Best Hot Cross Poems
Heckle and Jeckle, jellyroll jam,
Ponce de Leon’s Fountain of Youth.
Little kids like to eat green eggs and ham;
So do you – now tell me the truth!
One fish, two fish, red, white and blue fish,
Old glory is waving on high;
A moss-covered, three-handled family cradunza
Might suddenly take to the sky.
Tiddly-winkle little starfish,
In a show starring Bullwinkle Moose;
Rocky the Squirrel shares raspberry jam
With Old Mother Hubbardy Goose.
Goosey Lucy and old Turkey Lurkey
Hiding out in the Wise-acre Wood;
Lambchop takes tea with his jellyroll jam,
While jammin’ with Johnny B. Good.
Humpty Dumpty, coddleston pie,
Three little Pigletty pooh;
Jam up jelly tight hot cross buns,
Magpies eat jellybeans, too.
Miss Velociraptor knew she was scary,
she’d be rich if for each scream she had a penny.
She tried her best not to growl,
not to chase, beat or foul,
but not for long could she stick with any.
Mr T-Rex wanted a mate,
old now, he worried it was too late.
But his hands were so small,
he could never pick up the phone to call,
the dino he fancied to ask for a date.
Mrs Pterodactyl loved soaring in the sky,
knowing the dinosaurs below wished they too could fly.
Getting close to the sun,
sizzling like a hot cross bun,
merrily flapping her wings as she swooshed by.
Master Diplodocus disliked his enormous feet,
no animal with paws larger he ever did meet.
He even tried nail polish
to make his toes look less trollish,
whilst still crushing tiny creatures in the street.
Mummy and Daddy Iguanodon tried to evade,
whilst placing their youngest in some cooling shade,
that summer’s terrible heat,
which was rotting all their hunted meat,
their patience in the warmth just starting to fade.
Baby Allosaurus would not go to sleep,
all night long he continued to roar, dig and leap.
But when babysitter Plesiosaur
told him she was a very hungry carnivore,
no sound was then heard, not one peep.
Alice plummets down the hole, a fallin’ to no end,
She mumbles to herself these words, for she’s without a friend:
>>Do cats eat bats? Do cats eat bats? Do bats eat cats?> It hurts, by George, it hurts…
It hurts a million times and more and then it hurts again!> Hot cross buns, hot cross buns.
One a penny, two a penny, hot cross buns.<<
Is there no balm in Gilead? for here I can’t find none.
Even now my grammar appears to come undone!
Grandad says that Easter isn’t funny
You won’t find him at parties
Dressed up as the Easter bunny
He’ll not be scoffing chocolate eggs
Or anything like that
He’ll be putting on his Sunday best
And dusting off his hat
For Grandad is an Anglican
Of serious intent
Does bible study when he can
And gave up cake for Lent
He says that Jesus died for me
And I’d best not forget it
But seeing as I’m only three
I’m sorry, I don’t get it
My Granny, now my Granny, mind
She has a different view
She leaves me little eggs to find
In places like my shoe
The smell of Granny’s hot cross buns
Is paradise and bliss
She makes me little special ones
Topped with a tiny kiss
Granny says God loves me
As she makes my Easter bonnet
With a smile as she carefully
Sews flowers and bees upon it
Let Grandad do religious stuff
The crucifixion thing
I’m only really old enough
For Granny, and the Spring
Grandad’s back from church now
Saying ‘Jesus rose for you’
‘Well, bless us all’ my Granny says
‘The buns are risen too’
by Gail
Look at this poppy-seed bread:
Black stars in a white sky,
Outside, an aloe plant rustles in the wind,
As out of place as dead people whispering.
I am not planning to die, however
Will they write my autobiography,
Listening to Fall Out Boy's 'Centuries'
Remember me...
For small recollections
Of a day-time moon,
This hot-cross bun blazoned across a handful
Of wayward seasons.
And I am not making any promises,
But this side of having a cold, far out stars
Are inextinguishable.
Hot Cross Bun
(Now figure out that title)
In poetry will we finally reach a phase
When all of our poems truly amaze
Ourselves and others reading them
In front of fireplace when light is dim.
