Best Hotcakes Poems
We had missed five days in
The last two weeks
Due to the ice and snow.
Roads and streets had been impassable—
Freezing rain, blowing snow and black ice.
We started the day late at 10 am.
I greeted them at the doors—
Worried about attendance.
But, ninety-five percent made it.
Fantastic!
They were wrapped in hooded jackets
And wore toboggans with rainbow colors.
Mothers had stuffed them with oatmeal,
Hotcakes and sausage.
One carried chocolate milk
And powdered sugar donuts,
Along with tousled hair and a big smile.
I was glad they made it.
We didn’t need to lose another
Day of instruction.
The day went smoothly, too.
In spite of the frigid cold that pushed
The mercury down to two degrees.
Frozen feet tracked salted snow
Onto brightly buffed tiles.
One carried an icicle two foot long—
I convinced him it would keep outside.
Then came lunch.
The short day was ready made for
Corn dogs and sloppy Joes—
A menu that might have been invented
By kindergarteners.
But they hardly touched either one.
Today they served
Golden Meadow Orange Dream Bars—
A dessert that was surely made in Heaven.
Ice cream on the coldest day of the year.
And the February freeze was forgotten.
The orange circled smiles of kinders
Beamed a warmth from within,
Making the remainder of the day brighter,
Marking an end to winter.
Categories:
hotcakes, school, seasonsday, day,
Form:
Free verse
Poetry is about faith, a song, and sometimes a checkup.
It’s about that girl on the other side you want to link up.
Poetry is about the beauty of life when you want to grow up.
It’s about lost love and now all you want to do is throw up.
Poetry is about the frustration that makes you want to blow up.
It’s about all those things you just said and you want to backup.
Poetry is about a good night of sleep but you struggle to get up.
It’s about the time it takes you in a rush to put on your makeup.
Poetry is about being stuck in traffic because there's a pileup.
It’s about realizing you should take your car in for a tuneup.
Poetry is about the spring fresh air in the morning when you get up.
It’s about enjoying a breakfast together with hotcakes and syrup.
Poetry is about being at your local bank when there's a holdup.
It’s about the police showing you all of these people in a lineup.
Poetry is about family reunions when you don't want to show up.
It’s about all of the gossips, you hear while sipping on your teacup.
Poetry is about going to the doctor’s office to get a workup.
It’s about finding yourself at the local gym, counting a pushup.
Poetry is about all of these emotions that need to be let up.
It’s about writing things down balancing your life to shape up.
Edward J Ebbs - September 13, 2014
Written for a Contest, How Poetry Began
Categories:
hotcakes, break up, courage, life,
Form:
Rhyme
Grab a wooden spoon, and choose a mixing bowl
A breakfast that is piping hot is worth its weight in gold!
You can make them by the dozens, or one or two will do
Make them for your next of kin, or neighbors you have got
Even for those teenage boys, ...(the ones who eat a lot!)
Let's see you fry a stack of cakes that tower on the plate
The stack is high,...but folks will sigh with happiness inside
So get the griddle piping hot, and warm syrup too
And don't forget a pot of jam and marmalade is good!
Applesauce, gets an A+ ,.......and often gets applause!
Yes you can! Whip some up.....it's as easy fix to do
No need to go to I-Hop. Just make them on the spot
Wake them up to something yummy
Fill a tummy, make 'em happy, maple syrup needs some sopping
Buckwheat makes the grumpy jolly, just stir the lumps out 'til there's none
And someone's sour mood is gone, when sourdough is stacked at dawn
Flapjacks wake the sleepyheads, before they run straight out the door
They'll turn right back to have some more .....three or four, or five or six
Butter oozing down the sides, sticky syrup glazing eyes.....mouths will water
hear the laughter.....add some nuts, or raisin eyes, make a face a big surprise
Yum! Yum! Yum! M & M's add some fun, and add a chocolate prize!
And if you dare, to be so bold
Flip your flapjack, pan-fried gold.....Just grab and hold your frying pan
It 's in the grip, ......then flip ! You can !!! And if you're lucky it will land
upon the plate........not on the floor, across the room,......
but one mistake......, just mop it up, and try it all again!
Practice tennis while you're at it,...Ping pong too...., and batter-up.....
Up it goes........and down it comes........Something yummy for your tummy
Pancake's, flapjacks .......hotcakes, hoecakes..
Pick your favorite, flip them high........ make them small or any size
Make a ton........!!! It's worth a try !
