutty
and Chocolatey goo,
gather round this Splenda heaven
while I go fetch me a spoon!
© 2012 by Juanita Lewison-Snyder
Robert, your example for us is unexpected and wicked good!!
Goodness. It’s almost time for a new prompt, and I’m just now getting over here to collect THIS one. And no time to read/write at this point, so here’s an old one. This, in fact, is the first poem I wrote that Walt praised. I’ll never forget it … made my poetic year!
KEY LIME PIE
Today I baked
A gorgeous pie.
Very proud of it,
Am I.
My crust is fluted,
Tender, flaked.
And might I say,
Perfectly baked.
Meringue turned out
Exactly right;
A mountaintop
Of fluffy white.
It smells like heaven,
Looks divine.
I proudly boast
That it is mine.
My company
Heaps praise on me.
I soak it in
Immodestly.
I cut each perfect,
Lovely piece,
Displaying
Flair and expertise.
I watch as guests
Take their first bite.
My pride quite quickly
Turns to fright.
As lips now purse,
And eyes now tear.
I know what I forgot.
Oh dear.
Farmers Market
First day a long dry winter without
A cold delight, lemon sorbet with spiced Jamaican
Rum. I revel in the abundance of fresh herbs.
Mint, basil, lemon verbena all now planted and the first
Evening on the patio with wine and the smell of roses and lavender.
Rays of the sun sink into the brick and grass as I savor the first tang of lemon. Hmm
So..
Mmmh next week I will dip into double Belgian chocolate with Kahlua.
And each week of the season will bring the sorbet or ice cream with
Really fresh berries and
Maybe Kettle corn.
Each week I will
Touch the stars with bursting tastes.
I adopted two soldiers deployed in Afghanistan about a month ago. I’ve been emailing one almost daily for about two weeks now, since that’s how he prefers to communicate. I have not yet heard back from the other one, but he may be ground-pounding out in the boonies.
Adopt-A-Platoon said it could take up to 3-6 weeks for them to get their mail, and even longer to respond. I’ve been thinking about our servicemen & women a lot more lately.
This poem is for them…contact me if you want more information about supporting the troops. I need to post a link on my blog.
Peace
Mousse
You’re rich,
like chocolate mousse.
Just a taste should be enough,
but I gorge myself.
Return to thoughts of you –
again and again.
And I lick
my lips
in anticipation
of you doing the same.
I touch
the skin
behind my ear
where your breath
caused me
to shudder in pleasure.
And my skin prickles
in remembrance.
I look at the photo
you left with me,
to tide me over
until your return.
I touch
the glass
covering your face
as I last
caressed your skin,
the night before
your deployment.
The night before
the best part of me
left with you.
Herewith follows a little blue-grassy thing I call…
SWEET POTATO PIE
———————————————————-
Everybody needs a little sweet potato pie,
Sweet potato pie, my o, my…
Everybody needs a little sweet potato pie,
From their lil’ Sweet Potato…
After a hard day out in the field
Head to the house for a home cooked meal;
Meat ‘n’ three, ‘n’ cold iced tea, followed by
Sweet potato pie…
Because…
Everybody needs a little sweet potato pie,
Sweet potato pie, my o, my…
Everybody needs a little sweet potato pie,
From their lil’ Sweet Potato…
Once we’ve clean up we break out the strings,
Find some songs that everybody sings;
Daddy’s down low, Mamma’s up high…
Then we all have another slice of sweet potato pie…
Yeah…
Everybody needs a little sweet potato pie,
Sweet potato pie, my o, my…
Everybody needs a little sweet potato pie,
From their lil’ Sweet Potato…
Half-past midnight and everyone’s asleep,
I get out of bed and to the kitchen I creep;
Open the ice-box and what do I spy???
One last piece of sweet potato pie.
Everybody needs a little sweet potato pie,
Sweet potato pie, my o, my…
Everybody needs a little sweet potato pie,
From their lil’ Sweet Potato…
Sweet Nothings
Babycakes,
Studmuffin,
Cookie,
Gumdrop,
Punkin,
Lambchop,
Peachy pie,
Honeybunch,
Buttercup,
Peanut,
Candy girl,
Sugar lips,
Puddin’,
Apple of my eye…
Is any wonder love often devours us?
“Just Deserts”
It was funny — really! He’d probably laugh about it
later… tomorrow… maybe later, just… not right now.
But, he wasn’t about to cry over spilt milk either.
She always claimed he wouldn’t cry
if his life depended on it. Who knows?
Maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he couldn’t.
But, he always knew she wouldn’t stay. He blew
hot and cold, she said, and his grammar sucked
(the worst sin to her English major mind).
But hell, she couldn’t spell worth a damn
and he’d never held it against her,
until now.…
Dry, gritty eyes, sandpaper throat; still,
he wasn’t shedding any tears over her desertion.
(Almost) laughed at her scribbled promise — ‘just deserts’.
Really like this one…from one who can’t spell worth a dam either.
Ahhh, thanks, AC!
Drafted, redrafted, explored and found my way at last to this poem on a take-out bag with a tangential reference to a little custard dim sum…
ack. still not so good at HTML tags
Waiting
It makes me grind
My hungry teeth
When the dish
that takes the longest
To be served
Is someone’s
Just desserts.
Mint Chocolate Chip Ice Cream
I seldom leave room for dessert
except for the time when
I tried a new plate
from an unfamiliar menu
and was disappointed
to the point of thinking,
with each of the few
regrettable bites,
that we’d stop for dessert
on the way home.
