Get Your Premium Membership

Best Icing On The Cake Poems | Poetry

Below are the all-time best Icing On The Cake poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of icing on the cake poems written by PoetrySoup members

Search for Icing On The Cake poems, articles about Icing On The Cake poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Icing On The Cake poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

See Also:

Poems are below...

View all new Icing On The Cake Poems

The Best Icing On The Cake Poems

Details | Icing On The Cake Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Garden of Graces

Growing older is a garden of graces . . .
disgraces, wild goose chases, closed in places.
It is an imperceptible tottering of time on a
conveyer belt, where at the end time drops
into the slipstream and becomes the mobius .

Growing older is wanting to be older when
you are young and younger when you are old.
You wish away the days, never dreaming that
you would give a king’s ransom to have them 
back once again, treasured, appreciated.

In our youth, we squander time, kick it to the curb.
In our older years, we try to tie it to ourselves.
Age sneaks around when we aren’t looking, spreads
its poison pollen and is gone without our seeing.

The business of living distracts us from noticing
until it is too late, when we look into a mirror,
only to behold the ruthless signs smothering us.
It is realizing men no longer turn and whistle.
You have become invisible, crayoned out until
some young man says, “Grandma, the time?”

Growing older is smelling of Icy Hot instead of
Beautiful by Estee Lauder, seeing people sniff.
It is keeping L`Oreal in business long past the time
you want to stop, but can’t bear those gray hairs
that are the mute testimony to the inexorable decay

Growing older is breaking the shackles of propriety
Wearing that purple, and at least four sweaters.
It is joyously realizing you don’t care a fig what
people think or say about you or anything else.
You can laugh at the absurdity of fashion, style.
It is the delicious capability to say anything
you want, vent your opinions, disagree.
You say the most outrageous things freely,
and are forgiven, because you are getting
more than a little fey and just a little dotty.
And, oh, growing old is the sweetest blessing,
for you no longer are frozen in fear at death
and it's coming soon, for your years have
worn you out and everything changes so much
there is scarcely anything left of your world

What does it matter what god you worshipped
This earth has been hell enough for an eternity
and if there be heaven, it is icing on the cake

Copyright © Sherry Asbury | Year Posted 2018

Details | Icing On The Cake Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Reunion

They came from as far a way as New York and Dallas Texas. The class of 1981 wasn't a large class, it was the very first class of a very very private school. Their school, the Verdant Academy was started by a group of extravigantly rich parents. They hired the best teachers, nothing was too good for their children. They had all gone on to the very best Universities in the country.

All in all there were only four graduates of that first class. The valedictorian was Michael Kent. Michael arrived first at the restaurant, as he sat down he wondered what they would talk about. He had gone on to Harvard and was now at a big firm in Manhattan. He couldn't wait to share the wonders of him with the others. The beautiful blonde on his arm would be the icing on the cake. No one had to know that he had hired her for this special occasion and she was worth every penny. He especially wanted to see the look on Stephen's face. Stephen in his estimation was a waste of skin, in fact the world would be a better place if he didn't exist. Michael noticed me in my black suit and beckoned me over to the table. I gladly came over and he ordered a Martini "Shaken not Stirred" he had always fancied a bond like persona. His companion was happy with water.

Jessica was the next to arrive, she didn't have to come very far, she lived right here in Seattle. She smiled at Michael and gave him a kiss on both cheeks. He introduced his companion and they shared a few pleasantries. Jessica thought to herself, wow she's a Ten and Michael is still a six. Mostly her mind was on the Gallery. She had started her Gallery ten years ago and it had become extremely successful. She had dabbled at painting for a while but lacked any real talent. Her talent was in spotting others talent. Artists from around the country displayed their wares in her Gallery. Most of them had been unknown prior to her discovering them. Other Galleries had sprung up around hers but none of them achieved her level of success. She wore her success well and possessed an understated elegance and cultivated an artists flair. She came on her own for in her perfect world men were nothing but a distraction, to be used and auctioned off to the next highest bidder. She had been wondering when or if Rachel would arrive, she couldn't stand that bit_h. Maybe she had done the world a favor and died. As I walked over to the table with Michael's drink Jessica ordered a Gin and Tonic.