__________________________________________________
For Didactic Food Contest: sponsored by Tammy Reams
10/5/15
Categories:
hotcakes, food, fun, funny,
Form:
Didactic
Boxes and cupboards, closets and drawers
I am retrieving everything from my past
And freeing them to a world of usage
Even old wine will be opened
And that set of china too expensive to use
Except on special occasions will be used again
Because today is my special occasion
Just as will be everyday in my new beginning
Those rose-shaped candles will become
Puddles of wax and the silverware
Brought out only to laboriously clean
Will be used on hotcakes and omelets
I will resurrect all the things that were preserved
Bottles of cologne and after shave
From Christmases long past will find the bathroom shelf
Where they will be used until exhausted
What has passed the fashion or current vogue
Will be given to the poor and photos
Once too painful to see will find walls to live upon
And jigsaw puzzles will be joined into their rightful image
And old records played with a tinny remembrance
As I bring life again to my somber world of aloneness
Where memories thrive without validation
And need the reference of old things long forgotten
Categories:
hotcakes, freedom, introspection, philosophy, world,
Form:
Free verse
Let The Music Play On
When I am melancholy
And feeling, all alone
I place my violin
On my shoulder, like a phone
Then start a conversation
In melodic overtones
and every string that speaks to me
Brings me closer back to home
I can smell the coffee brewing
There're hotcakes on the griddle
And Gram-pa in the corner
Strumming lightly on His fiddle
And now that fiddle's mine
He passed it on to me
So I could find my way back home
Wherever I may be
One day I’ll have a child
May be, a He or She
I hope they'll learn its language
And treat it patiently
And take it safely with them
Wherever they may roam
‘Cause all they have to do is play
To find there way back home
Categories:
hotcakes, appreciation, family, home, language,
Form:
Rhyme
Being Jemima
Aunt Jemima! Who in God’s name
Came up with that name?
Molded polyurethane encasing
Thick sweet amber
You didn’t even think enuf of me
To give me decent clothes
I can do better than smother hotcakes
Take this kerchief off my head, you hear?
I ain’t no maid, no servant, no flapjack topper
Get me off this table and let me be what
I was destined to be, what I’m free to be.
Aunt Jemima. Really. What’s takin’ so long?
8-16-12
Categories:
hotcakes, black african american, discrimination,
Form:
Prose
Is there any finer sensation
Than chomping on a juicy steak
Gulping down a gallon of beer
Or stuffing your face with cake
Eating can be the greatest thrill
Known to the common man
It beats every other sensation
Experienced since time began
A bowl of chocolate ice cream
Some hotcakes piled high
Scrambled eggs with sausages
Delicious homemade pie
Grilled hot dogs on the barbie
Ham sandwiches at the beach
A birthday party for Johnny
A great big juicy peach
All these things go to make
A bowl full of happiness
The only drawback I can see
It can turn into flabbiness
© Jack Ellison 2013
Categories:
hotcakes, humor,
Form:
Quatrain
I need to ask a question
Does anybody know
Who made up these crazy sayings
Like walking to and fro
They say it sales like hotcakes
Do hotcakes really sell
They call a skunk a polecat
Is that something to do with smell
Stick it where the sun don't shine
What's that supposed to mean
Or a great Idea is always heard
But very seldom seen
A penny saved is a penny earned
Well, how are you gonna eat
Or I've never met a person
I didn't wanna meet
So, if you know this answer
Somebody let me know
Until then, I'll be waiting
Just walking to and fro
Categories:
hotcakes, funny
Form:
Rhyme
too much hostilities
in all the big cities
and all the small towns
they have their own frowns
there's too many guns
for fathers and sons
people are dying
many are lying
shootings are on the rise
and way too many cries
guns are selling like hotcakes
our protection no mistakes
U.S. becoming bloody
making our future muddy
Categories:
hotcakes, america, death,
Form:
Couplet
Do you feel it too
You know, the graying of Halloween
For several decades it was all the rage
for Sonny-and-Cher-like adults, whatever their age
Red-light district numbers sold like hotcakes
along with ghoulish getups for opulent jakes
Something happened though, can't put my finger on it
maybe it started with Covid, like EVERYTHING else did
as the government reminds us...
Do you feel it too
Halloween's lost her old zipperoo
Maybe the air is out of the balloon
~ for a bit
Categories:
hotcakes, change, feelings, halloween,
Form:
Free verse
It’s hard these days for a crook.
Go anywhere around and take a look.
Ain’t no shops to rob of jewelry.
They all closed up and got security.
Not even restaurants for him to rob,
and at the grocers’ Lordy - what a mob!
It’s hard these days for a thief.
I wonder how he’s finding his relief.
Folks he used to rob out on the street
are staying home or downtown packing heat!
See a mugger; put him at unease.
If ya got no gun, pretend to sneeze.
What’s he gonna do? What’s he gonna do?
That crook, that thief, that louse. He’s in a stew.