An old Abe sure you don't happen to be
Back in those days it was hard to see
Things as silence of night was there
So they lit a long candle with care.
As for me I prefer an electric light
And write poems as hard as I might
After in my mind a picture they drew
When I awoke each one came through.
Could be barely in morning or late at night
And any temptation off I refused to fight
Regardless of way my mind might be going
Poems popped out and are all freely flowing.
Some poets say that my poems are repugnant
Due to being weird and rather redundant
I myself find favor with each and everyone
And read them while eating a hot cross bun.
James Thomas Horn, Retired Veteran
PS. They don't have a category for sick yet.
Hot cross buns we eat
As we think of him today
Easter eggs remind
us of new spring life on earth
Our families together
The Easter Bunny
Easter Eggs, in the shops galore,
Buy just one and you’ll want lots more.
One for Mum and one for Dad
And all the children, that’s not bad.
Easter eggs are just such fun
They herald Spring which brings the sun
How did the Easter eggs get here?
From the Easter Bunny that is clear.
In coloured wrappers bright they come
Undoing them is such great fun.
Ribbons like rainbows tied around.
The shiny chocolate to be found.
The chocolate eggs, they are such treats
Shapes of rabbits, chickens and sweetmeats.
But wait awhile before you eat,
What is the purpose of such a treat?
Good Friday brings the Hot Cross Bun
When Jesus died for us: God’s only son
But Joy! on Easter Day, He rose
He loved us so much this path he chose
So eat your Easter eggs with joy
God loves us, every girl and boy
His love surrounds us - day and night
Look up in the sky - His star shines bright.
Enjoy your Easter Eggs. Have fun
Cross has many meanings and symbols in everyday life
It can be described as a facial expression of distaste or strife
To cross someone, a person hurts others for their own sake
A Cross is also known as the place Jesus died for us on the stake
Many people wear cross pendants, they are seen worldwide
“To Cross” can also be a bridge or road to travel to reach the other side
Cross can be patterns to follow to make some clothes or knit
Cross stitch was seen as a popular craft from the eighties, often in a kit
Cross can be a grade school memory of crossing your t’s and dotting your i’s
Cross reminds me of hot cross buns, their taste and smell are such a high
2/27/19
Cross-Your interpretation Contest
Sponsor: Carolyn Devonshire
I went for my early morning run,
just me and my young son.
It was to be a lot of fun,
then home for a hot cross bun.
We waved to Mary's grandson,
then it had all begun.
My shoe came untied.
I almost died.
Come on one spiritual guide,
I cried.
One must hold on to their pride,
disaster is about to show real wide.
Down I went,
did the concrete now have a dent?
It all peeked off to the bright morning sun.
Henry Normal is very informal
When he reads his poetry
Robbie Caltrane looks almost insane
When he apears on the TV
Bruce Forsythe has a very nice wife;
Well he's had quite a few you know
And Roger McGough was once known to cough
On a live broadcast TV show
A.A Milne may have owned a kilne
In which he mad pottery Poohs
Billy Bragg was once called a slag
By someone in blue suede shoes
Ben Elton ate a hot cross bun
And he isn't religious you know
And Roger Mcgough was once known to cough
On a live broadcast TV show.
Alan Bennett could run for the sennett
and write all the speaches much beter
Jonathan price doesn't need my advice
So I won't even write me a letter
Stephen Fry is so nice I could cry
And Hugh Laurie has a readybreak glow
And Roger McGough was once known to cough
On a live broadcast TV show
My grandson’s in the band this year;
He’s playing the trombone.
We wondered how he’d handle it
Or get those deep notes blown.
The instrument within its case
Seems hard for him to schlep,
But we watched as he assembled it
To practice, step by step.
He played the notes of “Hot Cross Buns”
(We couldn’t really tell)
With sounds that he produced emerging
From the trombone’s bell.
He recognized mistakes, but then
He’d have another go,
Remaining calm and focused
‘Til the notes began to flow.
How wonderful to witness
The beginnings of a skill
Which may grow or not, but currently
Gives all of us a thrill.