And we did.
Dessert was ice cream –
mint chocolate chip.
I savored the cool, crispness
and let the chocolate pieces
melt on my tongue.
Hoooo, I’ll take some now
Banana Split
Sophomore year in college,
Never having had breakfast -
We would go to Brazier burger
On Jackson Street for lunch:
Through the aluminum radio-like speakers.
We would order a banana split
(Sometimes with just chocolate)
But usually, my childhood friend:
KayKay, would say No! And,
Since I had been in school
With her since first grade,
And we were dance friends,
I would have to “get it natural” -
With the pineapple, strawberries
And chocolate.
Then we would share and
Think about the marshmallow
cream we forgot to order.
But we could get that for dinner,
After classes, – at Burkee’s Drive In
In a vanilla coke.
Sublime twinkies
Full of twinkies,
I am sated,
my middle consumed by sweet cream perfection.
My toasted shell is dense to the touch
as anxious fingers pluck me from the box.
from the book: When Listening to Diamonds.
A Child’s Dilemma
Save room for dessert
Says my mama
But then tells me
To clean my plate
I want to be a good girl
To make mama happy
But I want a piece of cake
And a scoop of ice cream
And I’m afraid if I eat all this
That I won’t have room for dessert
The all you can eat bakery bar
( some lines loosely taken from a poem “Sweet Dreams”)
Resides in dreams, in cookbooks and menus
In do-it-yourself to plan and prepare
For a feast of goodies you are willing to share
With friends and relations on special occasions
Low-fat? Low calories? Never a care
Three layer cakes, banana cream pies
Apple crisps, jelly rolls, breads of pumpkin and apple
Await the slice of a knife and whipped crème and maple
Flavored syrup on angel food cake
Fritters of fruits to fry or to bake-
Over all a supply of cookies rains down
Some with chips of chocolate brown
Others with icing, choose your own tint
Fudge of vanilla, chocolate or mint.
The best thing of all, (at least it’s for me)
This heavenly feast is calorie free!
Just Desserts
He had a Napoleon complex
but she was no cream puff.
When she found out that he was
running around with some tart
who saw him as her sugar daddy -
well, she was no one to trifle with.
She’d studied tort law, but never practiced.
They say the proof is in the pudding,
so she decided to file for divorce,
and the icing on the cake
was when she drew up the papers herself.
He was in a real jam, so he had to settle
for a smaller piece of the pie.
“Like candy from a baby,” she smiled.
“Aw fudge,” he grumbled.
That’s the way the cookie crumbles.
Incredibly clever, Bruce. I love it.
Really loved this one, perfect ending !
This is AWESOME
LOL Well done, Bruce! :- ))
Chocolate Truffles
You came to stay a while,
Checking to see my status.
With you came an idea,
A gift for memory making.
With bags and bottles,
You toiled in the kitchen.
With love you fashioned
A treat for my pleasure.
With laughter you presented
Into memory a dream, fingers
Still chocolate covered,
Placing a delicate morsel
On my waiting tongue.
Framing my thoughts so
Bliss could come with sweetness
Rapidly melting essence of truffle,
Ever hinting at forbidden places,
Always expecting with inhalation
Thoughts of further actions,
Heated to the melting point,
Supported by eyes that cling.
Oh wow!! Absolutely beautiful.
Double Chocolate Sundae
chocolate on chocolate
ice cream
and syrup
sundae
is
doubled delight
stirring my tongue
heavenly
sinful
sweetness
savored
sweetness
sinful
heavenly
tongue, my stirring
delight doubled
sundae
is
syrup and
cream iced
chocolate on chocolate
Double Chocolate Sundae
chocolate on chocolate
ice cream
and syrup
sundae
is
doubled delight
stirring my tongue
heavenly
sinful
savored
sinful
heavenly
tongue, my stirring
delight doubled
sundae
is
syrup and
cream iced
chocolate on chocolate
Chocolate Man
I made you out of chocolate,
my terracotta delight,
your rusty, tactile members
of overly ripe oranges,
they barely move,
in the evening sun.
You melt, ooze
in sepia strips
of delicious delectation.
I am in love, electrified
by a metal spoon,
in my left hand.
May I partake
of your ambrosial ardor?
Melt, but you shan’t dissolve,
melt, and i will
canoodle you with my spoon,
until we become one…
Dessert
Fishing for browned
marshmallow perfection,
the licking flames
and beating heart of
the coals
draw us in, ever closer,
until all
is one flaming,
huff puffing
blackened
creamy centered
groaning
of children
while the gathered adults
look on
murmuring
appreciatively.
I see I’m a bit late in with both my philosophy and my “nugget” but no matter, ’tis also my belief so will have to stand as is … sorry to all forerunners …
Words to Live By …
Life is short and uncertain … eat dessert first
Because you just never know
You could get hit by a bus
A building might fall on you
A massive cardio infarction
Could take you out suddenly
There are just so many things
That might, maybe, perhaps…
Why take the chance? There’s
Always time after you’ve had
Your dessert to eat whatever
Else you care to have – why
Worry? Why sweat it?
After all – you do know what
Desserts is spelled backwards
Right? Exactly … stressed
So don’t get all – eat it first …
S.E.Ingraham©
A PIECE OF PI(KU)
“Dessert?” he
asked.
“Yes, please,” she said.
