Best Baked Poems
Well, my momma -bless her soul - she brought me up good.
She taught me all she knew and she taught me what she should,
She took me to a church and she made me knock on wood.
Still, Honey, I’m a half-baked sinner.
‘Cause I’m sittin’ here and thinkin’ that you’re look’in mighty fine.
You set my heart to pound’in and I’d like to make you mine.
But I’m such a careful gal though I walk a thin line,
Yeah, Honey, I’m a half-baked sinner.
Chorus:
Oh, a half-baked sinner; that’s all I am.
Stuck here in the middle of “Nowhere Land.”
A half-baked sinner, I’m God’s little joke,
but I still have my spirit ‘cause I’m only half-broke!
Well, I’m contemplatin’ things with you I’m not supposed to do.
If I’m halfway to Hell, they’ll put me all the way through!
But I’m only HALF-stupid - unlucky for you!
Yes, Honey, I’m a half-baked sinner.
Yes, I know you’ve got your pride, but listen, so do I.
I might not tell the truth, but I sure don’t tell no lie!
And I never will give in, for if you ask me why,
It’s because I’m just a half-baked sinner.
Repeat Chorus:
Oh, a half-baked sinner; that’s all I am.
Stuck here in the middle of “Nowhere Land.”
A half-baked sinner, I’m God’s little joke
but I still have my spirit ‘cause I’m only half-broke!
(my lyrics for a country song, but with no music yet.)
Well, my momma -bless her soul - she brought me up good.
She taught me all she knew and she taught me what she should,
She took me to a church and she made me knock on wood.
Still, Honey, I’m a half-baked sinner.
‘Cause I’m sittin’ here and thinkin’ that you’re look’in mighty fine.
You set my heart to pound’in and I’d like to make you mine.
But I’m such a careful gal though I walk a thin line,
Yeah, Honey, I’m a half-baked sinner.
Chorus:
Oh, a half-baked sinner; that’s all I am.
Stuck here in the middle of “Nowhere Land.”
A half-baked sinner, I’m God’s little joke,
but I still have my spirit ‘cause I’m only half-broke!
Well, I’m contemplatin’ things with you I’m not supposed to do.
If I’m halfway to Hell, they’ll put me all the way through!
But I’m only HALF-stupid - unlucky for you!
Yes, Honey, I’m a half-baked sinner.
Yes, I know you’ve got your pride, but listen, so do I.
I might not tell the truth, but I sure don’t tell no lie!
And I never will give in, for if you ask me why,
It’s because I’m just a half-baked sinner.
Repeat Chorus:
Oh, a half-baked sinner; that’s all I am.
Stuck here in the middle of “Nowhere Land.”
A half-baked sinner, I’m God’s little joke
but I still have my spirit ‘cause I’m only half-broke!
Boxes and boxes of lovely soft creams,
ready to be loaded on our ship of dreams.
Chocolate cream pies, and chocolate E'clairs,
lemon filled donuts, and Jelly cream bars.
Oodles and oodles of illicit delights,
watching my hips grow out of sight.
i shan't resist, some coconut cream pies,
bulging above my double sized thighs.
With my mouth watering I sit and stare,
at all these wonderful home baked wares.
Give me fortitude, squeezed out with a tear,
need some treats? Help yourself my dear.
When over fed, I am finding to my ilk,
groaning, I need more cookies and milk.
A situation I should not have begun,
encourages a visit to the dietitian.
I love to reminisce about great Aunt Mattie.
Her home perched atop of an old barber shop;
a barber pole below her apartment told my young eyes
that we’d arrived at her place.
Her tiny space, smelled of a million confections and
um, lilacs; house a plethora of oriental treasures;
stories fed my wild imagination.
She worked as a nurse but, she was born with a baker’s soul and
she should have had her own bakery.
The old candy cane pole was so appropriate;
revealed her subconscious desires.
I believed her canary sang so well;
of sweet scents wafting silently throughout the rooms;
he was so blessed to reside there inhaling the,
buttery chocolate and caramel bliss.
I was blessed to visit and savor them as
I perused her, “what knots”;
the Chinese dragons and lions who shared her home,
her brass dragon gong, now lives with me;
it still sings of her creations;
each time that I awaken it and my palate joins the song,
as I travel once again through, “what knot”, stories; breathing in butterscotch, cocoa and lilac memories.
Promised a honey baked life by Uncle Sam,
a V.A. loan, and a mini-van.
Three kids and a fenced yard.
It should be attainable to those who
worked so hard.
They served, they sacrificed as mother's wept,
came home to be forgotten to a government
that's inept..
Our unsung hero's who fought gallantly, are
supposed to be our nations first priority..
. Did you know that there is a place we can go
Enjoy some soup, Poetry Soup that is I love it so
All kinds of ingredients go into the pot to cook,
You don’t believe me? Right now just take a look
There is wonderful poetry some of it you can write
Places to learn about, so many that are out of sight
There's art from the classics see how many you spot
Stories are fun to read, some in rhyme, some not
All the forms of poetry, some short, some are long
All will tell you about your poetry what is strong
Competitions to enter so welcome right along
You can write short stories if you are inclined
Just sit back read great poems, to unwind
Important ingredient still one more
It will be your favorite I am sure
The one you come back for
It’s the friends you make
Combine it no mistake
Mix it with friendship, to bake
Bake slowly til tender and easy eaten
Take a big taste your life will sweeten
Home Baked Bread
The aroma of manna’s heavenly scent.
By: Emile Pinet
Poverty Slop and
jowls of ground beef.
Saliva to corn
that's creamed to belief.
Mashed silk potatoes
spread over the tongue
sealing meat in
to covered and mung.
Tin pan the Shepherd.
A pie sitting heavy.
A feast for a King
and the bowels of a levy.
Full potted tummy.
A growling way down.
Back taste of kernels.
A hunger been drown.
Baked Shepherd's Pie
asleep in the oven.
Morning to eyes
like those of the sloven.
a bowl of baked beans
a stack of baby back ribs
with corn on the cob!
baked potato soup
with mounds of melted cheddar
surely hits the spot!
When I get Naked and Baked I spend a great deal of time
wondering why the hell those two words don't rhyme.
Apples baked
Create delicious
Edible food,
Gracious heaven
Intervenes joy,
Knowing luscious
Moistness,
Never overpowering,
Plain quenching
Richness,
Surrendering to
Undeniable visions,
While Xeroxing,
Youthful zeal
Birds baked in pies, babies rocked out of trees
Kids all falling down from some dreadful disease
Young Hansel and Gretel
May wind up in a kettle
What tormented minds write stories like these?
12/4/22
Salmon marinated in
terriaki sauce
Sauted, and then baked fully
with vegetables
serve over white rice,
Delicious
Yea!
Baked beans, baked beans
Boiling away on the stove,
Baked beans, baked beans
Butts turn into gas machines.
Baked beans, baked beans
All pants need to be rewove,
Baked beans, baked beans
Hard to keep, the undies clean.
Baked beans, baked beans
People run away in droves,
Baked beans, baked beans
Wait in line, for the latrine.
Copyright Cynthia Jones
June.21/2006
I figured I would try coming up with a style of my own. ;o)