The calendar’s already marked –
There is a concert date
To hear the 4th grade band perform
And we can hardly wait!
...Baum’s men were caught in a hot cross-fire,
many quickly were sent to the grave,
their Indian allies wisely pulled out,
seeing no victory to be had that day.
The militia just kept pushing closer,
and destroyed the Hessian powder cart,
they charged their positions, muskets as clubs,
the mercenaries began to loose heart.
Then Colonel Baum, in his desperation,
ordered his men out on a sabre charge,
they bulled straight ahead at the militia,
but were cut down before they got that far.
Baum himself was wounded mortally,
the attack being his final stand,
and all the remaining British forces
dropped their guns, quickly threw up their hands.
The Americans had taken the hill,
and went about looting the Hessians’ supplies,
they were busy securing their prisoners
when a new shock came before their eyes.
Six-hundred-fifty more Hessian soldiers,
with Heinrich von Breymann in the lead,
fell upon the tired, disordered rebels,
pressing the fight with surprising speed.
Now Stark and his men were driven on back,
struggling hard to restore formation,
but at that moment the Green Mountain Boys
arrived to fight for the young nation.
Three-hundred-fifty threw in with John Stark,
the shock British advance quickly stalled,
they battled Breymann until twilight’s gloom,
the Americans let him have it all.
By nightfall Breymann had lost a quarter
of his force, was outnumbered and mired,
he’d lost all his cannons, and deduced that
the only choice left was to retire.
He retreated west, back to Burgoyne’s force,
no attempt at a pursuit was made,
Burgoyne’s mighty raid had found only blood,
nine hundred casualties he had paid.
Those men would’ve been useful in weeks to come,
when the British went against General Gates,
at Saratoga, Burgoyne faced a rout,
his surrender still recalled to his day.
Stark was hailed a hero for his actions,
for facing down the foe eye-to-eye,
what else could be expected from the great man
who would declare we should ‘Live Free or Die.’
He and the militia had changed the fight,
and covered themselves in great glory,
by striking a blow for liberty’s cause,
so a new nation might begin its story…
The theme park was crowded. Elephants on roller coasters, mosquitos bracing the water slide, ferrets enjoying the ferris wheel and leopards shooting crack in the gallery. A myriad of personification and abundance of fairy tailed suggestions. ‘Its a small, small world’ blared from Magic Mountain as Cinderella dressed up as an indentured laborer in a fancy shoe shop. A comedy of terror ensued in the ghost train, conducted by a retired wall street banking giant resuming the corporate identity of a demon slayer. seemingly seeking redemption, but of course, he had another ace in his sleeve.
All animals were equal but of course the apocalypse had struck in 1984 and the Lord of the Flies was buzzing disguised as an orange clock, collected tickets and sold strawberry ice cream.
An English patient from a nearby lunatic asylum, thought he was a beetle, but Kafka had married Mary Antoinette and was sipping champagne from her braw. She, for once was not eating cake and was thus unveiling the myth of leavened bread at her altar. A merry go round of deception in the snake pit in which a contortionist was trapped in limbo and loin cloth from hell. Mary Magdalene teased him with with a vile of anti venomous serum and soothed his wavering agony in anticipation of saving the world.
Hot cross buns offered cold comfort, but the world was on withdrawal after management had banned coke as a sugar substitute. Sweet dreams were made of lactose free roach skin and the party dwellers reveled in aspirations and nightmares, elevated to prime position in the national canon. A truly amazing ode to joy and poignant distraction from the pawn shop of modern living.
But when the bell struck midnight and Dali melted his digital clock, all went back to the nothingness of the human condition. ‘Your shift starts in eight hours, nothing has moved because of a little fun in paradise’s ante chambers.’ Thanks God the crowd were already wearing their flannel night gowns. ‘Gotta live life to the full and heaven can’t wait.
Sloppy Santa spent his Christmas jolly
Until in folly he sat on holly
Yet Old Saint Nick laughed like a loon.
Bright eyes twinkling, his cap did doff
Watching a rich eggnog run off
With his dear sweet hot cross bun, soon
To a damp honeymoon spittoon.
Santa saw it, please do not scoff.
12/22/2020