"icing" poems
You can’t have your cake and eat it too. Not for long, anyway. Cake doesn’t settle well when it’s all you’ve had to eat. It’ll churn like butter inside you, and creep up your throat to project like a cannon, barreling through a wall. Cake won’t sit right with you anymore. At the mere mention of cake, your insides will crawl with disgust and an association of icing will replace your taste buds with ***** You will never be able to enjoy cake—at parties, as a delicacy, with ice cream—because you got greedy and wanted to eat your cake first rather than save it for such an occasion. Now all the different kinds of cake you fantasized about trying—black velvet, coffee cake, buttercream pound cake—will only be a reminder of your pitfall that led you to make yourself sick with desire, for cake. You can’t get the icing off your tongue, the smell of batter baking has festered in your nostrils wired to the pungent taste of red from between your teeth. But it’s all you can think of when you’ve been wronged by your favorite dessert. What sort of chemical reaction in the bowels of your stomach caused all of this sorrow? What rejected the cake? Your body has a way of telling you things—we should listen more. Cake is not sustenance, it has no value as a nutritious food. It doesn’t help, only hurts.
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 2:11 AM UTC
My confusion troubles me
My wondering depresses me
And my knowledge grows heavily
And the icing on that cake is everything I hate about me
Jul 13, 2014
Jul 13, 2014 at 5:43 PM UTC
it's time for christmas baking
whether you know how to or not
the thing you must remember
is that the oven gets quite hot
it's not that i'm an imbesile
or that my mind is set on slow
there's things 'bout christmas baking
that everyone should know
turning up the temperature
will not make things bake much quicker
and you'll never get your baking done
if you start hitting the liquor
liquor helps but not that way
it's for the the recipe...not you
because the first drink goes down smooth
it always tastes like two
my icing stuck to everything
it even melted on my cat
the dog thought fluffy was his treat
and that my friends was that
metal in the microwave
makes great sparks but doesn't cook
in fact it's quite explosive
if you take the time to look
peanut butter rollups
are easy and look cool
but with so many kids allergic
you can't sell them at the school
the best way to do baking
is to buy them from the store
put them on a plate you own
and don't say any more
if people want the recipe
say it's secret, you can't tell
you're granny took it to her grave
besides, they all do this as well
take my advice on baking
don't bake if you can buy
because you'll never get it perfect
no matter how you try.
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 1:37 PM UTC
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. . .
Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 11:59 AM UTC
JANUARY
Delightful display
Snowdrops bowing pure white heads
To the sun’s glory.
FEBRUARY
Fresh green buds appear
Indicating spring will soon
Energise us all.
MARCH
Lambs gambol in fields
Frisky with the joys of life
Bleating happily.
APRIL
Bluebells stand so proud
Beneath trees now sparsely dressed
Fresh green leaves unfold.
MAY
Much awaited sound
Echoes heard amid dense trees
Cuckoo has arrived.
JUNE
Parks and gardens burst
With sounds and vibrant colours
Perfect harmony.
JULY
Beaches become full
Of families having fun
In sand and big waves.
AUGUST
Ripe golden harvest
Burning sun in azure skies
Labours rewarded.
SEPTEMBER
Swallows congregate
On telephone wires ready
To migrate down south.
OCTOBER
Red and gold leaves fall,
Crunchy as cornflakes beneath
Feet on a crisp morn.
NOVEMBER
Frosty webs sparkle
In the early morning sun
Brightly bejewelled.
DECEMBER
First few flakes of snow
Dust gardens like icing on
A chocolate cake.
Jan 18, 2012
Jan 18, 2012 at 12:44 PM UTC
say goodbye to the bucolic summer
the rafts of winter are upon the banks of your desire
please placate the wild streets of abandonment
let the edges of your neediness
take you into independence
i am less dense than a fly
and more round than the sky
i am a shade too dry for some people's liking
are you wanting a more permanent vacation
the icing on the cake is the real equation
immediate desires all forsaken
our love is worth practicing non-anticipation for
if you kiss me now i’ll be forever liberated
if you show me how
i’ll take you to the 9th dimension
seventeen floors above the world
and we are standing on
an indefinite embankment
i am intimidated by your perspicacity
as the persimmon sun sets upon the horizon
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 3:01 PM UTC
trip up the island to see all the folk
monopoly, pong => pig 'n a poke
crystalline glass with dark bitter ale
Santa is looking a little bit pale
cherry red cheeks from a chilled chardonnay
one sailing wait for the talk of the day
drum sticks and dressing are the pick of the bird
chestnuts and brandy for gravy being stirred
brussels and taters are pulled from the bake
pears in the salad bring memories of Jake
sparks from the fire with rich amber glow
grey hair and wrinkles will come...don't you know?
gingerbread man with a white icing smile
candy cane schnapps (with its seasonal style!)
pine cones and tinsel that cover the tree
carols are humming from churches and streets
cold winter nights are the best of the year
chocolate and eggnog await with good cheer
a heavy thick fog approaches the sound
the comforts of Christmas, with joy all around!
