"cupcakes" poems - Hello Poetry

Cupcakes, Oh Cupcakes What a Delight Its cake thats tiny! Bite size like that! Its decorated with sweet icing cover in candy Oh cupcakes, Oh cupcakes What a delight. . .

0

Oct 1, 2014

Oct 1, 2014 at 11:59 AM UTC

loveangelsey

Cupcakes Delight

Cupcakes, Oh Cupcakes What a Delight Its cake thats tiny! Bite size like that! Its decorated with sweet icing cover in candy Oh cupcakes, Oh cupcakes What a delight. . .

8

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.

0

May 2, 2014

May 2, 2014 at 3:02 PM UTC

martin-narrod

The Cupcakes Aren't Vegan, At Least I Don't Think They Are

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.

7

09/17/14 - 1:15 am **** "buying me pizza and touching my **** how about you take shots off my stomach and bite my lip **** "buying me pizza and touching my butt"drip ***** down my ******* and pull my hair **** "buying me pizza and touching my **** cuddle with me and listen to depeche mode or pink floyd or the smiths **** "buying me pizza and touching my **** let me read books to you as you fall asleep on my lap **** "buying me pizza and touching my **** take me out to dinner and I don't mean somewhere fancy, hell take me to an old run down diner in the middle of nowhere and then roam the streets with me at an outdoor swap meet **** "buying me pizza and touching my **** bake cupcakes with me on a Saturday evening and watch a bunch our favorite movies **** "buying me pizza and touching my **** take me on a Ferris wheel my second favorite place in the world and look at the way the moon wakes up with me **** "buying me pizza and touching my **** take me to a rooftop and tell me your greatest fears. Tell me exactly who you are, if you haven't already.i promise I'll remember. I won't be like your dad and forget your birthday. I won't be like your late sister who forgot to say "I love you" on her way out the door that one evening. I won't be like one of those people who forgot to tell how important you are everyday. But I will be your friend when you need it. You're conscience when your too strung out on all the wrong types of right. You're lover when all you want to do is too spoon so you don't feel lost tonight. You're shoulder to cry on when something goes terribly wrong. All I ask of you is that you do not, "buy me pizza and touch my **** v.m

0

Sep 17, 2014

Sep 17, 2014 at 4:19 AM UTC

vanessa-9

**** "buying me pizza and touching my ****

11

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?

0

Feb 26, 2018

Feb 26, 2018 at 4:07 AM UTC

Swingline

Turning Adult

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?

20

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!!

0

May 7, 2014

May 7, 2014 at 1:41 PM UTC

jeuden-totanes

Cupcakes and Blood

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!!

34

*He reminds me of red velvet cupcakes. His clothes are dark like it's wrapper. Skin as sweet as the white frosting placed as the topping. Cheeks blood red like the colour additive added in the recipe. He's sweeter than honey coming out of the queen bee. I'm telling you he's a cupcake to me*. ~

0

Aug 15, 2014

Aug 15, 2014 at 9:41 AM UTC

carolin

Red Velvet Cupcake

*He reminds me of red velvet cupcakes. His clothes are dark like it's wrapper. Skin as sweet as the white frosting placed as the topping. Cheeks blood red like the colour additive added in the recipe. He's sweeter than honey coming out of the queen bee. I'm telling you he's a cupcake to me*. ~

14

Part of me will never forgive myself for not following through on the promise I made to you But another part knows that you wanted me too Forced me to Part of my brain was already on the way to the store to get cupcake making supplies when the other part of me, remembered that you don’t have a sweet tooth Unless the cupcake was laced with misery, there was no way you would sink your teeth into it I wonder why you had wanted confetti cake when all you know is grey I wonder if you were hoping that I could bake some color back into your throat so that your own voice mattered to you again I convince myself that things are better this way but it is like wishing on a cake the day after your birthday Forced and futile though appreciating the sentiments. I would have given you the universe baked deep inside of the cupcakes that were my proof that I could be worthy

