This is neither poetry, nor art,
It is not an ending or a start,
but in all sincerity, says I,
"May I have a slice of apple pie?"
"Indeed, you may have your apple pie,
It is not a case of do or die.
It's a simple fruit filled pastry,
thought by many to be tasty."
"As the pie, I beg your attention.
There's something I would like to mention.
I have steaming apples in my crust,
but don't eat me...well if you must."
I emit a happy sigh
when I think of apple pie.
I pray to angels, above, on high
for an abundant supply,
and that its aroma may amplify
glorious apple pie.
Bushels of apples are in tubs and bins all over the place
A variety of kinds, yellows, reds, none a disgrace
We cut out the bad spots and turn them into pie
Fresh applesauce smells make the harvest men sigh
Let’s make some cobbler says Gran as she rolls out the dough
She sprinkles it with sugar and love, making it just so.
I ask if I can fork the top and she says “I cannot see why not”.
But after a few piercings she yells out “now, stop!”
Apple cider is made along with apple butter for Gramps.
He brings home some farm workers, some of them look like tramps.
They use polite words and say “thank you” again and again.
Some leave with an extra piece of pie, wearing a great big grin.
Thus, we clean up after the tryptophan tornado
Slow moving, drugged, sated, slipper wearing zombies
Picking at the ruins of fun, feast and folly
Wondering why the soon to come fat guy is so jolly
Pants – let out – for comfort sake
A slumbering room of football fakes
And then that scent, of my, oh my
The warmth, the call, of apple pie
I know it’s wrong, this pie I’m stuffin’
Will turn an epicure into a glutton
As the leaves drift slow to the earth
I must give my girth its worth.
Picnic tables,
dishes labeled,
all red, white and blue.
Grass in the shade,
blankets are laid,
keeping babies cool.
Cold beer on ice,
lemonade's nice,
or some sweet tea too.
The chicken's fried,
the apple's pied,
which dessert to choose.
Children happy,
old folks napping,
teens are at the pool.
Bats are swinging,
horseshoes ringing,
maybe just a few.
Babies crying,
old men lying,
how they always do.
I'll catch up on,
things going on,
gossiping with you.
It's time to leave,
but I won't grieve,
I know it is true.
No need to fear,
cause come next year,
we'll be back in June.
hello apple pie
with whipped cream i cannot lie
pure perfect silence is like saying 'mmmm' on high
she kisses me again because the quiet of the vibe is flavorful
she smiles me sweetly because the center of my respect in her eyes is favorful
powdered sugar is requested
the intended cream is bested
the river of surety is manifested
she blesses me with a gifted turn
i am so relieved that the overall warmth does not burn
this particular love she does not give, but i earn
the apple pie is forgotten
the focus is comfortably changed like soft cotton
we renew a revisioned, renewed ripeness once fully rotten
No one should peek through the windows of my mind.. some horrors from my past I find them hard to leave behind.. maybe this life only holds wasted time.. like a hourglass with the devil's design.. these thoughts are like blood leaking on this paper.. so they come out smeared then disappear like vapors.. I think I'm done asking God for favors.. probably don't deserve them never broke through my layers.. self mutilation but all mine mental.. just trying to be loved but lack the credentials. smiling wide they still bypass the dimples.. this can't be life I think mine is a rental.. like it's snowing on me on the fourth of July.. so cold froze my tear ducts couldn't even cry.. death won't even come near this only I know why.. it's feeds on misery and I'm apple pie..
Blue Plate Special
David J Walker
Why is it I never
Eat as well when
You’re not here
Even though I am the one
The lone man at home
Doing the cooking for no one
When I know that you’re not looking
A chicken fried steak
Might find its way
Into the hot grease
of my frying pan
And there may be
Peppery country gravy
To go with the
Buttery mashed potatoes
And Italian green beans
And a brown and serve roll
On my blue plate special
And by the way
I would die for
a slice of your
Apple pie about now
Come home baby
Before the blue plate special
Isn’t special anymore
What? Did Mom get the recipe from heaven's skies?
Fresh apples from Eden, butter from angels!
Sugars from saints, without any weird taste!
Then she would make a giant, huge bowl of fresh-
whipped cream.
We'd always wash our little, hands first.
Then, and only then, would we indulge,
In her whipped cream, angelic sensation.
5/5/2021
~4~
What can I say about this dessert's originations?
Countless recipes have been passed down through generations.
Many consider it the All-American treat.
Freshly-picked apples from the tree that are sweet;
a flaky crust, some spice and sugar make it complete.
Get a slice when it is fresh from the oven.
Once you taste it, you have some gastronomic lovin'.
Patience,
Don't be greedy this is a 4 course meal save some of your appetite for desert trust me you will not be disappointed
It's the sweetest and most moist
of apple pie for you to eat from in to out
A recipe baked from right off the pages
of the feminine grand witches cookbook of seductive spells
It's
In part beatle bonnet
part butterfly
part eot of lemac
part pussycat
That comes delivered with a side of sticky fingers and lashings of my very own custard cream squirted right on
top
It's so darn sexy and moorish quite frankly i'd be
astonished if you don't ask for a 2nd or 3rd
helping
And ask if you can take the rest home
so you can have it for breakfast in bed in the
morning all over again
Do I love my life
You can sure betcha I do
More than apple pie
apple pie for breakfast. Dessert is whipping cream.
Fine chocolate scones with raisins plainly seen.
Extra sweet white icing on my two cinnamon rolls.
Diabetes? Me? Well I guess this is how it goes.
When Adam and Eve
Set up house down in Eden
With do-it-yourself
They had no time for breedin
Expansion was slow
Hardly bothered to try
But took off when Eve baked up
That first apple pie
8 December 2019
Buddy Holly's
band had a
fifth member
a cricket
so as far
as beetles go
the Beatles had
George Martin
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