When Stephen and his date arrived you would have thought he and Michael were best friends. They did the bro hug and patted each other on the back. Stephen was a few inches taller and possessed an athletic build. He had been a successful university Tennis player and would have gone pro if not for a reoccurring ankle injury. He had gone on to establish a number of Tennis camps in the central states. Strangely he had always liked Michael and had no idea that Michael disliked him. Michael had always followed him around like a lost puppy in hopes of getting a few scraps from the table. Stephen always benefited from the allure of being an athlete. He had his choice of girls and Jessica had been one of them. She had broken his heart and seeing her here he wished he could run her over with his Mercedes SUV. That would be the icing on his otherwise perfect life. He then asked me for a scotch on the rocks and I was happy to comply.

Rachel walked into the restaurant with the confidence of a Rock Star. On her arm was a man at least five years younger and still she looked younger than him. She was small yet somehow had always been larger than life. Her green eyes had an almost hypnotic quality and no one would ever forget that amazing ***! She started her own modelling agency in Dallas Texas of all places, specializing in petite models. Her motto was "Not everything is big in Texas" it seems however that the profits certainly were big. As she looked around the table she smiled her mischievous smile and said "What's up bitches?" Her eyes rested momentarily on Michael the worlds biggest douche, he had always been such a pompous ***. His parents gave him everything he asked for and still it couldn't make him cool. He used to drive a bright lime green M3 and she loved to imagine him driving it off a cliff. The world would be a better place without him. Rachel snapped her fingers and summoned me to the table. "A Cosmopolitan please! 

As I brought the last drink to the table I listened as each of the Verdant graduates expounded on how they had made the world a better place. I interrupted and said "Michael, Stephen, Jessica and Rachel please come with me!" They seemed surprised I knew their names but rose from their seats like obedient children. They followed me through a ornate wooden door leaving their companions at the table. As the door closed behind them I turned and smiled, "Today the World is truly a better place!"

In the news today a tragic loss of life, four friends are killed in a freak accident at a down town restaurant. A gas leak claims the lives of Stephen Tomler, Jessica Simpson, Michael Kent and Rachel Conrad. Fortunately the leak was confined to a private room and the rest of the patrons were evacuated without further incident. 

Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2015

Details | Icing On The Cake Poem | Create an image from this poem.

What is Friendship

It's the comfy, over-sized sweater
that will never judge
the soft and cozy blanket
that will never count the fudge
The piping cup of cocoa
warm tendrils embracing your nose
the book of pure enjoyment
you just can't seem to close
it's strawberries and cream
a rich chocolate shake
a rootbeer float with whipped cream
the icing on the cake
A friend is like a circle
where no darkness can seep in
for in the radius of their smile
love's light is bright within.

TDR 3-28-15

Copyright © Trudy Diane Rider | Year Posted 2016

Details | Icing On The Cake Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Why does the will i am hate Mr Jones?

Is it cause youre small minded Mr jones asks the many voices who once had 
repect counting the crows pecking the and gouging out their eyes?
Is it cause you loathe what you dont understand and this revelation is something 
they need to see in themselves?
Is it the fact you carry a heavy load and need a helping hand
was it the opium you down like poison that you Jones for
leaving you to ask who i am?

Whats the will I am saying?
as he steals my spotlight
leaving me here assassinated verbally like a sitting duck
sure im no hippy sniffing daisies
pounding on drums in peace beads begging for sex
with a picket sign saying peace please

Is it because im gay?
Is it because im spiritual?
do we have ***** envy?
Have you read the lists?
are you going to pay the tithe?
and before you mash the send button with snide cruel bitter comments
please please
don't think twice

the murder of crows circling
cawing in the blood moon sky
November rains down on this wedding day
and I am forever by your side
why does my will
the will i am hate me?
is it a syndrom of an itchy trigger finger
an itch below the waste
why must everyone pull eachother down
back into the boiling pot
like the crabs we truly are in this amazing race
to lose it all
then fall
and sing and
sway and praise
and humm such blasphemous amazing grace
of grammatical errors and spelling mistakes

oh sweet sugar coatings
and icing on the cake
The will iam
I wonder counting crows
a famous last name with me
Mr jones
why do you hate the will I am