0

Apr 14, 2015

Apr 14, 2015 at 11:06 PM UTC

Nicolette-Avery

Swallow

Part of me will never forgive myself for not following through on the promise I made to you But another part knows that you wanted me too Forced me to Part of my brain was already on the way to the store to get cupcake making supplies when the other part of me, remembered that you don’t have a sweet tooth Unless the cupcake was laced with misery, there was no way you would sink your teeth into it I wonder why you had wanted confetti cake when all you know is grey I wonder if you were hoping that I could bake some color back into your throat so that your own voice mattered to you again I convince myself that things are better this way but it is like wishing on a cake the day after your birthday Forced and futile though appreciating the sentiments. I would have given you the universe baked deep inside of the cupcakes that were my proof that I could be worthy

23

She’s cracking eggs. “What are those?” she asks, pointing to white and red specks in the bowl. Once I’d have told her it was shell- but she’s too old for that now so- “Where the eggs started to grow” “Into chickens?” “Yes” “Oh” she says, staring intently at a gooey mess in the palm of her hand. I finish weighing out the ingredients, wipe her clean- “Which colour icing do you want?” She’s carefully spooning cake mix into bright-striped paper cases. “Can we make angel cakes instead?” I go into the kitchen to pre-heat the oven, steal two minutes silence. Deep breath. “No. We'd be cutting up perfect little cupcakes to make the wings” Choked. I can’t tell her why I don’t do Angels in December.

0

Oct 19, 2011

Oct 19, 2011 at 3:55 PM UTC

ju

cupcakes

She’s cracking eggs. “What are those?” she asks, pointing to white and red specks in the bowl. Once I’d have told her it was shell- but she’s too old for that now so- “Where the eggs started to grow” “Into chickens?” “Yes” “Oh” she says, staring intently at a gooey mess in the palm of her hand. I finish weighing out the ingredients, wipe her clean- “Which colour icing do you want?” She’s carefully spooning cake mix into bright-striped paper cases. “Can we make angel cakes instead?” I go into the kitchen to pre-heat the oven, steal two minutes silence. Deep breath. “No. We'd be cutting up perfect little cupcakes to make the wings” Choked. I can’t tell her why I don’t do Angels in December.

21

Quaint pink curtains and tablecloths. White walls. The sugary smell of almonds, pistachio and butterscotch skip around the room, playing hopscotch and Mary Mack. The display is impressive, I can smell each grain of sugar in these petit cupcakes and dollops of icing. And then a little girl wails! Mommy won't buy her anymore sweet treats. Bawling-- the girl does an angry-stomp-dance- and then a woman, livid-- storms up to the counter. I said half dozen almond biscotti. I can't take these to my book club. Isn't anyone here competent? Her booming voice has no effect on the lone, tired African-American woman behind the counter. She seems disassociated from the present chaos. The dark circles under her eyes and the surrounding pursed lip wrinkles say everything. Excuse me, but I've been waiting on a refill of the complimentary coffee for over ten minutes now an uptight gent in a business suit complains. When the woman behind the counter pulls out out a shotgun-- there is silence. This ain't what I wanted she whimpers just before the weapon gracefully slides under her chin-- --!BAM!-- As I walk out the door, I wonder how long it will take for someone to realize that's not red icing or sprinkles on the cupcakes.

0

Aug 13, 2011

Aug 13, 2011 at 10:32 AM UTC

brycical

Happy Little Cupcake Store

Quaint pink curtains and tablecloths. White walls. The sugary smell of almonds, pistachio and butterscotch skip around the room, playing hopscotch and Mary Mack. The display is impressive, I can smell each grain of sugar in these petit cupcakes and dollops of icing. And then a little girl wails! Mommy won't buy her anymore sweet treats. Bawling-- the girl does an angry-stomp-dance- and then a woman, livid-- storms up to the counter. I said half dozen almond biscotti. I can't take these to my book club. Isn't anyone here competent? Her booming voice has no effect on the lone, tired African-American woman behind the counter. She seems disassociated from the present chaos. The dark circles under her eyes and the surrounding pursed lip wrinkles say everything. Excuse me, but I've been waiting on a refill of the complimentary coffee for over ten minutes now an uptight gent in a business suit complains. When the woman behind the counter pulls out out a shotgun-- there is silence. This ain't what I wanted she whimpers just before the weapon gracefully slides under her chin-- --!BAM!-- As I walk out the door, I wonder how long it will take for someone to realize that's not red icing or sprinkles on the cupcakes.

