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yashasweedas Sep 20
The winter cold freezes his bony hands as he counts mere pennies,
While delicious scents waft his way from the grand boulangerie.
Filling the air with chocolate, lemon and even Morello cherries,
How he wish he could try some too, especially the black forest brownie.

He shrugs the dirt off his coat and enters hesitantly,
Concerned about his drab attire, he makes his way to the counter slowly.
To his surprise, the lady gives a warm smile and greets him courteously,
He loosens his clutched palms and drops the few pennies.

"What would you like?" asks the lady as though she sees him daily,
"A black forest please" he mutters as he jumps with joy internally.
She hands him his order and adds an extra smoothie,
Yet all he really paid was two dollars and a broken loonie.
Derrick Cox Sep 2
A river of milk and honey
and a fountain of coconut water
was open to any who were thirsty

Colored grapes gave into their feelings
then later gave birth to a drink
that tasted like truth
for mouths to speak

Cherry kissed whipped cream
while fudge, vanilla, and caramel
swirled in their *******

The pies were hot and ready
getting out of the oven
and got laid on the table
whiffing of apples, blueberries and pumpkin

Like a king on his throne
was a thick cheesecake
sitting on a layer of crust
with a crown
of strawberries and strudel

A jar
of peanut butter, oatmeal, and red velvet cookies
was out in the open
for any hand to dig into temptation

Awaiting on a front porch
was basket of
Cranberry, banana, and cornbread muffins
For the door to open
And be welcome into the house
where souls were craving
for something good
Haley Protega Aug 28
I stand in a dessert without a single dune
- just flat sand as far as the eye can see,
And high above me: an unreachable Moon,
silently shining its silver on me.

Too distant for me to hear,
- but I know it sings
A soft lullaby about fear,
And sorrow, and broken wings.

So I keep walking, further still,
Through this nothingness of sand,
An emptiness I cannot fill,
I wish for a helping hand.

But there is none, and anyway
A helping hand I couldn't use:
I alone must walk this way,
Stand and win, or fall and lose.

A whisper from above and far
Tells me I'll be home soon;
I need no guiding star -
I have a guiding Moon.
Note: The dessert is a metaphor for depression, while the Moon represents the will to live.
Kanishka Jun 13
As I got off the tube in London and
Climbed my way onto the ground I saw,
The increasingly tempestuous but melodious
rain collide with Thames like shiny little gems.
The aroma of sweetness abroad the air,
Led me to a small bakery on a secluded street,
And through the display window I saw you,
Sweeter than any pie, cupcake or pastry.
Come let's travel.
Toast Ghost Mar 20
I hate hamburgers. The meat seems purpluent and frankly, the whole entourage is terribly disdaining.
Although I know it's wrong of me to choose my slimey, unhealthy version of the food mixture, I adore it so. The beautiful, white thick and firm yet light and fluffy vanilla waffle bun, with holes that could tear your very soul out (and your drive to lose weight) and lead it to a creamfilled neverland of euphoric bliss.
The raspberries and they're very mucilaginous texture, ever tempting me alike sweet filled ***** tempts up your stomach and out of your mouth because the habit and this strangely erodic hamburger that you can't seem to keep away from yourself.
Under those sticky temptations that humans named raspberries. Lies an evil not to be released unto this innocently skinny world. The gluttonous rice, the red bean paste. And. the. Unholy amount of S U G A R… yes, my fellow small waist golden cricket. For the good of hell and heaven I will warn you of the gluttonous evil called the mochi patty. We've all heard of mochi. That beautiful ice cream filled tragedy. Only my vividly destructive hell that i call an imagination could conjure this terrible fat producer as a patty in this baneful “hamburger” this mochi patty creates an all ailing armageddon in your calorie count. And a suburb genesis for your tastebuds, for the smooth, powdered sweet beauty is the bane of all. The fall of man was brought by mochi, because mochigome is an angelic harm.
The next ingredient in this burger of allure is a safe ingredient. F i n a l l y.
It's but in normal food and it's not too sweet, there must be SOME health benefits of it surely? That small amount of spice in the creamy oasis. Mixes gracefully with the rest of its poisonous peers.
Now back to my torture of pain and of chocolate *****, next is something hard to save you from all this soft. But don't be fooled just yet, this slab of hard is N O T a salvation. For a slab of hershey's milk chocolate is not ideal for hale. The brits can't even handle how much sugar is in this bar of pure D I S A S T E R. your immune system can't take this angelic evil, eat a carrot instead.
Strawberry ice cream is next made with sugar, vanilla, strawberry flavoring, and E V I L.
Filling your large intestine with sin, strawberry ice creams smooth, creamy flavor. With tiny chunks of cheesecake that squish between your teeth and travel down your throat like columbus, come to enslave the naitive americans that is your pride. Be warned strawberry ice cream might smell like the top of a baby's head going in, but going out it smells like artificial strawberry ***** and shame.
Popped like little tuberculosis bubbles in the saten ice cream. Is what people call bursting boba. I call them orbs of joy, the smooth surface in your mouth is always a surprise, it feels like a cyanide pill. Until it goes P O P in your mouth releasing sweet calcium lactate and artificial flavoring into your soul. They never fail to make you happy. But of course, as all happiness seems to do it eventually makes you want to throw your fat self off a cliffside and that bursting boba will be the cause of your head B U R S T I N G. on the sement.
And last but certainly not least you get to taste the savory evil that is the vanilla waffle bun, once again. And O H H this old friend is not very fun to see once again. The thick bun might be expansive on its own, but i promise it will E X P A N D in your poor stomach. And tasting all of this heinous resplendent horror together will probably **** you from an aneurysm or obesity, or diabetes, or disappointment. But all together it's perfect. And a disaster.
A perfect disaster.
Soooo, funny story actually. This was not meant to be a poem, my seminar professor assigned me to write something about the Perfact hamburger using "evocitive words" and I procrastinated untill the day it was due so I wrote this whole thing like an hour before I was sopposed to turn it in and my friend read over it and told me it kinda sounded like poetry, she then proceeded to force me to post it on here. I went a bit overboard on everything so I'm very sorry for that.
Paul NP Nov 2019
Just kidding, not into division. (timesweeper)