Is it because i read tarot cards?
is it because i'm gay?
is it because i'm amongst favorites?
is it because im controversial?
is it because you have nothing to say?

but who am i flamethrower
i sit here a hack
with a curse gor the harpie you are
and a smile upon my face
i throw this effortless nothing
and never look back

the stone falls into the pool of the abyss
oh will i am
mr jones
why do you loathe what you dont understand?

Copyright © Troy Nelson | Year Posted 2007

Details | Icing On The Cake Poem | Create an image from this poem.

A Letter to Hamas

Other End of the Street

The Wall
We suffer
Easy to hate what you can not see
So instead we all suffer in misery
Worlds apart
In the same village
Modern wars, are fought on TV
Confusing the haters, maybe you and me
Do not be fooled
I will teach you how to kill
All of your enemies
Not one rocket fired
Very simple
Love your children
More than hating any enemy

This is the feast of peace
The dessert?
Invite the enemy
Into your home
He shall lie dead before you
Slayed, not with a knife
With your kindness
For kindness has no foe
Kindness builds friendships
Friendships build love
Love kills all enemies
The icing on the cake!
Vill du ha efterrätt?

Notes: The last line is Swedish for "Would you like dessert"

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2014

Details | Icing On The Cake Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Poetic Mastermind of these times

The Poetic Mastermind of these times, 
Penetrating with organically written rhymes,
Before you now, I’ve already won, 
Speaking in fluent poetic tongues, 
To all the puppets blindly strung,
Classic lyrical plots, stung by the gunshots on some drastic target practice,
From the abyss spilling Illmatic proof within hidden truths, 
Clues dance, forbidden tests laying to rest dogmatic tactical rants, 
Advanced pen stance, envisioning success, placing my mindset to this page,
Space aged minted constructs roll off the tip of my writing instrument,
Statements guaranteed to exceed all expectations, in control,
Hard to decipher like the Dead Sea scrolls, outta control you fall,
Falling to the depths of ignorance, so pack your bags, we don’t have the same interests,
The angel’s choice, vigorous, that’s our difference, the all-knowing voice, rejoice!
You need a hand to wake up, your stakes are flakey, keep reading the icing on the cake,
Shaping my art, start to finish without blemish,
So you better believe this, most poets can't achieve this, 
I’ll be putting them into mental fits so they quit,
With wit and honesty, my number one policy is quality,
You’re glancing over my philosophy,
Claiming you need prophecy so I strike with high velocity,
Misunderstood and Hoodwinked by theology, 
Unaware of your path,
Starved by the psychopaths cultivating your minds aftermath.

Quincy Mac
Date Written: 8.5.2016

Copyright © Quincy Mac | Year Posted 2016

Details | Icing On The Cake Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Dragon, My Dragon

Dragon, My Dragon… Why do you weep? I’ll never grow up and leave you… See? Look how cute my hat and coat is, too. You know I love you. That will always be true. Grandpa Troll is family, but so are you, and Mike makes three. The Trolls are the icing on the cake, always so special, to be… But the penguins are really, quite cute, and fun, and unique. I bet our world will grow bigger… Just for you… and for me. But others can join and come along… Any old day… Along the way. Friends by the zillions, who want to come out and play! Play! Play! Dragon, My Dragon… Life with you is fun! Let’s run some more! Yea, I’m sure! We won’t get in trouble! No! Not at all! When I want fun, ‘You are the cure!’ So, can You come out and play with Me? Come on! Fly! Flap your wings! OOOPPPS! Look out for that tree! And don’t poo on my roses… Honestly! Sometimes I think you are taunting Me! But I can taunt you, too, just wait and see! Dragon, My Dragon… We’ll never grow old! I love you Dragon, with all that, is Me! *My fantasy character is a small girl playing endlessly with her Dragon and animals.

Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2013

Details | Icing On The Cake Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Almost Dead

And so it came to pass
as I raised a bourbon glass
and tossed a bolt of fire down my throat;
the ash from cigarettes
glowed as dying suffragettes,
chained to wrists of every weeping, wailing ghost.

A thirst I could not slake
was just icing on the cake,
as the closing bells resounded in the night;
every thought was dank and weary,
every eye was red and bleary,
every virgin born again without a blight.

Transistors crackled sound
from a cavern in the ground,
satisfaction blaring tinny and distorted;
time expanded then it shrank
with every mouthful that I drank
and the womb of reason shrivelled and aborted.

How transmissions swelled and swam
through the downing of each dram,
until the floor lay as a most inviting bed;
how I loved her very bones
and how I loved the rolling stones,
how I loved the old gods who were almost dead. 

Sat here in the Gwesty Bach
with rock and roll and Mrs Plath
wielding firebrands of culture round my head,
how I loved her I admit,
every semblance, every bit,
how I loved the old gods who were almost dead. 

Copyright © Tony Bush | Year Posted 2006

Details | Icing On The Cake Poem | Create an image from this poem.

He Called me a Goddess

    I come from a family of teachers. Teaching is in my blood, and it defines who I am.
Currently I’m teaching a university course entitled, “Writing Arguments.” My students had to send me an email stating what controversial issue they wanted to write an argumentative essay on. I was touched to the core to receive this letter from one of my students who has very strong views on certain issues. Here is what he wrote: 

     “I'd also like to tell my favorite teacher/queen/poetry goddess/ gorgeous and smart/educator/mentor that she is the best professor I've ever had. She's unique and talented and has good taste in everything. She's cute and has a very good sense of judgment...On behalf of all the class I'd like to thank you for showing us mercy and making English way more fun than it's supposed to be…”

     How could he know the impact of these words on my heart?  My response? 

     “First of all, let me assure you that your letter will be cherished and treasured. I will keep it for when I'm feeling down and am without hope. Thank you for your sweet and kind sentiments. I only correct you because I do not wish for you to suffer out there in the REAL world!”  ;)

     To be a mentor is a wonderful thing. Often students will come to my office to share their problems with me and to get a nice motherly hug. To be considered a good teacher is a blessing. Students prefer to take courses with me than with others. They even blow me kisses as they walk passed my classes. To be honest, my student's note made me feel like I'm making a difference, but also, he made me feel like a beautiful person both on the inside and on the outside. The icing on the cake was to be given the title, Poetry Goddess. Who could ask for more?!
Hope you enjoyed this little glimpse into my life from the perspective of someone who actually "sees" me! The pleasures of being a teacher!

Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2013

Details | Icing On The Cake Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Sitting at the feet of Jesus

Sitting at the feet of Jesus

As I view the days soon coming
All is new for Him to reign
I’ve been taken up to Heaven
It’s as perfect as it began

When at last I’m found in Glory
I will see Him face to face
I pray for a Crown so golden
To offer Him, I’ve won the race.

I will sing His constant praises
All His promises has kept
Now a mansion I shall dwell in
Walk on streets of gold each step

Spending all eternity near
My Creator God at last
Knowing all my sins and grief
Are forever, in the past.

If my loved one’s  I behold there
Amidst His splendors rays
That may be icing on the cake
Another blessing all my days

So give me rest till you return
May Your words now gladly share 
Guide the lost unto Your Spirit
He may open hearts so bare. 

May God bless your heart at you've read these words.

Copyright © Old buck | Year Posted 2015

Details | Icing On The Cake Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Saturn's Outer Rim

I sit here at the candlelit table in a silent plead 
Nineteenth century red wine is not what I need 
For I do believe I am beginning to hallucinate
Which means all my senses start to dissipate

I could swear the waiter was in the form of you
All the other guests gave me a familiar view
Each back of their head, the same blonde mop 
My eyes screwed up, still the feeling won’t stop 

I blink twice and look at my poor date 
He must think he’s in for a dire fate 
This crazy woman who now sits before him 
Looking like she belongs on Saturn’s outer rim

He reaches out to give me a worried grasp 
‘Are you alright?’
I respond with a dramatic gasp
I swore for a moment I saw your eyes 
As we now tuck into our shepherd pies 

‘Did I really order this?’ I said 
Was this off the menu I read?