Yeah, it’s hard these days for a crook.
How’s he gonna get any fishes on his hook.
Hard to burglarize both night AND day
with kids now home and never gone away.
Dad’s are even working from their houses -
some with bullets ready for the louses!
It’s hard these days for the thief.
The grocery stores don’t even have ground beef.
Cops now guard those stores, for heaven’s sake!
How’s the robber gonna get a break?
He best be wise and stay away from US!
In case somebody out there has the virus.
What’s he gonna do? What’s he gonna do?
That crook, that thief, that louse. He’s in a stew.
March 27, 2020 for Richard Lamoureux's A-Muse-Sing Poetry Contest
I was thinking of that song "It's Hard Out Here for a Pimp" and got the idea to be sarastic about crooks. So this was inspired by that song (though it does not use that song's rapping format at all), and by the title of Richard's contest. Just trying to keep things light. The guns at gun shops here are selling like hotcakes.
Categories:
hotcakes, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
They found the smoking dagger
Happiness is a loving family in another city
True friends stab you in the front
He’s a wolf in cheap clothing
He received a decease and desist order
I shot the wind out of his saddle
He’s not the one with his ass in a noose
I’m watching everything you do with a fine-tuned comb
It’s as easy as falling off a piece of pie
Robbing Peter to pay the piper
It’s time to grab the bull by the tail and look him in the eye
You can’t change the spots on an old dog
Step up to the plate and lay your cards on the table
He’s a little green behind the ears
We have to get all our ducks on the same page
The fan is gonna hit the roof
Wake up and smell the coffee on the wall
People are dying like hotcakes
It's as easy as falling off a piece of cake
A stitch in time gathers no moss
He was burning the midnight oil at both ends
It sticks out like a sore throat
It's not exactly rocket surgery
I wouldn’t be caught dead with a ten-foot pole
The sweater was all moth-eared
A loose tongue spoils the broth
You're not the brightest bulb in the knife drawer
I shot the wind out of his saddle
I have a lot of black sheep in my closet
And my all time favourite...
She’s suffering from a detached rectum
Categories:
hotcakes, humorous,
Form:
Free verse
I sold my accordion ‘cause I couldn’t find the time to play.
Some bum stole my fishin’ pole, but I hardly used it anyway.
I spent my “vacation” pullin’ stumps to clear the lower ten.
And last week that old antique diesel generator broke again.
I should be mucking out the stable. I should be harvesting the wheat,
But when there’s hotcakes on the table, I guess it’s time to take a seat.
Ya don’t need an artist’s soul for to straighten out a crooked frame.
Just stand tall and face the wall; every level’s gonna be the same.
I’m done diggin’ postholes and the generator’s back on line.
The cat’s loose, there’s no excuse not to be my honey’s valentine.
I do my chores as best I’m able; go through ‘em once and then repeat,
But since there’s hotcakes on the table, I’m sure it’s time to take a seat.
I wash up and settle in when my angel fixes me a meal,
Her nightgown all draped around what I’m hopin’ she will soon reveal.
Though I’ve got incentive and the energy to run the farm,
There’s no way I’m bailing hay when my baby takes me by the arm.
She serves a steaming stack of hotcakes; they’re always sugar maple sweet
And when she lays it on the table, I know it’s time to take a seat.
Categories:
hotcakes, allegory, desire, farm,
Form:
Lyric
two brothers hailed from the old country
from Donnybrook
one more like an engineer
the other like a cook
they specialized in pancakes
the best, you can't deny
Sean made them taste like heaven
Finn stacked them high
supplies came from all around
in wagons and in trucks
Sean whipped up the batter
and ol' Finn he constructs
with eggs from every chicken
and milk from every cow
maple syrup miracles
from the oats that they did grow
when these flapjack masters
grew old and had to die
they made a stack of hotcakes
and they climbed it to the sky
kids, each time you eat griddle cakes
you should be like me
stack 'em high
and think of Sean and Finn McGee
Categories:
hotcakes, brother, death, food, fun,
Form:
Rhyme
Two brothers hailed from the old country, from Donnybrook -
one more like an engineer, the other like a cook.
They specialized in pancakes - the best, you can't deny.
Sean made them taste like heaven, and Finn stacked them high.
Supplies came from all around, in wagons and in trucks.
Sean whipped up the batter, and ol' Finn he constructs,
with eggs from every chicken and milk from every cow,
maple syrup miracles from the oats that they did grow.
When these flapjack masters grew old and had to die,
they made a stack of hotcakes and they climbed it to the sky.
Kids, each time you eat griddle cakes, you should be like me,
stack 'em high and think of Sean and Finn McGee.
Categories:
hotcakes, brother, food, silly,
Form:
Rhyme