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winters the rolls.
If my past childhood memories serve me correctly.
Better than playing in the wettest Christmas snow
leaves a sweet kiss behind.
My lips follows, with an expected sigh.
To again taste one of many...
the many tasty treasures left behind
by the Elusive divine.
In that very moment;
where the sweet cinnamon lubricates
my feisty lips.
All is ******* history.
Isn't it?
And so I ravaged the now decimated sweet treasure
with many sinful bites.
Smoked a cigarette afterwards.
There was a no smoking sign.
Indeed, **** and cinnamon don't mix.
On the tiny red plate, where the cinnamon rolls once lived.
a few crumbs in its wake still exists.
Confusion is typical of this kind of ish.
When you lick the mooing cows hidden dish.

Written and Copyrighted (C) 2014
by Claude Robert Hill, IV.
Consciousness pouring out of me disguised as words. I am craving cinnamon rolls.
Amanda Kay Burke Sep 2019
Working hard is what we do
Each day this place we show up to
Selling pie and pastries too
Wiping tables when we're through
That's just life for me and you
Day two of my 30 day poetry challenge: write a five-line poem to the last person you texted (or fb messaged in my case since i lack a cell phone)
chitragupta Jul 2019
I remember walking back from school
the tenner for the bus ride in my pocket
There would be a row over why I had taken so long
But I'd gulp the sondesh down, and it'd be forgotten

The grey haired proprietor of the sweetmeat store
wore a perennial smile on his face
And sometimes I wondered if he had ever been sad
How could he with those sweets on his silver trays?

I learned to grasp the concept of gravity
when a piece of sweetmeat went down my throat
And then a lesson on quick mathematics
when the shopkeeper stretched his palm for what I owed

But sadly the chemistry book had no formula for me
to turn sugar and milk to that special treat
The report card was skewed, and the scolding that ensued
Was only remediated by my favourite sweet
Throwback to college days when I used to miss home :(

My love for sweets hasn't faded all this time
I'll just cross my fingers and hope you like this rhyme
jasper Mar 2019
welcome to spring
the pastels are
seen everywhere
adults cheer up
the children while
dressing up as white rabbits.
some don’t even
feel that love at home
so they enjoy this
holiday of
chocolate candies,
sugary candies,
and happiness
when they can.
they take their woven baskets,
ready for running on
the grass and
finding plastic
egg shells
filled with goodies.
people don’t even
think about easter
as such a holiday,
some think of it as
a fun day for
sweets and running.
do some people really
miss out on such
activities to hide
the scars they wear
on their body?
sorry, just a thought
Vladimir Dec 2018
She’s bitter-sweet, or maybe sour or sugary;
She’s like a pickle, dipped in chocolate seas;
She’s like an ocean of calm, but often seething,
Like ice cream, mixed with mustard – tasty, surely.

She’s cute as panthers, tame as lions, kind as rhinos;
But whether savage, ornery or sweet –
Of all my lands and kingdoms she’s a Queen;
She is a girl – for “loud out crying…”

The humor is, perhaps, a bit abstract,
But simply put – she’s her, a Queen, a Lady;
And simply perfect – any era, any language,
And lovable, though luckily – not tractable…

To find another – quite impossible, to wit:
She’s more than all the verses on my palette.
For an adventurer’s insatiable palate,
She is a Goddess. We’re Gods – and meant to win!
Kit Scott Dec 2018
It’s like lilacs dancing on your tongue
Like lush, rose-coloured sugar plums
Anya Oct 2018
A glance
The little black figures
of endless text
pass me by
my eyes
seeing nothing
but little
A stick
slathered in
chocolate, and hazelnut
the sweet
The crunch makes me
The sounds
pelting me
things to do
things to hear
being blown away
in the wind
past my
A lone
buzz takes
The sprite
gluggs down
my lungs
A crinkle
from the now,
The led
****** my fingers the
keys click clikety click as I
tap tapety tap
the computer keys the
piano keys
tingety ting
as I push
that little piece of dirt I
rub rub Rub RUB
scratch SCRATCH
The frozen
unbelievable painfully
sweet sweetness
numbs my
cold as
ice freezes
my brain
My brain
My brai
My bra
My br-
My b-
in a blanket of
my tongue is all I know
as I
It's a strange feeling I've tried to inscribe onto these pages. A bit dark, obsessive, attempting to numb obligation with food, some OCD in there. But all of these are maybes, interpret it as however you'd like I hope you find it interesting.
rory Oct 2018
anything sweet
is his
it sounded like a rhyme in my head but not anymore? my boyfriend loves sweets more than he loves me sometimes!
Charlotte Aug 2018
I’ve heard that some see the world in poetry,
And that some see the world in prose.
Some stop to cry out “Oh, woe is me!”
Some just think “Welp, that’s just the way life goes.”

Some things just don’t go the way you plan,
Some things just fall apart or they break,
Baked goods aren’t always perfect out of  the pan.
Think your life is bad? Someone else’s may take the cake.

Sometimes life really is awful, it’s okay to complain,
Sometimes the more one runs, the more one tumbles,
We often get bruised and feel all kinds of pain,
But alas, sometimes the ball just fumbles,
And we watch the way the cookie crumbles.

The cookie always crumbles in uneven fragments,
So naturally someone always get a bigger piece,
But I’ve found that life has a way of finding its balance,
And when I am alone at night, it brings me peace.
Bansi Adroja Aug 2018
We were addicted to strawberry creams
And lemon sherbets
Searching for anything with a sugar rush

Our jumpers tied around our waists
Dragging textbooks and revision notes
Across gravel on summer days
Counting down till it would all be over

There was a world out there
With dragons and knights in shining armour
Or pant suits and project meetings
Depending on who you asked
Or who you were at the time

We wore black and talked about death
Or wished the short days wouldn’t end
At the back of the music block where no one would see
The smell of cigarette smoke on our breath
First kisses and first heart breaks were had

A life time ago but we still have strawberry creams
and those lemon sherbets
A Poem a Day : Eight
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