He nodded his head, he looked to the ground
We sat there for 10 whole minutes without a sound 
‘What’s his name, the man that still has your heart?’ 
My lips begin to quiver, but they did not part 

I told myself I would never settle for contentment 
Nor live my life and wallow in my hearts resentment 
But is that what I am doing, tonight at this dinner?
Whilst my patience of my own mind wears thinner 

When all I really want is to be in your warm embrace 
To knock on your door, and see your handsome face
That’s what I’ll do! 

Oh god, I do feel rather dreadful for this poor man 
His romantic intentions haven’t quite gone to plan
He’s looking even more confused as I grab my clutch 
I rummage inside, it’s only fair if we go Dutch

‘I’m ever so sorry, but there’s someone I must see’
As I put down some money and begin my flee 
I run past the post office and the corner store 
Through the park I race, finally reaching your door 

I knock three times and wait, my head starts to pound 
What if he’s not in or worse, he has another girl round?
The light in the hallway comes on, my hands start to shake 
I bet she’s beautiful, wouldn't that be the icing on the cake 

The door opens, you greet my with a shocked expression 
I sigh heavily, not knowing how to state my intention 
‘I thought I’d just drop by for a late night chat’ 
That was the worst line ever, my conscience spat 

Oh if I don’t do it now, I might never get the chance!
I grab his shirt and pull him out of his shocked stance 
I press my lips to his and bring him back to our outer rim 
His hands on my back, I feel his mouth curl into a grin 


Copyright © Faith Carmichael | Year Posted 2014

Details | Icing On The Cake Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Happy Days

Good friends, good food, good weather - hey,
What more could one desire?
(I guess I'd add close family ties
Or else I'd be a liar!)

But hanging out with those you like
Or even those you love
Is what the stuff of happy days
Appears to be made of.

An anecdote, a sip of wine
And some camaraderie
In comfortable surroundings
Is the perfect day for me.

How lucky if you have the chance
To laugh, relax and schmooze*
And for the icing on the cake -
It's nice to have some booze!


Copyright © ilene bauer | Year Posted 2015

Details | Icing On The Cake Poem | Create an image from this poem.


For so many years I lived in fear of
	losing love again,
		loneliness preferable to
	transient bliss, something I could count on.

	Then you made me laugh, infectious
		laughter, like a stoned creek’s sighs.

A woman with so much sadness in her life
	made me her chocolate man
		found some joy in me
	of all people, fragile poet that I am.

	Rhythm’s nourishment, manna from heaven,
		rhyme, icing on the cake.

But happiness is so fragile isn’t it,
	expectations of loss
		almost the same thing -
	gypsy fortune teller views crystal ball.

	Then she leaves you too, no new address,
		future connection uncertain at best.

Time passes and I find myself still laughing
	even after your son’s death
		an apparent suicide,
	part of this life, but not seen as a curse.

	Sad for sure, but God too, is not to blame,
		all known life terminates.

And yet you and I persist, beyond reason,
	our creation’s big bang
		mysterious too though
	hardly something to hang your hat on.

	And that we still feel love at all
		An unexpected aftershock.

Brian Johnston
January 9, 2016

Copyright © Brian Johnston | Year Posted 2016

Details | Icing On The Cake Poem | Create an image from this poem.

My Darling Daughter

My darling daughter

My darling daughter ,
When I look into your eyes what do I see?
I see black beauty, that looks like me.

I see a warm heart, and gentle soul.
I see someone the world, 
is grateful to behold.

My darling daughter, 
I want only the best for you,
And for you, there is nothing, 
that I wouldn't do.

You are my star, in the midnight sky,
No one else compares,
 so they need not try.

You are the icing, on the cake,
And my love for you, 
keeps me awake!

I don't want, to ever stand in your way.
So I get on my knees, and I begin to pray.

I ask God to protect you always, 
And May you never forget, 
to give him the praise.

