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David Adamson Mar 2019
N.  N is for neurologist.  
What does the neurologist say?
“Nothing seems to be wrong.
Your net recall seems normal.
You seem to remember most nouns and the news.
Nothing serious,
No need to worry.”

I don’t quite remember driving here.
This is Bethesda, right?
And your name is…?

P.  P is for psychologist.
The P. is silent.
So is the psychologist.
I talk and talk.
My energy level is high today,
even though I got no sleep last night.  
I want to write a poem and run a partial marathon.
I love people.
People are so beautiful.
“Only connect,” said E.M. Forster.
Am I talking too much?
How does that make me feel?
Just great!  Not like yesterday,
when I wanted to jump into the Potomac
from Key Bridge.
P is also for Potomac.
The psychologist speaks.
I need a new pill.

E. E is for endocrinologist.
What does the endocrinologist say?
“Eat. You’re an enigma.
You are losing weight.
We don’t know why.
We’ve checked everything
and can’t find evidence
of enemies in your endocrine system.
Enjoy some eclairs, eggplant, eggs benedict.
Life is short, endulge!  
Hopefully not too short.

O. O is for oncologist.
Oh.
Oh oh.
John F McCullagh Feb 2013
Cream puffs, cannoli’s and Saint Joseph’s pastries
I can’t decide which, cause they all look so tasty
Chocolate eclairs and Cheese Danish rings
These are a few of my favorite things

Creamy napoleons and crisp apple strudels
chocolate truffles, oh yes!, give me oodles!
Black and white cookies and chocolate ring dings
These are a few of my favorite things

Girls in the pastry shop stifle their laughter
they know that their cheesecake must be what I’m after
miniature pastries, boxed, ******* with string
These are a few of my favorite things

When my belt’s tight
When my pants split
When I'm feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite things
And then I don't feel so bad
Mike Hauser Dec 2016
If I were an elephant
I know just what I'd do
I'd pack my trunk with all my junk
And move far from the zoo

I'd bring with me my monkey
Best friend and sidekick Preston
If memory correctly serves me
He's a **** at giving directions

Cause I'd like to move to Timbuktu
Either that or Kathmandu
One thing is clear as long as it's not here
Any old place will do

I'd then open up a doughnut shop
Run by Preston the monkey and me
Where we would toss sprinkles on top
With banana creme in-between

We'd be known far and wide for our doughnut delights
Oh and fancy schmancy eclairs too
Yes if I were an elephant
That's exactly what I would do

Wouldn't you?
Mike Essig  Feb 2016
Aeromancy
Mike Essig Feb 2016
February a baleful month
dabbed with deep darkness,
the calendar's mortuary
nature's own Gulag.
Its window opens upon
possible impossibilities
none of which yield joy.
Crows plummet murderously
from the heavens
vainly trying to flee
into spring but merely splat.
Roads are crushed
beneath a carpet of ****.
Frosted blimps soar naked.
Boots refuse to stay tied.
Your parent's nightmares
freeze your sweaty sleep.
Snow falls like dead swans.
Eclairs crystallize into
lumps too solid to enjoy.
A month of undeserved
solitary confinement
that trembles the soul.
A deep achromatic terror
keening coldness
in a huge white wail
penetrating the ears
until march stops
the madness and hope
blossoms as crocuses,
apricity achieved,
small phosphorescent
dots of desire.

  ~mce
I hate February.
Harshit Chopra Sep 2014
The last year ,
And we'r here .
The teachers cared ,
But we feared ....
The school has the layers,
But we'r the players ...
Just keep the memories
And eat eclairs .. :)
Follow on insta for more poems - @choprasahab
Anais Vionet  Dec 2021
boxing day
Anais Vionet Dec 2021
It’s boxing day (the Brit name for the day after Christmas) and Pamela, Lisa’s grandmother is visiting our little pandemic ark. Pamela’s a Cowboys fan so we’re watching them slaughter Washington - between commercials - but now a Tesla commercial is running. “Those electric cars,” Pamala says dubiously, “seem problematic.”