Dec 10, 2017
Dec 10, 2017 at 9:48 PM UTC
There is a cake.
There is a beautiful, rounded
Vanilla swiss buttercream well-iced cake
That they gave to you.
This cake makes me miss you
Makes me miss running my fingers
Throughout your hair
And gently pressing my own soft lips
To yours, Instead of your lips pressing
this stupid cake.
And I know that you love it.
And I know that if you do not have
every ounce
You will starve.
I was jealous of this cake, I admit
Jealous indeed of the shiny new replacement
They gave for you for my love
It made you feel good inside and out, as well
Enriched your brain, and your appetite
I was jealous and stole a slice in spite of you.
Then I realized, that you love this cake
You have waited for this cake, every year
Every birthday
Hoping for the envelope informing you
That the time for cake was now
That the cake WAS your time, now, and that
All of you was invested, in this succulent dessert
And you needed to keep as much as you could,
for your sake,
I came to accept the fact, that you needed so.
But like your hair, I brush this cake
with the tips of my fingers, I taste this cake
I understand the sweetness you enjoy
and the sanctity of it being left alone
But if I dare to kiss this cake
because I adore the things you care about so much
and some icing comes onto my lips
Have I stolen something from you?
Nov 5, 2011
Nov 5, 2011 at 2:45 PM UTC
You are the love of my life, my everything
This is how I feel deep inside.
Without you my life would be incomplete
My whole being is so full of pride.
I have joy rushing around my soul
Laughter lives in my blood stream
There is a sense of hope deep within me
You are my strawberries and cream.
You are the perfect cup of tea
The perfect topping on my cupcake
You open floodgates letting love rush in
Without you, well my heart would ache.
I love you more than thee are grains of sand
stars in our sky. impossible to measure.
You are my cherry on top of the icing
You are the perfect golden treasure.
Each time you go I worry begging you back
Each time you leave me my eyes weep tears
I catch each salty reminder that you've gone
They are tiny, damp but they are souvenirs.
I have inside of me love which will not die
a pump that will refuse to lose its tick - my heart
This heart could not possibly hold more love
It is jam packed, it is a complex body part.
For all of these reasons, you are my everything
Without you my body would crumble with pains
My skin would wither, my blood dry in its tracks
Without you I woud have empty veins.
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 11:06 PM UTC
Cake, the meat of culinary delights;
Icing, the sauce.
Cake, the main entree, the special of the night;
Icing, the decorative garnish.
Without Cake, Icing has no purpose
A clump, a blob, of meaningless goop.
1 spoonful of Icing alone and you're done.
Spread out amongst the firm surface of Cake though,
Icing becomes much more interesting, and much more fun.
I am the Cake.
You are the Icing.
Without me, the base, the entree, the meat
You, the sauce, the garnish and blob, don't matter
You can be the Icing to your own Cake or to another
But without me, you'll do nothing but rot teeth and smother
So, to enjoy you, Icing, to the absolute fullest
I must, first, combine the ingredients, stir and bake
Because it is vital, if one is to appreciate your sweet taste,
To properly prepare my foundation, the meat, your Cake.
- BPW
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 4:22 PM UTC
artificial feelings stuffed in a room
dangerous proximity could finalize doom
deprivation brings about illogical thoughts
then it happens, and my hearts in knots
side effects may include waking in cold sweat
followed by hot flashes of regret
but
it seems like whenever the icing's enticing,
i can't help but take the cake.
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 9:39 PM UTC
Beards
Life is a bakery ;
And men are the cakes in that bakery.
In that same bakery,
beards are frosting.
You know what cakes without icing are called in the
bakery of life?
Boring.
Nov 27, 2015
Nov 27, 2015 at 11:56 AM UTC
You're beautiful,
Yes, you are, undoubtedly.
But the way you smile-
It's the icing on the cake!
And it's indispensable.
Neither you can live without that perfect smile,
Nor I can imagine any light of day or dark of night without it,
Let alone traveling a mile without thinking of your smile.