My darling daughter,
 you are truly a blessing,
And my love for you,
I can't help confessing.

I want the world to know exactly how I feel,
That you are no small part of me,
But, a really big deal!

My darling daughter, 
I will always stand by your side. 
I'll be your mentor, I'll be your guide.

I'll be your help when you need a hand.
I'll be your feet when you're unable to stand

I'll be you voice when you can't speak,
I'll be your strength when you are weak.

Whenever you look back,
You will find,
That your mother, 
is only two steps behind.

My darling daughter,
On me, you can always depend,
I'm not just your mother,
I'm your best friend!

Copyright © Bonita Mercado | Year Posted 2017

Details | Icing On The Cake Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Icing on the cake

Water iced over,
trapped beneath... a treasure trove,
fishermen's delight.

Copyright © George Aul | Year Posted 2015

Details | Icing On The Cake Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Gift, Then The Complaint

The Gift, Then The Complaint

Gladly if only, I had nothing to say,
I could just murmur and walk far away
Instead I write to spend my new day
doing so with no acclaim and no pay!

This life can be so mysterious indeed
first you may refuse to stop or plead
Yet time brings its own eternal whip
a cut each little time you dare slip!

No great solace lasts more than a week
future may grant but tis' only a peek
A sight given to beg the mind to see
To climb the tallest mountain to plea!

Of course the world cries out to stop
toss away the fine broom and dirty mop
With much deeper sinister cry and hue
dire threats blast you right on cue!

Gladly if only, I had nothing to say,
I could just murmur and walk far away
Instead I write to spend my new day
doing so with no acclaim and no pay!

Robert J. Lindley, 07-15-2015

Note-- No serious complaining my friends.  I write poetry because
it is in my blood. Acclaim and/or pay would just be icing on the cake
 were they ever to appear. I expect only to be read and if thats all-fine by me.

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2015

Details | Icing On The Cake Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Icing On The Cake

The Pelican flew 
Right, quick turn left.. icing on
The windshield.. gracious

Copyright © Sara Kendrick | Year Posted 2010

Details | Icing On The Cake Poem | Create an image from this poem.

This Northern Sky is Drenching Us and I Fear I've Forgotten My Name.

My name has been forgotten since last September, it's falling, decorating doorways and
digging splinters into the soles of my feet....

His skin crawls, I want to know where he thinks he's going, I wonder if he thinks he's
taking me...

I wonder if he thinks I'll follow.

There's no icing on the cake and the bed's not made yet, it's mid-morning, 

(it's raining again, Dear)

and blankets are mumbling dreams to wrinkled sheets as the mattress constantly gets my

name wrong.

God, he's soaking wet and my towels are somewhere missing, wrapped around my head, I can
muffle this, his voice doesn't resonate so loudly through

last week

(it never rained then, Dear, never a drop on Wednesday)

it's still September, it's twenty months past knowledge and intelligence is simply thirty
days away, I know he's familiar with doing this again and I'm not crazy


but I'm well aware of the way to get there, I've been following him since


the August that dusted across my smile when he finally learned how to kiss me.

I whisper this as Autumn falls, I'm catching leaves on my tongue, pretending snowflakes
will save me, sometimes death is the shade of the seventeen strands of my hair that
captured summer and I wonder 

how that feels

when he runs his fingers through my curls.

I sleep next to him, his scent erases my name but his lips mumble me, his arms hold me
behind the doors that went missing last January, and I think that maybe there might be
snowflakes in the shadows that are created by candlelight as he tries to be different,
when he makes an attempt to breathe me in, I don't exhale, I don't ever

close my eyes, I only taste regret on the tip of my tongue as 


rolls off my lips

and follows him straight out of the dreams that will be argued in the morning

when I'm stuck in the doorways that remember winter

as September forgets my name.