44

i still **** my tummy in, imagine it smooth. my mom was surprised when i confessed i was shirtless, with nothing but my sports bra. (at least I’m tan) you say you like my tummy, and some days I do too. i still slap my thighs, imagine scrawny flesh, stretch marks are lost among photoshop wonderland. i’m an hourglass figure, you say, but I find it silly we compare body types to glasses, and fruit, for we are a combination of things, we are stars, and seas, and candy, and railroad tracks that sometimes go around in circles until we ***** i still see my limbs as different people, and i wish i could detach them like the toxins in my lungs. people like my *** so maybe that’s why I move it so much when I’m drunk. people say I’m Arabic, people say I’m Mexican, people say I’m Muslim, but really I’m all of those combined into a mixing bowl, and one day maybe, I’ll make cupcakes and swallow them whole.

0

May 1, 2013

May 1, 2013 at 4:20 PM UTC

amber-s

baking cupcakes

i still **** my tummy in, imagine it smooth. my mom was surprised when i confessed i was shirtless, with nothing but my sports bra. (at least I’m tan) you say you like my tummy, and some days I do too. i still slap my thighs, imagine scrawny flesh, stretch marks are lost among photoshop wonderland. i’m an hourglass figure, you say, but I find it silly we compare body types to glasses, and fruit, for we are a combination of things, we are stars, and seas, and candy, and railroad tracks that sometimes go around in circles until we ***** i still see my limbs as different people, and i wish i could detach them like the toxins in my lungs. people like my *** so maybe that’s why I move it so much when I’m drunk. people say I’m Arabic, people say I’m Mexican, people say I’m Muslim, but really I’m all of those combined into a mixing bowl, and one day maybe, I’ll make cupcakes and swallow them whole.

29

Craving for my mummy's cupcakes But mummy isn't at home She has classes day in and out.. Who will bake me cupcakes? I am super cravings.. I want yummy cupcakes.. Hah! Let's bake my own cupcakes and surprise mummy a little.. when she gets home flour, butter ,sugar, eggs put them all together in the mixer and out I go to play some games Oh .. now I remember the fun of my cupcakes but oppss... what have I done? my mom's kitchen is in disaster!

0

Jun 29, 2013

Jun 29, 2013 at 10:08 PM UTC

sharina-saad

Cupcakes Cravings...

Craving for my mummy's cupcakes But mummy isn't at home She has classes day in and out.. Who will bake me cupcakes? I am super cravings.. I want yummy cupcakes.. Hah! Let's bake my own cupcakes and surprise mummy a little.. when she gets home flour, butter ,sugar, eggs put them all together in the mixer and out I go to play some games Oh .. now I remember the fun of my cupcakes but oppss... what have I done? my mom's kitchen is in disaster!

15

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.

0

Apr 5, 2016

Apr 5, 2016 at 7:27 PM UTC

patty-sharkey

Pretty Little Cupcakes

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.

44

I looked up to you I wish I were you You and I were the same Even though people told me you were insane I didn't care what anyone said Because when I needed you You always came to my aid But then you weren't there for me When I needed you the most It felt like no one cared for me I was so lonely I used to hate you I'm glad I forgave you All the thoughts of fantasy I dreamed us as a family Ended up being a sad tragedy I won't make the same mistake I'll be there for every birthday cake From the time they wake To the time we go to the zoo and see a king snake In fact well even make Swiss steak Or cupcakes Or pound cake We'll play with snow flakes We'll go see great lakes I'll be there for heartbreaks I'll give them the love I never had I've forgiven you already and I'm not mad But at the end of the day I'm still glad You were my Dad