Jan 21, 2016
Jan 21, 2016 at 11:04 AM UTC
They say marriage is all about compromise. If that's the case, newlyweds Kia Parsons and Billy Bunning are off to an excellent start.
The UK couple had different visions when it came to their wedding cake; the bride wanted an all-white tiered cake with cascading sugar flowers. The groom, on the other hand, wanted to incorporate his love of comic book superheroes into the confection. So they met somewhere in the middle:
Julia Baker of Tier by Tier cake design created the cake for the couple's August 14 wedding in Milton Keynes, England. One side is the traditional-looking cake the bride wanted. On the other side, icing curtains reveal the logos of Marvel characters Captain America, Spider-Man and Iron Man, as well as Batman from the DC Comics camp.
"I loved every minute making this cake, as I knew it would be something that people would be surprised at and appeal to all the Marvel fans!" Julia told The Huffington Post.
In all, she spent 40 hours on the cake. It took 12 hours to make the sugar flowers, and the cake-baking and building took about 28 hours.
Needless to say, Kia and Billy were thrilled with the finished product.
"Julia did such a fantastic job and we were completely overwhelmed by how brilliant it looked!" the bride told HuffPost. "From most angles of the room, the cake looked like a traditional wedding cake -- just what we had wanted. It wasn't until the cake was moved for us to cut that our guests realized there was a hidden extra. Some didn't even realize until the photos went online after the wedding!"
On Tuesday, a photo of the cake began going viral when it was shared by the Life Of Dad Facebook page.
"I was surprised at how popular it was and how quickly the pictures circulated on social media," Julia said. "I have plenty more ideas to work on and I am calling these 'double-take cakes.'"
read more:www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-perth
www.marieaustralia.com/white-formal-dresses
Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 11:16 PM UTC
I contemplate
I buy it on aromatic instinct
The fight emerges
Don't eat it!
You're not even hungry!
I sit in my head
While the words debate
The palate ultimately wins
My hands follow orders
The sweet melting chew
Savory icing
Made for my mouth
I close my eyes
Taste buds dance
Pure enjoyment
A moment has escaped me
In my candy land
Until it's gone
A guilty pleasure
Plagued stomach
Churning to
Disappointed intestines
An alien
They don't quite understand
As it has no nutrients or vitamins to absorb
Sending the lipids and sugars
Away to live as fat
Surrounding areas I dislike most
I look in the mirror
And I imagine where that regretful donut went.
© Jl 2016
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 6:16 AM UTC
You sugar-coat our future
With a cotton-candy kiss;
A sweet slip of tongue,
A chocolate press of lips
Your eyes yield a bittersweet gleam,
Your hair, tangled with icing grease,
But things are never what they seem,
Everything must go, all things must cease
My dear, your love is sweeter than all things sweet,
Your touch softer than all things soft,
I feel high on sugar when our lips meet,
But to a sugar low we are opt.
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 5:24 PM UTC
He awoke.
His eyes opened slowly with a purposeful slowness; an action that for most people is the beginning of their life was, for him, a procrastination.
He arose.
The floor felt cold, unwelcoming as he stumbled reluctantly to the sink. The bristles rasped against his teeth, gums bleeding out of spite.
He entered.
Breakfast—a lonely egg, boring toast—entered his body; each bite was scooped with the utilitarian vigor of one who is no longer enchanted by food, yet the relationship must continue: a compulsory marriage without option for divorce. This discomfort washed down with lemon-water.
He contemplated.
Thoughts, those musings that are feared, condemned by most and yet became the greatest of comforts for him, reminded him that one day it all would end and he would be free.
He wasted.
He stretched out his hands, offering up his life force in the daily sacrifice to the eager god that, in return, lit up with the brightness of a thousand stars that blinded him from all that he wished not to see.
He showered.
Cold water ran down his soul, icing the most superficial inflammations while taunting the deepest wounds; no matter how long he remained behind the curtain, there would be no true respite.
He returned.
The blackness beckoned. He entered willingly, surrendering himself to the dark embrace of that demonic respite, his beloved above all others.
He died, once again.
Dec 28, 2018
Dec 28, 2018 at 3:28 AM UTC
Brownies,
more brownies,
never can have enough.
Dont you dare ruin my brownies
with peacans or walnuts.
Chocolate goodness in handheld bites.
A brownie filled brownie,
sounds so right.
No icing, no extras,
Just chocolate times ten!
If you have had a today brownies,
then your day is a win.