Cherries
Dinnertime summer dessert, and Daddy keeps
the bowl close, wisely watching
pits accumulate on our plates, preparing to cut
us off. She chooses this moment
to skillfully extract the pit from a juicy back,
present it beside the hollow cherry
creating a deceiving deficit on my poor plate.
I cry red-lipped for a recount, extend
dessert by one more cherry. Tag team, she devours
her pit-less fruit and echoes the injustice.
In fairness, he doles out enough round beauties to
square us up, but sweet victory is quickly
consumed, fades long before the crimson stains
tinging our conspiring sister tongues.
Ha ha! You devious little devils! :- ))
Simplicity Serves
Pretty ordinary, some might say,
fudgy brownie, ice cream on top . . . but
what about the brownie particulars?
Thick brownie, no icing, possibly
baked with chopped pecans . . . but
what about the ice cream particulars?
Two scoops balanced, top center
of brownie. Light colored ice cream
for contrast–coffee or french vanilla
will add class.
——————————————–
Mirage (a shadorma)
Deep in the desert,
sere, sandy,
dessert calls
as mirage of metal cup filled
with chocolate malted.
Death by Chocolate
Give me liberty
or give me chocolate.
Choose life
by the spoonful.
I’ll have some chocolate
wrapped in chocolate
drenched in chocolate.
If I die at the hand
of this concoction
it will be well worth it.
By Michael Grove
Mmm, delicious… I think I have this recipe. One can’t eat it too close to bedtime because the caffeine in the chocolate gives one a rabbit heart. ^_^
CHOCOLATE!!!! Definitely the only way to die.
I have picked a reeeeeeeeeeeeally bad month to go NoSugar. Ya’ll are killin’ me. These are delicious.
NO Sugar!?! De! How are you managing? Can you do honey, or agave nectar? Or fake sugar?
Ahhhh….. now I feel the longing, the yearning, the burning… nah… just consistently wonderful poeming ….
))
Get thee to a DQ, woman!!! Or a Krispy Kreme, or a Cheesecake Factory, or a…
0:) Yes, that is a halo over my smiley emoticon.
Room Service
New love,
and in
the afterglow,
she let me
savor
the hot fudge sundae
off her
bare
bottom,
and I have been
hers
ever since.
Ha! Oh, my. Mosk!
Sounds naughty and yummy. Perfect combination!! ^_^ I love it!
No spooooooon needed. Good One Mosk!
Buddah …. sugar has been an aphrodisiac for you today… Delightful!!!
Whoa! That would do it! :- ))
OK, I read that wrong the first time, and thought EWW. Glad to know you didn’t go there…
One more and I quit. You folks have me jonesing for dessert. Great poems today.
Sweet Addictions
“A woman who cannot be ugly is not beautiful.” Karl Kraus
What could be more
horrifyingly delicious
to him than watching
his beloved devour
a pint of ice cream,
punctuated with bites
of oven-hot brownies,
the chocolate melted
in streaks down
her long fingers?
Ooooooooh luscious
))))
YES!!
I met you at the ice cream shop.
Me—dark and husky, slightly nutty.
You—rosy-checked and sweet.
Mr. Truffle introduced us
Said we were a perfect match.
You were shy
Too timid to stand up under pressure.
I was used to standing on my own
Not sure I wanted a partner.
But he took us to a mixer.
“Just try it,” he said.
Everyone who saw us together
“oohed” and “aahed”
And now I’m convinced.
My strength and your delicacy
Are a blend made in heaven.
Your seeds lure me.
Let’s join forces
We two become one
And surprise the world with our own
Little bush of chocoraspberries.
Why is my comment still awaiting moderation?
A Birthday Question
If birthdays are mandatory,
Can we at least
Remove the calories
From birthday cake?
Daily Bread
She made biscuits every meal,
her hands knowing their way
around the flour and shortening
without measuring. Her wooden
dough tray was carved from an oak
by her grandfather, a gift and hint
to his bride, its surface smoothed
now by three generations of bakers,
its rounded bottom cradling the fat loaf
of dough, small lumps twisted
and plumped onto a baking sheet,
a knuckle to their heads making
dimples in their tops, browning
to flaky perfection, the air infused
with promises of fresh butter,
honey, jam, ham, and thanksgiving.
Beautifully, masterfully written. And now I really, REALLY want hot biscuits with butter . . .
Transformations
“Waste not, want not,”
my mother intoned
using day-old bread
for bread pudding,
bits of biscuits, toast,
and corn bread saved,
transforming crusts worth
pennies with sugar, eggs,
milk, raisins, vanilla,
coconut, and honey
into a fluffy baked wonder
fit for a king’s table,
and almost as expensive.
And even MORE delicious!
)
Just Desserts
She misunderstood his parting words,
thinking of her future ripe
with berry tortes, frothy with freedom,
served with one fork.
Love this, Jane! So short & simple, and yet… one could still read different meanings into “served with one fork”.
Tossing this one up on my blog with different formatting, because trying to figure out spacing on here is… problematic.
…
Shoshin (while baking)
I keep hoping for a transformative moment,
natural and easy: something I can look back on
and say, there, that was it, it was
Completely Unexpected (even if that is
a cream-colored lie) and
I want it to happen when I am doing
domestic things, bent over a blanched
wood board like this, hands
suffused with the smell of dough, granular
soda flecking the table, one wrinkled
blood-jewel cranberry sucked by my tongue:
and you here to see it, mirroring
on my shoulders this mysterious craft
(for how will all this combine with heat
to dance the way it does?)
so I can feel kneaded and maybe
I can feel risen: I want to set butter
aside to soften, and see enlightenment
staring up from a baffled tarn of
murmured gold.