0

Oct 9, 2018

Oct 9, 2018 at 10:25 AM UTC

MarvelMe

Dad

I looked up to you I wish I were you You and I were the same Even though people told me you were insane I didn't care what anyone said Because when I needed you You always came to my aid But then you weren't there for me When I needed you the most It felt like no one cared for me I was so lonely I used to hate you I'm glad I forgave you All the thoughts of fantasy I dreamed us as a family Ended up being a sad tragedy I won't make the same mistake I'll be there for every birthday cake From the time they wake To the time we go to the zoo and see a king snake In fact well even make Swiss steak Or cupcakes Or pound cake We'll play with snow flakes We'll go see great lakes I'll be there for heartbreaks I'll give them the love I never had I've forgiven you already and I'm not mad But at the end of the day I'm still glad You were my Dad

30

what I really wanted had little to do with cupcakes and everything to do with the way your eyes followed my lips & tongue as I pulled the first taste of icing into a mouth that has been ready to tell you "yes" since before you formed the question.

0

Jun 29, 2012

Jun 29, 2012 at 1:22 AM UTC

N23

When I Asked For A Cupcake

what I really wanted had little to do with cupcakes and everything to do with the way your eyes followed my lips & tongue as I pulled the first taste of icing into a mouth that has been ready to tell you "yes" since before you formed the question.

10

She stood, amidst tutts, wore a mini skirt... (From the first decade). Took a Step forward, pioneering the teenager Long fair hair, parted mid section Cascading over her cherry cupcakes Remembering first impressions aren't always Accurate, they still berated her without Knowing her. First appearances were all They knew and could rely on...back then Why would she wear a skirt so short if Respectability meant anything, closed off They too had been judged, time dulling Their posture straight backed. Space lacked Room to be filled with meanderings of another Era, balancing her book atop red curls and Speckled egg skin. Recalling the longing Admiration of someone who dared to wear Their inner choice on the outside

0

Feb 19, 2013

Feb 19, 2013 at 12:25 PM UTC

laura-susan-smith

Courage

She stood, amidst tutts, wore a mini skirt... (From the first decade). Took a Step forward, pioneering the teenager Long fair hair, parted mid section Cascading over her cherry cupcakes Remembering first impressions aren't always Accurate, they still berated her without Knowing her. First appearances were all They knew and could rely on...back then Why would she wear a skirt so short if Respectability meant anything, closed off They too had been judged, time dulling Their posture straight backed. Space lacked Room to be filled with meanderings of another Era, balancing her book atop red curls and Speckled egg skin. Recalling the longing Admiration of someone who dared to wear Their inner choice on the outside

18

I'd never be the same to hear those lovely words, The 3rd night the game we played, Cupcake hearts and chocolate pies, Snowflakes and shooting stars, Getting lost, grounding land

0

Mar 4, 2013

Mar 4, 2013 at 7:43 PM UTC

diana

Cupcakes

I'd never be the same to hear those lovely words, The 3rd night the game we played, Cupcake hearts and chocolate pies, Snowflakes and shooting stars, Getting lost, grounding land

5

Can you be my cupcake tonight ? If you be the cupcake ill be your sprikles and frosting . Your chubby blushing cheeks remind me of red velvet cake . Im **** sure what im saying is no mistake because you remind me of that kind of cupcake . Did anyone ever tell you that your sweeter than sugar before ?! Because if not than here I am telling you your sweeter than blood red jam . Now come on darling undo your shirt and let me take a bite out of your heart tonight ~

0

Jul 9, 2014

Jul 9, 2014 at 8:32 AM UTC

carolin

Cupcakes and chaos

Can you be my cupcake tonight ? If you be the cupcake ill be your sprikles and frosting . Your chubby blushing cheeks remind me of red velvet cake . Im **** sure what im saying is no mistake because you remind me of that kind of cupcake . Did anyone ever tell you that your sweeter than sugar before ?! Because if not than here I am telling you your sweeter than blood red jam . Now come on darling undo your shirt and let me take a bite out of your heart tonight ~

12

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 …

0

May 2, 2014

May 2, 2014 at 2:07 AM UTC

anastasia-webb

Give Me Your Inspiration

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 …

20

My soul's hot pink, like them bubble gum squares, cool, strawberry fizzy drinks, and a thick candy ice cream. Those warm, glazed over doughnuts, cupcakes with light sprinkles, jelly beans, tufts of cotton candy, and a tub of small macaroons. My soul's hot pink, like them candy hearts, sweet or **** chocolate coated easter eggs, lolipops, and sugar rocks. Those creamy cakes, fruity tastes, of gum drops, frozen pops, of sno-cones drizzled, cookie wafers, and sweet marshmallows; smoothies.

