The answer to life's problems
Is in front of your face
It is pie indeed
Make no mistake

Pies of all sizes
Take your place
Delightful to gaze upon
If even not so great

How can you mess up
Something in a round plate?

Meringue or not
They are all so yummy
Just thinking about them
In your tummy

The thought alone is
Oh so yummy!

For now I will retreat
To something not so grand
But soon I will rejoice
With pie in hand

Shucking peas on the back steps
Maureen and I watch her Mum,
My Aunt Grace,
Arguing with Aunt Edna
In the kitchen
The narrow kitchen
Of number 84 Truro Road
As they whip a Sunday lunch into shape
A test match drones on the radio
The aroma of mint on new spuds teases.
It’s a modest roast
Served in the tiny parlor
To nine of us!
Eating elbow to elbow
With yellow handled knives and forks
Down to the bare porcelain
Waiting for the apple pie
with Libby’s.
That crust, with sugar sprinkles
Is a lifetime goal for me!

I learned about Oxalic Acid
At seventeen
When less than anxious for yet more information
More notes on a chalkboard
In a malodorous Sulphurous  school room.
Hastily copied in pencil
Scribbled then and required to be transformed
Later, into copperplate, almost textbook pages.
To be judged as adequate; or not.

Oxalic Acid; not as deadly.
But in a close league,
To the clear deadly liquids
Held in the dusty skull marked bottles
Within easy reach of any manic schoolboy.
Dusty bottles in a rack
In a rack on a bench
On a bench where I sat
Where I sat wondering why my mind
My sharp juvenile mind would never grasp
Molecular Valence Theory quite as well
As the taste of a girls lips
The smell of her hair
The ring of her laugh
The answer to a question in her eyes.
Years later
When that girl had gone
I read that Oxalic Acid is found in Rhubarb leaves.

A slice of pie changed my life.

I had worked so hard
To be a person worthy
Of someone else's love and care,
I had changed myself
To fit the mold of someone
Others could pay attention to.

Isn't that what we all do?
Make ourselves loveable?
Simply because that's the thing
We want most in this world:
To be loved.

But then you didn't know me,
You didn't see all the things
I'd done or the person I'd become.

You were there.
I was there.
And that was enough for pie.

It didn't matter to you
What I could do.
It didn't matter to you
Who I was too.

You loved and you cared
Because you wanted to.

A slice of pie changed my life.

Red Yellow Green
So many colors to choose from
And than so many different types
Big Macintosh, Granny Smith, Golden Delicious!
But in what way will you have it?
Will it be a pie, or a **** or maybe a fritter? So many ways, so little time in the day to make it all!

Rocks; these are my rocks.
Sediments: make me sedimental.
Smooth and round, asleep in the ground.
Shades of brown and gray abound.
~Maud Pie

I'm barely worth a piece of pie;
An amusing chocolate, or maybe cherry,
Or maybe a new pair of ******* is
My celebration.

Two were suffocated
One stabbed
Four drowned
Three broken neck.
A massive shock for her,
articulated.

10 were over
None are forgotten,
7 irrelevant
but 3 where all 3.

She was asked to
portray all these
in a pie chart.

While he was eating
a blueberry pie.