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 3:25 AM UTC
As winter dawns,
United they come,
All at once
Coating the ground
With a perfect layer
Of feathery icing sugar.
Tickling our necks
As they swirl around us
They flutter in the wind
Like graceful butterflies
Thrilled to be free at last.
A simple exterior,
But as we dig deeper
We discover
That on the inside it seems,
Like a spider has woven in each one
The most intricate of patterns
All unique individuals
Different and proud
Like dust from the stars
They glisten in the moonlight
fragile diamonds
That melt at your touch
Thus we can say,
That snowflakes are,
A symbol of purity
Like innocent childlren
To be destroyed by reality.
They put us to sleep,
Singing hushed melodies
As they pass by
Like floating feathers,
Following the wind
In our eyelashes
When we blink
Serene and untouched
Falling from the heavens
God’s children
Blessing the earth.
Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 6:05 PM UTC
You Sir, Are An Electrician!
**technocrat
— noun
a proponent, adherent, or supporter of technocracy.**
This city boy was expert at
Turning the lights on,
Unlocking the front door,
Putting new batteries in flashlights,
And calling the handyman to
"Please come upstairs"
When the degree of diving difficulty was a
Positive number.
Also,
Freezing the semi-permanently the DVR,
Triggering alarms,
Killing car batteries,
Making laptops question
Human sanity,
Tearing up when reading,
"Some Assembly Required!"
Raised in a city of experts,
He was unskilled in things electric,
Becoming apoplectic,
When a device had an
On/off switch that ignored him.
Somewhat famous he was,
For engaging the inanimate,
In a verbal dialectic,
Which included words highly phonetic,
But unsuitable for children's ears.
She was raised in rural pastures,
Corn fields used for hide n' go seek,
Riding goats after school
Just for fun,
Familiar with innards of
Deus ex machina, a/k/a
Minor engine repairs, and
Doing what he called,
Making reparations.
IOS7, heaven.
Cabling laptop to external devices,
Icing on the cake,
Dis and reassembling a German coffee maker,
Did not require calling an 800 number.
She never read an instruction sheet
Without pleasurable laughing at
Japanese English.
He was unashamed of his skilled
Unskilled characteristics,
For such is the way of the world
In the human kingdom,
Some of us two handed,
some of us, bi-standers.
But upon occasion,
He would bemoan his fate,
Decry his inability to survive
On a post-apocalyptic Earth,
Like the people on tv and movies.
Periodically he would grow morose,
Listless, at his inability to adapt to a
Point Oh world.
Uncomprehending
Icons and symbols whose meaning
Were wholly unintuitive,
He secretly ashamed of his need for
technological ******
She would sense his frustration,
Wipe away his inner condensation,
Climbing into his lap,
Whispering the following:
**You sir, are an electrician
of words, a verbal technocrat,**
Plumber of the depths where
Few fear to tread, explorer of the head,
Restorer of human paintings unmatched,
Without your ilk,
this world would be unbearable,
Your heart's warming silk
Comforts bodies and souls,
Speaking from experience personal.
Then, she flicked his
On/Off switch,
On.
Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 2:43 AM UTC
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.
Oct 19, 2011
Oct 19, 2011 at 3:55 PM UTC
Hey there sunshine ray,
Time to wake up and come out & play
Break thru the tiny cracks of a shattered old window
& illuminate where all darkness resides
Brush away all the gray, and the pain of yesterday
Warm the rosy cheeks of the cold sleepy faces
Drop like raindrops,
not leaving a single place
untouched.
Hey there sparkle glow
Shine wide and bright & remind those,
eyes filled with tears of loneliness
of hope.
Transform the plain morning into golden kissed flames
Fill the bubblegum blue sky with tiny bended rays of sunlight
Sunshine, sunlight, pierce the veil
&
Drown away the worries of the night
Fill the day with your crystal clear lemonish’cream’vanilla’icing.
Skip thru the puddles and tickle the sides of those who forget they could laugh over the small little things.
Hey there sunshine ray,
let your droplets of orange orange crimson sparks……
Spark and radiate and **** throughout the air of tiny million atoms filling the world with sunkissed stars,
Rain and flood all corners of the earth
Paint the flying dust specs swirling in the wind and grains of sand
Dazzle the view of the silent watching patient ones
Turn the leaves from green to emerald
and flowers to rainbow dancing peakcocks swaying in the breeze
Hush the world under a spell
with your droplets of sunshine.
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 1:21 AM UTC
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.
Aug 13, 2011
Aug 13, 2011 at 10:32 AM UTC