0

Oct 10, 2015

Oct 10, 2015 at 4:30 PM UTC

CautiousRain

Hot Pink Soul

My soul's hot pink, like them bubble gum squares, cool, strawberry fizzy drinks, and a thick candy ice cream. Those warm, glazed over doughnuts, cupcakes with light sprinkles, jelly beans, tufts of cotton candy, and a tub of small macaroons. My soul's hot pink, like them candy hearts, sweet or **** chocolate coated easter eggs, lolipops, and sugar rocks. Those creamy cakes, fruity tastes, of gum drops, frozen pops, of sno-cones drizzled, cookie wafers, and sweet marshmallows; smoothies.

16

Prom Time ~ Past... What an exciting time it was. High School Prom... It seems like we girls were More excited over this dance Then those boys.... Mom i need a dress, So mom would make me a dress. New fancy earrings... An evening made special For a Cinderella... oh we girls Were all in a make believe Cinderella daze...in 1958 Curfew 12a.m. don't be late Prom Time ~ Present... My grandson was ask to prom By a girl who baked him cupcakes That spelled out PROM? Very creative, who wouldn't Except that invitation.... Limo picking them up, Off to a restaurant, Followed by dancing and gabbing, And the after prom.... All night long, chaperones, snacks, games. Curfew ~ morning ... don't be late... 2014 The Prom was and is what you make it...A MEMORY by ~ judy

0

Apr 1, 2014

Apr 1, 2014 at 6:40 AM UTC

judypatooote

Prom time past and present...

Prom Time ~ Past... What an exciting time it was. High School Prom... It seems like we girls were More excited over this dance Then those boys.... Mom i need a dress, So mom would make me a dress. New fancy earrings... An evening made special For a Cinderella... oh we girls Were all in a make believe Cinderella daze...in 1958 Curfew 12a.m. don't be late Prom Time ~ Present... My grandson was ask to prom By a girl who baked him cupcakes That spelled out PROM? Very creative, who wouldn't Except that invitation.... Limo picking them up, Off to a restaurant, Followed by dancing and gabbing, And the after prom.... All night long, chaperones, snacks, games. Curfew ~ morning ... don't be late... 2014 The Prom was and is what you make it...A MEMORY by ~ judy

28

Life is like cupcakes and pizza, sometimes even when you think you've done it correctly with perfect measurement, accurate technique... Still sometimes it turns out to be hard and bad.. Then you'd realize its not about the perfect ingredients or the correct methods after all... its all coming from your heart... Your sincerity in doing things and making and living your life.. So that it'll be as soft and sweet as your cupcakes and as delicious as your mouth waterin pepperoni pizza..

0

Jun 15, 2014

Jun 15, 2014 at 1:56 PM UTC

sharina-saad

Life, cupcakes and pizza...

Life is like cupcakes and pizza, sometimes even when you think you've done it correctly with perfect measurement, accurate technique... Still sometimes it turns out to be hard and bad.. Then you'd realize its not about the perfect ingredients or the correct methods after all... its all coming from your heart... Your sincerity in doing things and making and living your life.. So that it'll be as soft and sweet as your cupcakes and as delicious as your mouth waterin pepperoni pizza..

15

I need you to write to me, to hide little poems for me. I need you to paint for me, to create little portraits for me. I need you to bake for me, to make little cupcakes for me. I need you to create for me, to give me little droplets of you. I need you to be my artist.

0

Jun 2, 2012

Jun 2, 2012 at 11:45 PM UTC

juniper-montgomery

Artistic

I need you to write to me, to hide little poems for me. I need you to paint for me, to create little portraits for me. I need you to bake for me, to make little cupcakes for me. I need you to create for me, to give me little droplets of you. I need you to be my artist.

