#cupcakes
On this day of pride, we gather 'round,
With cupcakes bright, where colors abound.
Orange, white, and green they wear,
A sweet salute, beyond compare.
Saffron swirls like morning's dawn,
A vibrant hue, where hopes are drawn.
In every bite, a promise new,
Of strength and courage, tried and true.
White cream peaks with peace in sight,
A symbol pure, of truth and light.
Each tender crumb, a gentle nod,
To harmony's path, where all may trod.
Green icing dances, fresh and bold,
A future bright, in tales untold.
With every taste, we see the fields,
Of dreams we sow, and harvest yields.
In every cupcake, a story lies,
Of freedom won, beneath the skies.
On this, the 78th year, we cheer,
For India's spirit, ever clear.
So take a bite, let sweetness flow,
In each delight, let freedom grow.
For in these treats, our hearts do sing,
Of India's past, and what tomorrow brings.
Aug 18, 2024
Aug 18, 2024 at 1:48 PM UTC
Natsuki baked some cupcakes.
She left them all on the tray.
A blink of an eye,
Sayori dropped by
and took the whole tray away.
Jan 7, 2023
Jan 7, 2023 at 1:10 AM UTC
A 3 year old's mind,
is filled with cupcakes and rainbows.
They see how glitter glows,
they know where the wind blows.
Yet,
They don't see the *** of gold,
That awaits at the end of the rainbow.
They don't know the colors,
Of this fantastic aglow.
But when they grow old,
They'll know.
May 11, 2020
May 11, 2020 at 1:41 PM UTC
Befriend a devil, it would be the unlikely yet best cupcake in your pantry of memories.
Cupcakes are made from scratch, anything that comes in convenient
A devil may be, but they are made from power, vices, and flaws,
and they come in convenient too when you let your demons offer it with a cup of coffee.
A pantry of memories would be boring if you prefer it in monochrome,
Angels with pretentious halos, or Humans with humanity
but then they all left anyway, like how icings are scrumptious
but the cake batter lack one essential ingredient or two.
The devil's cupcake icing would be in dark hues, bittersweet but real
It would have probably lived itself in multiple attempts at life,
Drowning in vices, manipulating people, scarred of flaws, but then again real
Befriend and touch a devil's heart like you would judge the cupcake completely based on the cake itself..
If it is tamed, know that a devil wore power to mask its pains,
If it isn't, feel free to set aside such, along with the Heartless Creatures that grow horns for themselves.
IA
Apr 13, 2020
Apr 13, 2020 at 4:35 PM UTC
Those donuts of desire
the ones Kathy brought in
setting your taste buds on fire
expanding your waistline
again
That cupcake that calls
with your coffee installed
from machines down the hall
dispensing each and it all
feeling the heartburn, begin
Cake on the conference table
baked by the finest of cook
hopefully you'll be able
too eat the 2nd piece
that you took
Working and eating the goodies
coworkers and bosses so kind
offering up with no worries
wives husbands and kiddies
you'll be leaving behind
It'll **** quicker than salt
the sugar upon it's assault
burning in vein, going insane
in the end, it's your heart that will
halt
Jun 12, 2018
Jun 12, 2018 at 10:00 AM UTC
My birthday comes in a little over 2 weeks and I think when people talk about birthdays, they are secretly talking about status in blocked hours.
Somewhere in that 24 hour block, a person was born, and that person was me. .....well Yay I guess.
I don't like my birthday. And the reasons for that, are more complicated than you think.
When I was 13, I was really into cupcake birthday cakes. I asked for one, every year, for a long time.
When I turned 15 and 16, my best friend baked me cupcakes and brought them to school for me, and I shared them with my peers. You see, I considered her my best friend, and I guess that's not enough to be the best friend.
It's like unrequited love if you put poisonous platonic friendship in my blood first.
When I turned 17, she did baked me my last set of cupcakes, but I no longer had a best friend. So I spent my birthday mentally by myself while my family sang otherwise.
And right now, I hate cupcakes, and superhero films because they remind me of her. But saying that is the weakest thing to do, since everything, reminds me of her.
I will never admit I loved her, the same way she will shamelessly say she never loved me. I can't hate her, but I can't see her without hating myself.
You know age, goes up, the same way sadness, goes down. Pulling you into another 24 hour block just so you can say.
"Hey. I made it another day."
I will admit that every day without her is another day without cupcakes, and another day without sugar is another day without happiness. And people may have asked me "How can you flip-flop between preferences like you're not the biggest homosexual in the closet." So when I tell people I'm straight, they tell me I'm not allowed to change my mind.
I loved her, but she left me and took all of my friends with her. And I thought that real friends wouldn't abandon me, but there is always time to be wrong. By the time my birthday comes, I'll be crying, and she doesn't even remember what day my birthday is on.
By the time I read this out loud, I will have been through this birthday, like a person walks through fire. Turning 16 is less about age, then it is about school, and turning 18, is less about the number, and more about becoming an adult. And no amount of adult can neutralize pain.
I have accepted the fact that no man will ever really want to marry me. And no Christian, will ever truly want to love me.
And if I am wrong, I will have to repeat this lost love forever dragging it out in my life.
And if I have kids one day, do you really think...
That I'm going to tell everyone if it's a boy or a girl...
By making blue or pink...
...cupcakes?
Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 4:07 AM UTC
There is nothing quite like a Caramel Apple Thumbprint Scone
I bought two tonight, one for the road and one for home.
Sometimes I buy one for me and one for Mum,
Didn’t bother to tell her I ate them both…every… last… crumb.
Tonight on my way home I decide to buy a baker’s dozen
The trouble with that is I ate six and got an upset stomach
Now here I sit upon this throne, tootin’ and thinking all alone
That there’s nothing like a Caramel Apple Thumbprint Scone….hic!
K.E. Carman
2017
May 12, 2017
May 12, 2017 at 5:10 PM UTC
*You called me cupcake
Because that's all you saw
The sweetest parts of me
Not the the scars that I bore
I will call you a lion
Because of the strength in your heart
You were always so brave
So caring, so smart
But now we have both turned to mice
Too scared to fight our wars
Because you are not longer mine
And I not longer yours
This is not what I wish
Disassociated from you
Without a word spoken
To much isolation for two
I want you to know
That I still love you
Just not the way...
I use to
I want to talk
I want to speak
I want you to smile
So my world isn't so bleak
Just because your not
My whole world any more
That doesn't mean I don't
Want you to be part of it*
Oct 20, 2016
Oct 20, 2016 at 10:15 PM UTC
Its what I want
To hide in darkness veil
Cloaked in this blanket
That has never felt more comfortable
And
Irresposible
As the choices that should not be
Made on this Day
Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 9:26 AM UTC
Pretty Little Cup Cake Store:
I walk through the door.
Somehow I think it will
Cheer me up.
A white iced-pink sprinkled cupcake
Will help me forget.
While unwrapping the trendy black and baby blue doted baking paper
Will bring back the past again.
But, even I know it is a ruse
A joke I play on myself.
You know the owners are some super hot soccer moms whose family invested in their latest project.
Those **** bakers with pretty white aprons
And size two retro-pink waitress uniforms;
Smiling and cooing at the lavender infused cake
That makes this treat go down so smooth.
A gluten-free icing with a garnish of kumquat.
This will land their pictures on the local news.
I am not a size two.
I will just as soon eat a nutty-buddy by Little Debbie
But, this trendy cupcake cafe, makes me feel I am one of those
Pretty ladies in the retro pink waitress uniform.
Kinda like a celebration, for a party of one.
I am not a hot pretty stick chick
I will buy four, five or six of those pretty cupcakes.
Pretending I am buying a hostess gift.
But, the truth.....
My husband forgot that we married
8 years ago this day.
I will pay too much for too little product: but the cake box is cute
I will sit in my car
Eating, till my teeth hurt.
I will rationalize; that I will cleanse tomorrow.
I will go home.
He will ask how I am, while staring at the TV.
"Shussh" he will say, "I'm trying to hear."
There is no use to remind him
He will play the tired "I'm-in-the-dog-house game."
I prefer stuffing four, five or six pretty little cupcakes
Into my mouth then listening
To his tired apologies, weak little lies and false promises of a planned
Surprise.
Instead; I will go to my room; then my private bath:
I will stick my fingers down my throat
And cough up my life.
Apr 5, 2016
Apr 5, 2016 at 7:27 PM UTC
I went to bake some cupcakes
I was in such a merry mood
I miss the sweet creamy taste
I miss the smell of food
Human food, Monster food
Oh, its just the same
What matters is how to make it good
I call this a cooking game
A cup of flesh, and mix it well
Those smelly rotten eggs
Light the fire, the flames of hell
Let's chop these human legs
Ahh, fresh flour - I stole from the store
A little bit of sugar, a little bit of salt
Let's knead the dough, let's fetch the coal
Surely, this is not my fault
For a sudden twist, I suddenly thought
Why not stir-in some blood
The jar of of red, I quickly sought
Where's that stirring rod?
So I baked it in the ancient oven
And waited for some time
Ping! It sprung open!
Now let's give it a try!
Nothing like a meal
For a hungry half-breed
Wasn't such a deal
It was just what I need
Nothing like a Sunday
When you're not feeling mad
Nothing like cupcakes
Nothing like fresh blood
Oh, human bones!
Ack! Ugghh!!
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 1:41 PM UTC
He weeps his heart, and hangs his head,
He doubles back, and follows her back to bed,
She says, " Some homes are towns and lives, while others wear their homes inside." And he keeps up though he's kept out, the volatile, the sudden frown.
She makes up the cupcakes but they're never vegan are they? No they're never vegan are they?
He makes a gift, and wrings his thumbs, the bubble bath, the tepid tub,
Outside where the rains have gone long, something gives him something strong,
And he picks up where he had left off, the trouble is he doesn't know when to back off, and the cupcakes aren't vegan, sweet and such spectacular, but they really aren't eaten, now that they've been made with eggs. No the cupcakes aren't vegan, though they are quite delicious. And he loves her forever, though he never eats again. No he never eats again. No he never eats again.
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 3:02 PM UTC
Give me your inspiration.
Come on, you have enough already.
This isn’t fair, I protest;
how is it that you can create
a dozen pretty iced-cupcake poems
a day and I can’t?
Honestly –
sharing is caring.
I don’t want it all,
just a little bit.
A tenth will suffice.
It won’t take much from you,
I swear! you’ll still be writing
ten-point-eight cupcakes
a day.
Now would that be so bad?
No? Well, then.
Be like that.
It’s not like
I need inspiration …
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 2:07 AM UTC