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KCibot Aug 13
Verse 1:

I'm far away and
I know that you
Miss me

But I promise
I won't be
Too long

Just remember
The last time
You kissed me

And promised me
You would
Stay strong

And now
I sit
And wait...
On this hi i ill

And ima-
Gine Your
Fa ace
Pray you love me sti ill


And everything that
We'll see

Be covered in shades
Of green

Except for the sky
So blue

I want to be
With you

On this hill

Verse 2:
We'll stand amongst the trees
And feel the morning breeze
We'll pray that time could freeze
Oh Lord

We'll marvel at the sights
On this hill
And talk all night
I'll know you love
Me still


Verse 3:

And someday
We'll have a kid
Or two or three

And watch them
Grow like
we eee  eds

And build ourselves
A cottage on the

And when things get hard
Like they are today
We will pack our things
And we'll run awa ay

We'll come right here
Lay down

Nigdaw Jul 20
Bread from waxed paper packet
a childhood memory of mum making tea
snow white, thick sliced
fringed with a brown crust
comfortingly heavy, ****** smelling
the butter pleases me
covered under the tub lid
with a coated paper peeled back
to reveal a thick golden slab of
churned cream easily spread, cold
straight from the fridge onto waiting
fibrous surface, allowing it to sink in
cheese in a yellow block, related to
the butter in so many ways, dairy
a long lost brother, sliced thick with
a proper knife with the pointed curved
tip, designed to ***** and pick up
each slice, placing carefully on the bed
prepared for it to rest, ready for the final
ochre coloured element, mustard, from
a glass jar using a teaspoon, to dollop
before resting a second buttered slice
on top to make a creation, a taste sensation
Anton Mar 24
The calf needs to suckle milk.
The farmer wants to sell it.
The farmer has a sharp knife
and a captive bolt gun.
The calf has wobbly legs
and wide set innocent eyes.
We get the milk
and the calf gets slaughtered.
the words flow in chunks
like bad milk from a gallon
right into your cup
it's not pudding, and it's definitely not yogurt
Chocolates have tasted many
Dark bitter white
Candied and sweet
And from different parts of the
Loved them all ,when I ate them
One, I love the most
Is Cadbury’s Dairy Milk

Unwrapping the purple-golden wrapper
The aroma sweet
Melts in the mouth always a lovely treat
Sweet memories of childhood it brings many
Of sharing the love and care
Sharing this link to an old Cadbury’s ad from 90’s
Gray Jun 2018
Today i got made fun of because my mom decided to name me after a certain dairy product of soy.
People sure do love to make fun of me just as if i was some cheap stupid toy.

I mean, there’s nothing wrong with my name because it’s certainly not hurting anyone.
If you disagree with me i think you need to get all your priorities redone.

I should be used to everyone saying that i am weird,
But on days like today i wonder if it would be better if i suddenly disappeared.

I’m just going to pack up my things now and quietly go.
What’s the point in being alive if you cannot take it in all nice and slow?
Pagan Paul Apr 2018
This is not the best haiku in the world ...
... its just a tribute.*
(to HaikuDonnajones and her Dean).

At the crack of dawn
me and dean go milk our cows,
pulling the udders.

Our cows milk is good
for cheese, yoghurt and butter,
very nice in tea too.

are great, make good customers,
Vegans not so good.

What the hell is this
new coconut milk anyway?
Or soya butter?

I don't understand,
its not real dairy goodness,
its all fake dairy.

Our cows are organic,
no artificial cow feed,
just grass and fresh air.

After milking cows
me and dean have our breakfast
to give us energy.

I may turn Veggie,
but love my deans big sausage,
bacon, eggs fry-ups.

Our goats have kids to,
tidier than our own lot,
don't complain as much.

Me and dean are happy
with our kids, cows and our goats,
on our dairy farm.

© Pagan Paul (01/04/18)
*paraphrased from TenaciousD
Now go read Donna's myhaikudiary poems!
Your teeth are the colour of off milk.
Your odour is of rancid butter.
I see you and I feel sorry for everyone that you spitter on.
I'm sorry for your loss.
Ben Kaw Mar 2018
The timid moon obscures itself
in shadows of intrigue.
Every night you wax,
a striptease of your soul.

The moon looks over all the stars
reflecting the light of an absent sun.
The cold night glows with wonder.
Though you are smaller than the stars,
the twinkles are minuscule in my eyes.

If you are the moon,
and the moon is made of cheese,
then why am I
cheesy so squeezy.
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