Best Cocoa Poems
It’s been a while since the Christmas of my youth.
Some things it seems have gone away -
Cookie cutters, hot cocoa, and an angel
are three not with me today.
Yes, Mama would get her cookie cutters out
How I loved to help make the dough.
We’d bake, then frost them, but these days,
everyone’s too much on the go!
People just go buy sweets at the grocery store.
Even hot cocoa’s instant too.
What happened to its simmering on the stove?
Microwaving is all we do!
What happened to giving out homemade cookies
as we caroled from door to door,
then having cocoa with melted marshmallows
floating on top like I adore?
And last of all, what happened to the angel
who orchestrated all of this?
My mother, once so young and filled with vigor.
Oh, how I miss my Christmas bliss!
Dec. 5, 2017 for Kim Rodrigues' Christmas Rhyme Contest
COOKIE CUTTERS, HOT COCOA, AND AN ANGEL
When I was small, with curly hair
Mama would pull up a dining chair
She'd stand me there beside her
As she rolled out cookie dough
And gently guide me through the steps
For the cookies she would bake
Letting me use the cookie cutters
Carefully, for goodness sake
We'd sip on a cup of hot cocoa
While making cookies by the dozen
Place them on the cookie sheet
Then into the oven
The Angel atop the Christmas Tree
Standing out in the hall
Seemed to be smiling down at me
A memory I still recall
Yes, cookie cutters, hot cocoa, and Angels
Are still a part of me
Mama's gone, but they live on
Each Christmas that comes to be
26 November 2017 - for contest sponsored by Kim Rodrigues
calm, captivating
chivalrous, compassionate
colorful, caring
10/5/2020
4pm PST
Hot cocoa is my beverage of choice.
To it's deliciousness I must give voice.
On a cold winter's night
There's no greater delight.
It makes my taste buds stand up and rejoice!
Written by Kim Merryman 10/22/2011
For Francine Roberts "Pick a Beverage, any beverage" contest.
The wind chills the earth
and i am chilled to the bone
in the winter sun
the weather was below zero
all the windows covered in snow
the year was nineteen sixty three
everyone gathered around in wait for me
mom's belly was full and oh so tight
small cousins peeked pushed and began to fight
an aunt said you kids please leave the room
mom's face was scared and full of gloom
she knew this baby would be born at home
the entire family were there she wasn't alone
towels and blankets all at her feet
she turned on her knees and pushed me on a sheet
with no where to go in all of this snow
proud dad passed out cups of hot cocoa
the cocoa was sweet a light shade of brown
people gathered outside from all over town
dad looked at my skin and came up with a name
everyone laughed he said this is not a game
she's so sweet skin so brown i already know
that my new daughter's name is now cocoa
Written 1999 Tampa bay Montel Williams poetry contest
I made hot cocoa
I told mother I made tea
This; and other lies
cocoa brown acorns
wait patiently chortling...
whoops man down
Cocoa. Hot chocolate is so..............your skin.
Bred with vanilla. Sired kids' colors in between. Broad spectrum of brown.
Vanilla to pecan. Conversations between colorstruck year round.
Family gatherings often joyous. The food is delicious. Events supreme extravagance.
Cocoa. Hot chocolate. Milk and sugar. So dark. Flesh. Not a drink. Sip.
Saint Valentine, supposed,
ushering forth with love;
your tender anniversary with a whip.
A chocolate kiss, with calloused hands,
assembled;
vacant, listless eyes without;
...neither seeing nor feeling love.
Every drop of corn syrup, unfed,
corpulent and fetished;
whose essence lingers 'pon the lips.
Every drop of ebony perfum, 'pon breath;
staining the love of virtue and couplehood;
staining the ignorance and denial;
whose fingerprints of a child
seep through every morsel you ingest.
You ingest pain, you ingest fear,
you ingest exploitation
and you ask for more.
You call it love but is it?
- Another reminder that the chocolate you eat or give out as gifts on this worthless
holiday has most likely been farmed and harvested by children working on a pittance and in
harsh exploitative conditions.
Every penny you spend enables this torturous exploitation to continue.
I guess it’s not a giant revelation to most people when I say we are all
So many different things at once. Constantly changing but remaining the same,
As we do this metamorphosis, we travel along in this invisible cocoon .
Clumsy and blinded by our own shell.
We wonder into each other.
Crashing into each other.
In love we force reconigniton of ourselves onto there self.
Loving the interpretation of energy that they are today not twenty years ago or twenty
years from now.
Most of the time we don’t see our true selves, In each other or inward,
We just see the dream of our own fairytales..
Not ready for the sobering mare of our reality
In love we must remember that we are all just great big old piles of triumph and
tragedy
Mostly tragedy, Scared, looking for that person to act as our cocoa butter .
Making those scares fade away
I thought I saw Santa flying and landing right on my roof
Then someone said, it can’t be true, so I needed proof
He was there, I swear, then suddenly he went ‘poof’
Even my dog saw him as she ran to the window, woof!
All I could see when I looked then, was a red dot in the sky
Someone asked, what was in my egg nog, I asked why?
Because that night, it wasn’t Christmas time just yet
So then I replied, and made with them a kind of bet
I said, he was just scoping the area, he will be back
Sure enough on Christmas Eve, he returned with a sack
He was standing right in the middle of the town square
They even yanked on his beard assuming fake, he did wear
But it was real, just as he was, with all of his sweet care
Sharing cookies with cookie cutters and warm hot cocoa
While an angel in the night, hovered above in falling snow
Heidi Sands
12/3/17
I live in a vat of cocoa butter
I’m so afraid of getting old
The wrinkly skin, it makes me shudder
Want cocoa butter skin, let the truth be told
I sleep in a bed that’s made of olives
The olive oil is so good for the hair
Let it be known that I’m a pal of
Young silky strands of hair, I swear
Now don’t forget to work your muscles
To keep your youth, you must keep the tone
I hit the gym, at work I hustle
Don’t want to spend the nights alone
I live in a vat of cocoa butter
I’m so afraid of getting old
Must think real clear, remove the clutter
Let the mind match the body, let the truth be told
On that Blessed Christmas morn,
we watched with great delight one
of nature’s finest shows,
Streets were being covered by the
silent falling of pure fluffy snow,
Evergreen were decorated with strings
of twinkling lights,
They shimmered like stars, illuminating
the night.
Around the Christmas tree, the laughter
of children full of excitement and joy,
Busy exchanging and opening gifts
of sweets and Santa’s toys,
Family and Friends happily sat beside
each other,
Sipping warm cocoa and homemade
wine without a care or a bother.
And on the festive table, a humble feast
was laid, a place and plate for all,
Of various foods that tradition calls,
Moments like these are treasures found,
In the company of loved ones, just being
around.
Gathered by the fire carols, we softly
sang,
Wrapping us in hope, they did bring,
Each note, a gentle reminder,
Binding us with warmth and love,
keeping us together.
And as the warmth from the hearth
neared its end, a touch of sadness
entered the heart,
So let’s cherish such moments, as
Christmas Day will surely depart,
And so in prayers, let’s whisper a
multitude of thanks and seeds of
wishes continue to sow,
For all around the world, peace and
love, to spread and grow.
By Zyrool
COCOA
This is me
Once the pride
Of your fathers
I gave them
Smiles
Yes I gave them smiles
Plant me you .
I do not
Discriminate
Plant me and
I will grow
You love
Eating me
As chocolate
Rub me as body lotion
Plant me
I will make
You rich.