Joseph, I just loved this. The zen of bread making is real (and eating it is not bad either).
Oh yes! What Jane said! And I want to feel kneaded and risen too. Love this, Mr Harker!
Exquisite .. “murmured gold” will linger…
Beautiful, Joseph. I especially love “bent over a blanched / wood board like this” and “mirroring on my shoulders.”
ARGH! I used to bake before I found out wheat was my nemesis. You made me miss the alchemical magic of kneading and baking bread. Sniff.
An Acrostic Limerick Treat
By Madeleine Begun Kane
Though desserts can be very enticing,
Remember — beware of the pricing:
Ended up with a bill
Awf’ly high — bitter pill.
Thanks heavens for chocolate icing!
An Acrostic Limerick Treat
Love this one, Mad.
Lumpy Cookies Taste Best
Your 3 yr old hands crack the two eggs and dump them in the bowl.
While you wash your hands, I fish out the shell fragments.
You hold the tiny wisk with both hands and chop at the eggs til I say, “Done.”
Sugar spills on the cabinet as you measure it into the bowl.
Tiny tongue licks the spatula that is covered with batter.
Flour sprinkled on cabinet, hair, and apron as you roll out the dough.
Smile grows on your face as you cut out animal and doll shapes.
I move each piece to the cookie sheet and place in oven at 350 degrees.
Sound of the timer brings giggles and handclaps as I remove the masterpiece.
The best tasting ones are uneven shapes you made unassisted.
Must be because yours contain more love.
I love this – it reminds me of so many good memories of cookie baking with my boys. ^_^
Thanks Domino. I made cookies with my sons when they were little, now I have a granddaughter to make memories with. The smell of cookies baking brings back mind videos.
Someday I will have a grandchild to make cookies with, but so far, my sons have shown no inkling of parenthood. Ah well, They’re still in their 20s, there’s time. ^_^
Love the picture this paints.
Thanks Marjory
So sweet — and visual.
A freshly baked pie:
tasty dessert and fragrant
home-buyer bait.
Madeleine Begun Kane
And it works — every time! LOL
Dee
I do,
Dee I die.
Look
at desserts
my, o my
Some
like them
fresh an’ hot
others
go for
those icy cold
Me,
I like
every durn one.
Me too, and I love this, ” every durn one,” wicked cute!!
Me three. ^_^
~BATTLE~
Walk, run, bend body backwards in awkward angles,
count calories; skip breakfast, lunch and maybe dinner.
Finally feel that one can indulge, savoring each bite.
Guilt sets in, old thick thinking, release of this burden;
calories narrowly averted, fat causing culprit flushed.
©H.G@P.A. 5/16/12
Poor dessert – down the tube.
I agree, such a waste. :/
Your title is perfect, Hannah!
Thank you, Catherine!!
I never feel guilty eating what i love esp dessert so true this is so well portrayed and written
Dessert
When I sat down
at the restaurant
they treated me
just fine.
But when I went to
place my order,
I could tell
they were confused
by my insistence
on seeing
the dessert menu
first.
I ordered chocolate mousse,
and pie ala mode
and cake, one called chocolate death
and also,
a side of tapioca.
They humored me,
and I had dessert first
and left this time
too full for
dinner.
Diana Terrill Clark
Love it –
wished I had done that last time I was out to dine.
^_^
Big smile here. Fun read.
If I wasn’t worried about a terrible sugar crash, this would be my best plan for dinner tonight. ^_^
The Joy of Being An Adult….
One called chocolate death i would feel alive after that indeed yum so want some now. Lovely!
Apple Betty
Dear Betty
How do I love thee?
By eating thee
In small, dainty bites all over thy perfect form
Thy crunchy-sweet top
Thy deliciously warm and fruity center
And the cream that softly melts
As I absorb thy delights
Ah, Betty
Be mine forever
“Death of the Marshmellow”
The marshmellow, so soft and white
Was doomed to be impaled mercilessly
On a stick, and sentenced to roast that night
Over a fire, due to some unknown heresy
But as he awaited his inevitable fate
His mind drifted, sending him to a blissful state…
He dreamt of being so wild and bold
Of ascending to the clouds, fifty stories tall
Of having legs to walk, arms to hold
And eyes to see everyone below, so small
He could topple cities, crush cars in the street
As everyone would kneel at his feet…
But, in the end, his sugary puffiness
Would be his downfall, and men with blasters
Would ignite him anyway, causing his fluffiness
To rain over the town in an icky sticky disaster
So even though his demise wouldn’t be the stuff of lore,
At least he would fulfill his purpose being a s’more.
“On a stick and sentenced to roast”-Great line, great poem.
Rushing Dessert
I hate when she orders
dessert — and she knows
it — preferring instead
to get her home and alone.
:- ))
Maybe I’ll have something more substantial later, but for now, a little kernel of wisdom:
Life Can Be Sweet
When you’re overwhelmed, feel crushed to the ground,
when life beats you up and everyday hurts,
look at things differently, turn them around -
after all, “stressed” spelled backwards is “desserts”.
How did I never notice that before?? Now I will always remember that when I feel “stressed”
thank you for that
WOW! Now that is wicked cool!! Maybe that’s why some people emotionally eat…they’re thinking, “stressed,” and being fed a subliminal message of, “desserts.” Just thinking out loud here.