13

sleep walking through you dead brain with a hard **** a man all pretense hiding behind your skirt who hurt you like a cold razor bleeding and who was hurt by you like a bullet in the chest your charms killer ray guns making me collapse from the inside out like a house in flames screaming left out of your dreams oh dread an empty shroud with a charred mouth who twisted your heart out a man with a winter corpse for a soul short ***** and dead tree eyes who ravaged your bones and ate your marrow with belligerence crushing your fragrant garden my feet pebbles and stones trampling your bed while you sped by me in your new man's muscle car sneering you a laughing hot ***** wearing cold silver sunglasses and flaming lips that ***** hearts blacktop down in a red fast car like a rocket with fat Dunlap's spewing mud in my mouth like me he looked at other women endlessly like rows of sprinkled cupcakes for the eating loving their form imagining their slick glide and wet kisses insulting your tenderness so you would believe in nothing until you where an endless black pit until i found out i needed you and it was to late for us your absence a lesson that your presence could never teach like snow in the summer in youth, i was a deadbeat somnambulist struggling with angels and hellions tedium and desire i feel remorse for all i have done and did not understand only now dusted white am i ready to love you so please come to me and we shall make a home of this tortured cage and turn it to heavens tremulous kiss i have finally learned my lesson have you ?

0

Mar 23, 2018

Mar 23, 2018 at 12:32 PM UTC

zebrablack

Somnambulist

sleep walking through you dead brain with a hard **** a man all pretense hiding behind your skirt who hurt you like a cold razor bleeding and who was hurt by you like a bullet in the chest your charms killer ray guns making me collapse from the inside out like a house in flames screaming left out of your dreams oh dread an empty shroud with a charred mouth who twisted your heart out a man with a winter corpse for a soul short ***** and dead tree eyes who ravaged your bones and ate your marrow with belligerence crushing your fragrant garden my feet pebbles and stones trampling your bed while you sped by me in your new man's muscle car sneering you a laughing hot ***** wearing cold silver sunglasses and flaming lips that ***** hearts blacktop down in a red fast car like a rocket with fat Dunlap's spewing mud in my mouth like me he looked at other women endlessly like rows of sprinkled cupcakes for the eating loving their form imagining their slick glide and wet kisses insulting your tenderness so you would believe in nothing until you where an endless black pit until i found out i needed you and it was to late for us your absence a lesson that your presence could never teach like snow in the summer in youth, i was a deadbeat somnambulist struggling with angels and hellions tedium and desire i feel remorse for all i have done and did not understand only now dusted white am i ready to love you so please come to me and we shall make a home of this tortured cage and turn it to heavens tremulous kiss i have finally learned my lesson have you ?

67

THIS is what love is. banana bubblegum and magnetic poetry the crickets on my front porch at three in the morning making origami cranes out of butcher paper even when I forget whether it's mountain fold or valley fold and my crane turns out looking like a seamonkey in a blender wildflowers! striped button-down shirts and plastic dinosaurs singing Juanes at the top of our lungs (Gah, you know I can't speak Spanish.) laughing at the serious parts in movies having the patience for when the words don't come out and I have to stop and think (for a very long time) and half the time it doesn't make sense anyway. impromptu dance sessions on the side of the road doors flung open, radio up chocolate chip pancakes out-of-town adventures mailboxes. LOTS. balcony raves with lots of glowsticks and let me borrow that top! just letting me sleeeeeeep the smell of new pointe shoes of New Orleans of bluebonnets telling me when I look awful (please) making me eat things that I don't like SNUGGLEBUNNY TIME drive-thru people who hate our guts That's What She Said's. praising Buddha naked dysfunctional kites paying in change at Chicken Express late night phone conversations when I sound drunk (but I'm not, I'm tired. I just would rather talk to you than sleep.) silence. cupcakes, uniform closets not shaving our legs in the winter shadow puppets, rap songs, Slumdog Millionaire making once-in-a-lifetime faces looks that speak oceans pecan pralines and symphony orchestras you'll never play with again but for that night you're family and you'll never forget it. matches (aren't always for candles) thousands upon thousands of candids and the not-so-candids saving kisses in your pocket for later Neverland, Disneyland, cats yellow dresses and stage make-up watermelon Jolly Ranchers saying my name like it's wrapped in blankets and knowing that even though I don't say it as much as I should: I do.