My Rhymes smile with prejudicion cause I'm frequently adoring a story that was meant for poor oratory Fridays. Select the mate of your worst violin, strung and rung pains, tides that share aims.

Peel back the written envelopes of a mail suggested and offered to the salient spaces of first men on the bridge. Newcomers all hearkened to up-let the steam in event of a seeker.

Don't do a little piece of writing. Don't do a small breath of typing. I'm squaring up a fools cloak with letters that feel like dying, (sigh)..

I'm lying, they-are-a sleepy Arcturian's artistic filing.
(austerity measures)

Drawn out, yawned in, super perceptible precepts of fallen identities. Christ's idolons on the pond of a simple Wednesday..(bellow)

Congregating Unity with The-Taurus of my beloved memories in witnessed 'n kissed weddings of a scholar sitting in the thymus of a souls uniquely paced sage.(Time)

Forget about the homies making me soggy, flashing glares of shadows stare at the bare minimum semicolon semi-auto corrected suggestions fouling the circumstances by willingly peeking and dismounting a worried dagger.

Green rule for the sage , resurrecting : reassuring cues... of the upper... middle fumes...ballooning the chest of a few this divine breast is be you. reassuring  reasserting  resurging might. Time well spoke.

Crafting The
Passage of Time.

Listen to your heart's virtue, let the rhymer and the seeker enloven eleven. The doorway to the chest of a soul's pure fire. Forever!

Green when you yellow your souls dusty dove. Doer's and clovers laid out like a flood.
Let the meek soldier see a soldier. Let the meek hunter see a daunting thunder. Let the seeker feel a little love bite, no shame it's a dust mite, a precious jeweled thunder when he's up right.

Seeping into the floral dynamics of the Anima, questing questions arise: "Who is governed by a whole hearing, all feeling flower?. I must be off my hinges, dark umbrella masking a holding hymn for the Greek Fin that spindles of discipline I am Yin Sim, Simulating hymns from the closeted pact of an old brittled, speakless... immortal sin! Never again, will I! contend! with a soul who knows how to shame, outside with the pin! (needle) ((Eminem, I am Smarties.)).

No worries, all plenty, I shook my head when I met me. Non Jin dreamer. Non Yin eater. Non dairy diaries no milk only honey, I'm sugary like nestle, I'm nestling with empathy resting on the balcony yolking the Tolkien talks with bruxby. I'm go feed, on the go, give em that nutrient rich sap de-tapped from the soul. My yin isn't for sleeping, smoking nor vamping it's harder for me to unwrap when noisy, so I pay some homage to the talky walky critters by living quiet and balanced, weighed in myself as your pause.

Empathy: Blue and Yellow.
And the spaces in between are Dan Winter's bigger Picture.
progress made
Meredith Leigh Jun 2019
birthday cake ice cream
but you lost all your sprinkles
now just vanilla.
While staring at the
Large, black abyss full of stars,
You tend to feel small
I am
limitless and
time in
a whale
that made
dale there
my cactus
so thistly
was my
home now
as I
roam my
intrigue to
New Hope
my senator
pardons me
a lamb
a community in southeastern  Pennsylvania
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