writing is like cookie dough
there's a recipe
that has been tried and proven
and many people have gotten
famous from it
but just because you follow it
doesn't mean you'll get the
same result

The baby goat's mother was shot.
And I was forced to listen to it cry.
Forever forlorn and distraught
And i stood there- hands covering ears
Traveling back in time
----------------------------------------------------
Your mothers heart stopped
And I was forced to listen to you cry.
Lost in a huge world, more alone
And i stood there- hands covering ears

I heard you through the vents
"My mom is dead! My mom is dead"
Falling to the floor I wished I still dreamt
But she had called me before her bed

I heard her voice message months later
You still cried yourself to sleep at night
Sleeping with earplugs....I wish I didn't bake
Because I thought I killed her that night

Peanut butter cookies:
She taught me the recipe.
And two days before she vanished,
I brought her a dozen.
Autopsy reports showed an hour before death;
She took two bites of my cookies-
Went upstairs and her heart stopped.

Coincidentally exactly four years later,
I finally made peanut butter cookies again
And the smell of sweet peanut butter roasting
Stopped my heart

You tip my femininity when you scratch my back with your stubble before you shave in the mornings and it is so lovely to be near one who can cry.

You wear heavy boots with the tip of the steel toe showing to match the glint of mischief bouncing off your eyeglass frames and i stand on your toes to kiss you goodnight on my porch in the snow where you brought me oatmeal cookies to talk with you about foundations.

I don’t know if you needed help with that paper, but I certainly needed the cookies.

David Farrier shoes horses for a living
Found himself in a life worth giving
His whole life to see them from the gate
And finish in life still believing that this race is not just worth trying
But a pursuit of passing on the baton of Faith!
He may pound it and nail it hard but David just won't let you run with your hooves dusted
Oh how he used to shoe us eight times but be filled with the greatest gratitude as he was healed and learned that our hooves are two-divided

Oh I think I need a pat on the back
My hair doesn't feel like feeling the wind against it
Oh that doesn't even rhyme

But a few knows the songs of David as he was born in Rock Bottom
He circled the town eight times and washed his hands as he allows himself very often
Born with a so-called 'natural blindfold disease' he found himself a Savior clothed in the purest of fleece
He asked David to hang for a while and His hand shaked with eternal availability
While His friendship promised milk, cookies and eternal security

Oh I might need a pat on the back
The open gates of change welcomed by a gunshot noise usually freaks me out
Oh can someone get me a rhyme book?

I could just **** as I masochistically type your name into the search bar at the top of the page.  
I want to erase you from my memory,
but my browser catches your cookies.
I don't even know what those cookies are.
the cookies from the jar?
the cookies from my mind?
the cookies from my computer...
the cookies you ate that one time.
Oreos.
Those were your favorite.
Who the **** brought up cookies?
I could just **** as I masochistically type your name into the search bar at the top of the page.

Grandma's in the kitchen today
With a bunch of dough and butter.
I see the dough, so there I stay,
Watching her cut the dough with a cutter.
I knew what she was making now,
A batch of cookies, for the house.
I instantly thought about the 'wows'
Which would come from all over the house.

But as I looked at the cookies,
They seemed to be square, and very thick.
"I know!", I thought with a big smile,
"Grandma's making some bar-cookies!"
So with a big grin, I sat down,
And indulged with joy, not a frown.

Dipped in milk

Or eaten plain

Chocolate like silk

Cookies&Cream;

Peanut butter

****** Butter

Oreo's

Who to blame

Sneaking in the night

Only for a bite

Sweet and touchy

Creamy and crunchy

Let the sugar rush come

Oh, now hand me a tum

Upset tummy

My nose is runny

What's this i hear?

I can't take sweets as I please?

Oh, come on...

You can't blame the cookies!

I feel like a lot of people can relate
to the never-failing love for all the cookies on my plate.

Sweet, delicate, chocolate chip.
I glance at the milk, then take a sip.

Even raisin, sugar, or oatmeal
cause' any kind of cookie is a good deal.

Every cookie, every crumb
these beauties make my heart go numb.

The excitement within me grows and grows
at the pace of the aroma drifting into my nose.

Without realizing, I may have eaten over thirty-one
Any regrets? ha! None.