“You’ve heard of global warming, haven’t you, Pamala?” Leeza says. Leeza addresses everyone (even her grandmother) as if they were her age (12). It’s both seductive and lazy. “This whole system,” she raises her arms to include the apartment, the city and America, “will collapse - we’re DOOOOMED,” she concludes, as if speechifying to an eager crowd.

“Everyone’s heard of climate change,” Pamela says, sipping her eggnog. Pamela is as well informed as any of us and seems rather envious of the future, even the coming awfulness.
“Leeza’s her own theatre,” Her mom says, grimacing indulgently.
Leeza’s full attention was now on the pastry tray - having spotted two small eclairs under the bear claws - she'd lost interest in the conversation and saving the planet.

“The system won’t collapse,” Will says. Will received his early acceptance letter from Harvard the other day and now he knows everything. “We’ll lose Florida, South Carolina and New York,” he pronounces calmly, “so there’ll be some.. migrations.”
“Thank you, professor,” Lisa says, rolling her eyes as if to say ”Harvard people.”
“I think the Covid might get us all - before climate change,” I say, in the spirit of the holiday.
“Well,” Will says, grinning, “that’s what ALL the people at inferior colleges think.”

Leeza, passing by my easychair, curls into my lap like a cat, gently petting my hair. “Don’t be mean to MY friend,” she says, purringly - I was suddenly her possession. Lisa comes out of her chair, a sly smile on her face, to lay crosswise atop Leeza (and me).
“Ugg,” I managed to say, squirming to get comfortable, then “Akkkk.”
Lisa says, “Leave my poor roomie alone!” and starts baby-kissing my head.”
Will starts in our direction like HE’S going to pile on. “Egggg! I shrek, “HELP!”
Pamela whoops with glee as Dallas scores another touchdown.
“Like beating a dead dog with a stick,” she says.
holiday football chatter
Starlight  Jul 2018
Eclairs
Starlight Jul 2018
I am an eclair,
With brittle thin chocolate on the outside,
A hard layer of lies that takes little to penetrate,
Followed by fluffy cake beneath,
Soft to mould and ruin with words and teeth,
Following is my inner cream,
My turmoil of delicious darkness,
Liquid courage sliding through my fingertips,
Always out of my grip,
And the soft taste of defeat on my tongue,
As I hit that creamy centre,
Biting away at myself,
Until there is nothing left but breadcrumbs,
And sticky fingers.

I wash it down with passionfruit juice,
Because the tang offsets the misery.
zebra  Dec 2020
Borscht Belt Doc
zebra Dec 2020
he watched her excitedly
eat **** shaped food
especially eclairs
as she languidly tongued
the white buttercream
from the sides of her mouth

thinking of her
his masturbations
powered the lights
of the Catskills

it wasn't just his profession
it was his obsession

just another horney
borsht belt gynecologist
https://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=bordchtbelt+humor&docid=608009001296593341&mid=97D5DA384A98BD24BFED97D5DA384A98BD24BFED&view=detail&FORM=VIRE
betterdays  Apr 2014
half
betterdays Apr 2014
half formed thoughts,
half finished lines,
breakfast  half eaten,
left on the...

half asleep,
half awake,
half dressed child,
starting today...
a mistake.

let us rewind,
to, when we were
all still abed.
then when the alarm
rings out
snooze it
pretend we are dead
at least to this
half made greyest day
and turn away
from this half formed mayhem
of  harried reality

go back, go back,
to the land of dreams
for today,
the better choice...
no half sown seams to burst,
hems to trip on,
clothes, that will not zip,
the zip on that set of pants that i must fix
no bad hair, no external rants,
about work incomplete,(half done).
no thinking rude thoughts,
about stinking heat swelled feet.
just cool linen,
pressed against my tired cheek
.. and an island
deserted... with cool breeze
and
a fridge with filled with
chocolate eclairs
and iced coffee ...
a big squishy chair...
utopia ....
see i am halfway there..
but
halfway here also
and the bell has rung.
time for these...
half @rsed musings to be done.
phones to answer, emails too
reports to analyse, lectures to
prepare,
here i am
half an hour
into the day
and already...  way..
too tired to deal....
so position.. my clock hands... at..
half way past... i don't care.
this, an older piece, but suits the mood
still not particularly inspired

— The End —