Terrific and actually never thought of previously…
Last Course
We’re halfway
through the jubilee
when you inform me
that this was our last supper
and all I can do is
crush the rest of
these crimson cherries
into a bloodied heart.
.
Tweaked a line that was irking me. Final draft:
Last Course
We’re halfway
through the jubilee
when you inform me
that this was our last supper
and all I can do is
crush what’s left of
these crimson cherries
into a bloodied heart.
.
excellent
SO De!!! SUCH awesomeness. Your closer…perfect!
Pure magic – a whole story in one sentence. Great!
Agree with all above… one of your best
Ouch! Simply perfect!
Scent of a Baker
By: Meena Rose
I rang the doorbell;
Anxiously waiting
Wondering if I
Made a mistake
Coming here on
A whim to his
House; interrupting his
Privacy for my need;
A cup of sugar was all
I needed. He opened the
Door shirtless; I felt
The heat rise within my
Cheeks as I stammered
“Can I have a cup of
Sugar, please?” He smiled
And said “Come on in!”
A whiff of cinnamon registered
In my nose as my shoulders
Relaxed; “The apple cinnamon pie
Is almost ready. Want some?”
All I could think about were his
Cinnamon covered fingers and their
Taste; he blushed and cleared his throat
“Finger sucking comes after the second date.”
http://meenarose.wordpress.com/2012/05/16/prompted-wednesdays-scented-experiences/
Oh, so delickously sweet!!! Lol…sorry kinda corny! Great writing, Meena
Thank you Hannah… I am a “sucker” for cinnamon
Ooooh now this is candy cotton whimsy – with a soft core …. Saucy sugar!
A yum on multiple levels 
Good for you and your shirtless sugary cinnamoned fingered baker … New Harlequin cover coming up…. Delicious! 
I still blush from the heat of that moment, I simply could not believe that actually slipped out of my mouth… I was 24 at the time… single, unattached… Kyle, well, was the next door neighbor every girl dreams off
A Naani on Dessert
Eat your dessert first.
It is the only way
to make certain
you’ll have room for it,
By Michael Grove
Now that’s wisdom!
Hear! Hear! :- ))
Friends gather,
bringing bananas, nuts,
cherries, ice cream, chocolate syrup—
Banana split party!
Heirs to Welsh Shortbread
I got back home from the airport
and found your tin of shortbread
on the kitchen island.
This time, instead of a note
from the stem of another holiday,
or I baked-just-because, you left
a message with sweet interest
and banked the obligation
to say you will miss me.
4 wedges with a buttery soul
and a ball-jar of cold milk
never hugged taste buds
so achingly delicious.
Oh, I feel this Yoly…a note with sweet intent is so fulfilling. Wonderful!!
Thank you, Hannah. So glad you felt this.
Oh, I love that last stanza.
Oh so sweet!
Sitting by the fire,
we swim through the
dive-bombers and clouds of spark and smoke,
a reminder of a time forgotten by modern man,
of a satisfaction enjoyed since the first spark leapt from rock to grass to wood.
Ancient ritual, a primal
commune with wind, boughs, and dirt
with fire, the fuel of the soul
draws us to a past,
a longing to mingle with the gods of the earth.
More than sustenance
drips from our fingers and mouths.
A lust of life, of nature, of spirit,
an animal desire for comfort and belonging,
not the manufactured draw of baubles and sweet dessert.
No regrets for the sins of the night,
no longing for the world of tomorrow,
the dying embers let in the chill
of the dark Gods, but warm arms
protect each other’s warm hearts.
We are not lost in
the nothingness of darkness,
the dreaded abyss, not while
we remember who we are, not while
hope reigns.
Home made Yogurt
Sprinkled with strawberries and banana circles
Kissed with honey and walnut pieces
Great for Dessert
or add granola and
viola breakfast.
Dessert in the Desert
I’ve always despised hot days
but here in the desert
collecting cacti
with my camera
heat is dripping down
from my scalp
to the soles of my
crispy baked feet
all I can think of is ice cream
mint ice cream
cold
soothing to my
lips
tongue where heavenly flavor rules
In my imagination I ate
the entire carton
then went back to work
with heat dripping down
from my scalp
to the soles of my
crispy baked feet
Emma! It’s gonna be a hundred in Vegas today, and I can sooooo relate to this. For a sicko like me, there’s a subtle twist here that the “Dessert in the Desert” IS the “crispy baked feet,” which sounds like a street food gone wrong.
Love it. Even if you just meant the delicious ice cream. I shall join you in a cyber-bowl.
Loved loved loved this. Crispy baked feet – too much. In Moreno Valley it’s in the 90′s, so I’m there with you.
BEYOND EDEN
Rock-rose as if winter-
stripped, peri-
winkle stubbled. Sheep
broke the fences
again, razed St. Johns wort.
Demented;
forever famished;
blackjack-lamb wolfing
a lavender
bouquet; old ram’s rumen
churning rivers’
bramble-fringe to blackberry
wine.
For a freckle-
face ewe, the whole lush
garden is dessert,
cinnamon-cherry nipped
to the pits.
“The Deception of Desserts”
Doesn’t it seem a bit wild
That in order to convince a child
To actually eat the food that they despise,
You promise a sinful dessert as their prize?