0

Apr 27, 2010

Apr 27, 2010 at 1:51 PM UTC

bailey-b

Love is.

THIS is what love is. banana bubblegum and magnetic poetry the crickets on my front porch at three in the morning making origami cranes out of butcher paper even when I forget whether it's mountain fold or valley fold and my crane turns out looking like a seamonkey in a blender wildflowers! striped button-down shirts and plastic dinosaurs singing Juanes at the top of our lungs (Gah, you know I can't speak Spanish.) laughing at the serious parts in movies having the patience for when the words don't come out and I have to stop and think (for a very long time) and half the time it doesn't make sense anyway. impromptu dance sessions on the side of the road doors flung open, radio up chocolate chip pancakes out-of-town adventures mailboxes. LOTS. balcony raves with lots of glowsticks and let me borrow that top! just letting me sleeeeeeep the smell of new pointe shoes of New Orleans of bluebonnets telling me when I look awful (please) making me eat things that I don't like SNUGGLEBUNNY TIME drive-thru people who hate our guts That's What She Said's. praising Buddha naked dysfunctional kites paying in change at Chicken Express late night phone conversations when I sound drunk (but I'm not, I'm tired. I just would rather talk to you than sleep.) silence. cupcakes, uniform closets not shaving our legs in the winter shadow puppets, rap songs, Slumdog Millionaire making once-in-a-lifetime faces looks that speak oceans pecan pralines and symphony orchestras you'll never play with again but for that night you're family and you'll never forget it. matches (aren't always for candles) thousands upon thousands of candids and the not-so-candids saving kisses in your pocket for later Neverland, Disneyland, cats yellow dresses and stage make-up watermelon Jolly Ranchers saying my name like it's wrapped in blankets and knowing that even though I don't say it as much as I should: I do.

67

Like drinking water out of mason jars Like reading through fake plastic glass Like dressing in your grandparents bolts of fabric Like holding an unfiltered cigarette Or even better a wooden pipe… Smoke swelling in closed mouths And nostrils blowing in sailboat clouds Down to the next not- Starbucks To sit on a velvet couch with Coral painted nails and a chai in hand... You all can be like this. With no workout clothes and With at least two piercings in your nose You all are like this soon enough. Who gave you the idea to pick up the Ukulele anyway? Who gave you the idea to shave one quarter Of your head? We all did. We all are a Fleet of individual sameness, A want to stand out from the Cookie- cutter looks, But now we’re all cupcakes With the same story but with Different hooks For hands, snagging the rest Of us along. With your identical twin lipstick And Birkenstock feet. The lack of shock we absorb Gets lonely and depressing. So lets all move to Montreal And French kiss and knit And maybe real soon the Croissants will go stale And it’ll be cool to live In Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan.

0

Feb 7, 2013

Feb 7, 2013 at 6:35 PM UTC

r-e-sadowski

To Be Like You is...

Like drinking water out of mason jars Like reading through fake plastic glass Like dressing in your grandparents bolts of fabric Like holding an unfiltered cigarette Or even better a wooden pipe… Smoke swelling in closed mouths And nostrils blowing in sailboat clouds Down to the next not- Starbucks To sit on a velvet couch with Coral painted nails and a chai in hand... You all can be like this. With no workout clothes and With at least two piercings in your nose You all are like this soon enough. Who gave you the idea to pick up the Ukulele anyway? Who gave you the idea to shave one quarter Of your head? We all did. We all are a Fleet of individual sameness, A want to stand out from the Cookie- cutter looks, But now we’re all cupcakes With the same story but with Different hooks For hands, snagging the rest Of us along. With your identical twin lipstick And Birkenstock feet. The lack of shock we absorb Gets lonely and depressing. So lets all move to Montreal And French kiss and knit And maybe real soon the Croissants will go stale And it’ll be cool to live In Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan.

37