So, for all the healthy vegetables and grains
That would strengthen their bodies and brains
Just because you hate to hear your kid scream
You counteract it all with cookies and ice cream
So rather than eat because they should
And teaching them which foods are good
We silence them with junk food that tastes great
And when they’re older, they’ll pile it high on their plate
And we wonder why our children are so fat
When the lesson we are teaching them is that
What they eat should always being them pleasure;
Eating right is a labor, but desserts are the treasure.
Sad, isn’t it? And it’s a lesson that carries a lot of “weight” too!
Dessert Haiku
One tiramisu,
four spoons, guilty pleasure shared,
fewer calories.
Someone has eaten
the Snicker bar I hid there
behind the eggplant.
Chocolate makes me smile,
she says, that’s why I need no
justification.
We eat dessert first.
Not because life’s uncertain.
We eat it last too.
Learn to spell dessert:
Sweet Sugar has two S’s;
desert’s one is Sand.
I knew you loved me
when you gave me the first bite
of your crème brulee.
Beware if a girl
claims she doesn’t’ like chocolate.
She’ll tell other lies.
That last one made me laugh
But now I need a tiramasu and a creme brulee! Love these delicious haikus
Loved this, esp the ending. True, true.
These are so clever, Nancy.
Ooooh! A whole box full of little treats! Sweet!
Pie
She crimps
the edges just right
around the skin
-ned apples,
dough mixed with
salt water
on a day spent
half baked.
.
Clever!
Another … the “half-baked” that stayed with me since morning!
Gotta love half baked!
Slippery cherries
on whipped ice cream mountains
held by banana
boats with chocolate coated
pineapple, nuts and a spoon
Dessert
I scrape my teeth
Against the fork
To spite you
Tine by tine
The bite of metal
Clinks softly
Like tongues
Against honey
Do
not
look
away
Awesome, Catherine…I could SO hear that feel the tension, too. Great one!!
Wow-ee. I’d be tirn to stay and finish dessert or to get the hell out of there. Powerful!
Thank you, Hannah!
Buddah, you’d want to get the hell out, but you’d stay like a deer in the headlights.
Dessert Heaven
It comes at the end of the meal
Traditionally
But why
Why do I have to suffer
Through the appetizer
And the main dish
Through idle conversations
Gossip and tripe
Kool Aid or Sweet Tea
And occasional indigestion
I can smell something sweet
Something delicately prepared
With one purpose in mind
And one purpose only
To be the crowning jewel
On an otherwise mediocre meal
For any meal without a dessert
Is incomplete
I can hardly contain myself
I can no longer speak
No longer gossip
No longer sip my Kool Aid
My anticipation is overwhelming
What is that smell
What has mom made this time
Why is she torturing me
She heads for the kitchen
My mouth starts to water
I hear the fridge open
And the tinkle of a plate
Is it pie
Is it cake
Maybe pudding
Or cinnamon strudel
Will there be ice cream
Hurry before I die!!
I hear a saucer
Or is that a bowl
Clinking and tinking
One after the other
The smell is more intense
I still can’t figure it out
Sweetness and savory
With a touch of sharpness
Mixed in the air
Teasing my senses
Driving me close to the edge
Of dessert insanity
The clinking and tinking stop
Mother’s footsteps grow closer
She comes out with a tray
Covered with paper towels
The mystery extends
My torture increases
Pushing me over the edge
And it’s working
“Oops!” she said
“Forgot something”
As she puts down the tray
Still covered with a paper shroud
And heads back into the kitchen
Does she know what she’s doing
Does she realize my predicament
Could she be this cruel
Not my mom
Say it ain’t so
She returns in a flash
That seemed like an eternity
With tablespoons in hand
Shovels of dessert love
Reserved for special surprises
Like the one under the shroud
The mystery about to end
Mother lifts the paper towels
And there in all its delicious beauty
Is a bowl of warm walnut brownies
With ice cream and hot chocolate
Nuts and freshly whipped cream
Sliced bananas and strawberries
And a cherry on top
I’m in dessert heaven
The Hint of a Mile
My mouth has never before been so parched.
I feel
I have been an errant wanderer,
lost in the sun,
sucking on the breeze,
and traveling with nothing more than
a drunken camel back.
My lips are sanded and cracked.
My eyes are no longer
the dependable lenses.
They instead direct me to the end of this
world.
Most of all, it has to be the heat.
While I sit, the sun blazes from above,
making my head blush and blister,
and from under my feet,
driving my flesh into inferno.
I have lost the will.
I have lost the will to continue.
This will be the last time
I order
peaches en flambe.
And another:
The perfect balance
of sugar and salt sit on
my expectant tongue.
If morning is a meal
I am still considering
how to follow orange juice.
Will I stop with that?
Will I sink like a big, wise
fish into the green day
and not stir my tail until
afternoon? Will I take
sparrow stabs at living,
fully in the moment cheep
and a little bit scattered?
Do sparrows stop? I think
not. I think I shall just
lie on my back. A bear,
juggling the irregularity
of a freckled long green-
gold pear with my feet,
rolling it and catching again
with my fissured heel.
For dessert, I shall bowl
some granola.
Oh, man, BARB!! I’m so loving the images you evoke here…each one!! I really like this:
“Will I sink like a big, wise
fish into the green day
and not stir my tail until
afternoon? ”
and the juggling bear!! A WOW from me!!
You got the part I liked best. Lazy fish
JUST DESSERTS
Never think life’s as easy as pie,
for I have news for you, Muffin,
it doesn’t even take the cake.
We struggle to survive,
but at the end of the day,
I scream. The fact is not
how hard it may seem,
for the proof is in the pudding.
After all, that’s how the cookie
crumbles. Candy may well be dandy,
but I can get much sicker on liquor
if I so desire. But then I’d be
as flaky as pastry, and the DT’s
will make me shake like gelatin.
For in the end my friend,
life is what you make it,
whether you chill or bake it,
whip or dip it, spoon or sip it.
Either way you get your just desserts.
Or you donut. Uh, do not!
Pass the sherbet, Herbert!
sweet!
Terrific tone and style in this one – W
How cool!
I Thnk that cover a lot of the bases!
LOL Yup! Just plain nuts! Were there nuts in that pastry??
Sugar Days
She rushed not through
The steamy platters
The golden potatoes russet
The verdant veggies glistening
The roast carved and carrotted
Others toyed with the soup
kicked their chairs through
Each arriving course
She watched the faces of
family that would soon change
shift, shimmer and vanish
and prayed never
for the arrival
of dreaded desserts
bringing spectral signals
of sand running low
let the sweet sugar
stay in the kitchen
forever unserved
forever safe
spun sugar
staying
staying
staying
Cherry Pie
A little flaky,
hot and sweet;
tasty, I’ll Warrant
I’m with Mosk on this one!
Chocolate Pudfing With Skin
There’s nothing akin
to chocolate pudding
with the thinnest skin
Touched under front teeth
Translucent crackled release
pie in the sky here
Haha don’t know what chocolate Pudfing is … Mhmmmm a dessert in the world of IPAD … I was referring to chocolate pudding ( interesting it tried to autocorrect again ) going to look up Pudfing i am now intrigued …happy poeming
We make our own way
What we do is what we get
As our just dessert
Serious
Sensible
Sweet
Made me Smile
Oh, this saying makes so much sense….hmmm our just desserts.
Look sooo good
There tumbled hair
round flushed face
in my rumpled sheets
morning slatting
through the window
could eat you with
that spoon from last
night’s dinner
sparkling where
it fell
Whew! Somebody’s on a roll! (Make that a roll in the hay… hey!)
)
Spun sugar dress
Chiclet toothed smile
Aisle strewn petaled nectar
Vows, dinner, dance
Dessert in the moonlight
Alone
Soon
In just a short while
Oh! “Spun sugar dress” is just so beautiful, Pearl! Love this.
Aw thank you De
…and you’re not talking food at all, are you? ^_^ Lovely anticipation. ^_^
Anticipation is the sweetest sugar
Oh so short & sweet. Loving that spun sugar dress too! How could I not??
)
Spotted dick
I loved you for your constancy,
standing steaming at the serving hatch
each Friday in our ancient junior school,
flecked with currants, golden brown.
I loved you for the velvet kiss of custard,
the wheedling plea for more, doing battle
with the fierce permanents and pursed lips
of our Amazonian dinner ladies.
I loved you for your heavy sweetness
for your stodgy comfort, for the way
I ran my spoon around the empty bowl.
But most of all, I loved you for your name.
Andrew, this is both delectably described and deliciously hilarious. I almost spit out my coffee on the last line. Excellent.
I’m in agreement here, Andrew!!
)
Make that three
Thanks y’all! I always loved that pudding – for a number of reasons…
Excellent! Bravo! I’ve never had such a craving for dick before!
Oooh you naughty boy
Touche! Of course, such cravings are always worse as a child…
Never had a spotted one!
Pastry for Poem
(A Petrarchan Sonnet)
Hollowed sugar pastries contrive surprise
Jelly, maybe custard, orange marm’lade
Donuts, muffins, beignets’ powdered parade
Bear claw, bouchee, eclair, magnet to eyes
Children begging, mother’s heeding soft cries
Employees shrugging will not be dismayed
Little hands reach for sweetened lemonade
O what I’d give for tiny apple pies
Choices like rainbow’s colors pulled apart
From crust to crumb sweet in-betweens do roam
Strudels, danish, wafting peachy pear tart
Golden treats doth surely create a home
O tempt me not for I dare not to start
O ma’am won’t you trade me pastry for poem
~ Randy Bell ~
Will poem for food! Love it – I probably should have eaten breakfast before reading this one…
Oh, I could have SO many cheese danishes!! If only…fun one Randy!
This is gorgeous. And delicious. ^_^
Thank You Andrew, Hannah, and Diana !!
Ah a Petrarchan “Pastry” sonnet… now that is something that is not on the menu every day! Delicious poem – wonderful form… “pastry for a poem” Wonderful
Isn’t it hard to think of desserts that you don’t like?
Broken Hunger
Toffee drips from her spoon
She turns to wipe it clean
Her lips touched it a way never seen
No waste was her game
Ingredients of life was written in her name
Broken brown she laid down
On the work top of pristine white
Crushed it with all her might
Chocolate filled its very inner self
Yellow was the colour that caught her hungry eye
Holding it she finely chopped into sliced dice
Smothering it with creamy white
Sweeter than sugar
Melting on her taste buds
She built a tower of her favourites
In to a game of her own
Finished it off with carved flakes of chocolate
Banoffi harnessed her inner inhibitions of that day
“Broken brown she laid down
On the work top of pristine white
Crushed it with all her might
Chocolate filled its very inner self”
I’m lovin’ this stanza, Ber!! Nice contrast between broken brown and pristine white visually and the alliteration is great, too! Smiles!
Thanks Hannah your too kind
i was listening to man eater when writing this one the song
Here’s an acrostic poem I wrote last year about Tiramisu:
Tiramisu
Tastebuds tingling in anticipation
I lift the spoon to my lips
Running my saliva-soaked tongue
Around the edge,
Marvelling at the sweet sensation.
I let it sit in my mouth,
Savouring the lusciousness,
Using sheer willpower not to devour the lot in one go.
I can’t remember what Tiramisu tastes like but you sure make me drool for one!!
SUNDAY SUNDAE
One
red
cherry
sits on top
daring me to dive
first into the marshmallow cloud
then plunge deep into chocolate
streams running over
vanilla
hills of
ice
cream.
lovely like an adventure of taste
It’s early morning, but the shape and the description make me want to throw out my coffee and start with dessert.
Oh, the hot-fudge part is my favorite, Willy! Fun sundae poem!!
OH, I am with you on that one!
oooh, hot fudge, yummm!
Love of Pavlova
White was the colour
That whisked its way through
Sugar coated crystals of particles
Huddled together
Tugged in to itself
Wrapped in circular motion
This is really a true love potion
Rise from its base
Hunger is erased
Smoothing of creamy textures
Fill its centre so lonely
Fruit is the juice that drips along its edges of delight
Lovingly placed
Enjoy the happiness of subtle happiness
That fills your inner soul
Over come with all the tastes
Closing your eyes with each mouthful of pleasure
This is truly is white dusty fruit filled basket of treasure
No other dessert can measure
The captivating flavour of pavlova’s grasp
Mmm…. Pavlova love. ^_^ I can tell I will be baking tonight…maybe Pavlova, maybe something else that doesn’t take as many egg whites… ^_^
Thanks Domino hope you got to bake something nice
YES, YES, YES,
When I was in Australia I learned how to do them (as I was told) ‘right’ –
They are simple tops.
Thanks for making my mouth water!
Thanks good to learn to bake something different i love learning anything new i was making my own mouth water thinking of Pavlova one of my favorite desserts
When we were in Balaklava, I loved to take part in the Local Show – especially the baking and art, The last year there, we lived across the road from the show grounds, I got up early (entry Dead line was high noon.) and proceeded to start my pavlova – It came out tan!!!
Checking the clock – I made another and delievered it to the judges about 5 to 12. They could not have had a fresher pavlova in the building. I still love the first place prize I got for it. 
Fun, sweet memory. 
Nutmeg Cookies
Formica table
elbows
noses
all dusted in flour,
sprinkles and grins
at the ready.
Grandma Poland grinds the nutmeg
(“ground prit’neart tastes like dirt”)
fresh
into the dough
kneads it with strong arms
that don’t yet no how to drive.
Under her winsome eye,
countless ingredients
and fifteen grandchildren
come alive,
put cinnamon red hot
noses
on Santas.
.
Ohforpete’ssake. It’s early here. Obviously, the line should be “that don’t yet know how to drive.”
Argh.
could be seen as no you cant knead that fast leave it dont be hard on spelling it might take another turn the way its written as in your saying no to yourself slow down i love this and love cinnamon
Thanks, Ber. It has taken every ounce of restraint I have not to just completely repost.
Such a special “sweet,” memory, De!! I can feel the energy of this:
“and fifteen grandchildren
come alive,”
So much vibrant energy in children and you captured your grandmother so well.
Thanks, Hannah. She was one of a kind, and I’m so thankful for the memory-prodding this morning. I may have to ground some nutmeg this weekend.
cinammon noses and nutmeg… stayed with me all the day long.. Delightful poem De…
De, Every child should have a grandmother like this.
I’m sure they would love her just like she is.
Thanks, dex. She was amazing. And we did.
Fresh ground nutmeg is the bomb. Preground really does taste like dirt. ^_^ Love this, De. ^_^
Thanks, Diana. The smell of it still reminds me of her. My mom (her daughter in law) still makes the cookies sometimes, but doesn’t really have the patience for all of the grating. Some things just get lost, with time.
Just grate. Great.
Sorry. Seriously fine, de.
So…grate it fine, yes? That’s exactly what Gram always said.
Thanks, Mosk.
You don’t have to have a red hot nose to appreciate that scent of freshly ground nutmeg.
Such a sweet, tasty & visual trip into the past.
DESERT V. DESSERT
As a kid I was messed
which spelling had the extra “S”?
I can take the desert one time,
but second helpings of dessert are fine.
good i was the same especially when i had to write a poem on it as a child imagined the desert as a huge delight of wonderful dessert
Great memory assist, few can stop a 1 for a fine treat.
I always taught myself tricks for remembering things like this. Mine was that dessert is doubly good, so it had the double s.
Thanks for this treat.
EATING PECAN SANDIES IN THE DESERT FOR DESSERT
Parched and arid,
hair drenched and dripping,
I’m sipping a cold beverage
in my mind. I find nothing but
desert for miles with nothing
but this package of cookies
and a twisted sense of humor.
Got milk? Didn’t think so.
cookies with out milk not the same
THIS WHOLE BLOG TODAY IS SIMPLY FILLED WITH SWEETNESS!
This makes me chuckle!! Smiles!
Love the title! Milk and cookies? Not for me: double cream and strawberries!
LOL Pecan Sandies — indeed! You’re warped, Walt… that’s why I like you!
)