Copyright © JeanMarie Marchese | Year Posted 2008

Details | Icing On The Cake Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Regretting Cake Takes Two

Regretting Cake Takes Two

Rachael looked sheepishly like a hawk in disguise claws clenched meticulous sharpened
yet hidden her sullen face pressing wrinkled no motion frosted lips the icing on the cake
It had meant to be such a happy occasion armistice peace offering one last final relaunch resolution presented in vain but sourced from a chalice of communion composed in intent

Morten had gathered firewood and lit the old oven smoke in the chimney dust and grime
on his face then he mixed cream flour eggs cherries chocolate and an olive branch in mind
He considered in jest to add some laxative to the mix to loosen things up since her words and emotions at times lacked flow but constipation or not he refrained from his mischief

She had never been a sparkling fountain of words silence prevailed for a flash of eternity 
now her eyes shone motionless darkness a skill she had refined polished and crafted on
stifling securing control ‘I am not having cake I am on a diet ‘how could he have known
when they had not shared bed table or kitchen but when she prized a priceless expression

Morten gathered the picture no kilo-joules in no conveyance of meaning out from rigidified
hollow rims of the shrivelled furrow crumpled crunched up jaw depicting the moment and
much of her tune ‘Look it is cherries not belladonna berries adorning the cake’ he tried for a joke not ‘slim line super fast’ he thought while time kicked forth in slow motion and rigor

Black Forest Gateau still slightly frozen quite balanced it seemed but the metaphor dawned of an ‘Inuit’ concealed veiled in pelted lingo exchanging words with a bubbling ‘Sangoma’
again and once more repelled by the icy speechless complexion excommunicated exchange
caked in rime memories misunderstandings vapours slowly condensing prismatic encounter

Rachel propelled the propitiatory present meant to reconcile straight into his face where it
congealed source essence and plight of what was fading had faded long lost colour for bad
Morten had always enjoyed a slice of cake or three for good measure as food for the soul
now he regretted the cake and the cherries history treaded paths and the party was over

It was fortunate that he had baked with a last effort of passion to retrieve what had soured utilized ‘Sprinkled Star Dust’-vanilla sugar cinnamon powder not ‘super Glue’-concrete mix
to rise and flow with the occasion Morten retreated long overdue a badge of injured honour left on his face he’d get over regrets of the baking and the smeared rancid captured throw 

But for now and that moment the low blow of projectile remorse left Morten with plenty 
to ponder with no comforted pleasure only misgivings anguish and a pang of regret

08th August 2016

Copyright © Kai Michael Neumann | Year Posted 2016

Details | Icing On The Cake Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Winter Kittens

She came in flying sheet of ice an icing on the cake
For that matter idle chatter frisky kitten chilly cold
Oven ready eyes are beady dough is steady simple bake

Funny spicy squashy swishy kitty kitten beauty bold
Feel the hammer on the tamer Blakie beeper well done
Susie Moosie silky milky fickle trickle stories told

That is good for Louise Lucy get a nosy beetle bun
Horny Forney makes a journey on a mushy maudlin street
Eddie uncle cried uncle beyond all this fiddle fun

Spoony Fanny  ice of fire had a bun in oven kit
Paul the swoony took a Cooney out of a meaty stew
Pummeled horses ran onto borsches   Kitti  kitties fully fit

Icy darkness gives all souls a perky kitten mew
This closes scores of stooges give the poor devil his due.

Copyright © RAJAT KANTI CHAKRABARTY | Year Posted 2014

Details | Icing On The Cake Poem | Create an image from this poem.

switched on

Not a switch 
To turn off 
Then back on 
At beck and call 

Push one way 
Then the other 
Words meaningless 
Without voice 
Obey when spoken to 
did it work

A relationship 
More like a slave 
Do I exist 
Maybe invisible 
Need glasses 

Awakening light 
Pressed too many times 
Icing on the cake 
Let me speak 
Will you 

I am 
On the wall 
Turned off

Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2013

Details | Icing On The Cake Poem | Create an image from this poem.


Life is like a cake,
depending on how you bake.
Whatever is you center in life,
will either lead to love or strife.
The center, or cake,
that leads to life is Jesus.
The icing being blessings he bestows upon you.
So, have Jesus as the center,
and life can only become better.
Relationships, success, comfort,
is all icing on the cake.

Bible Verse:
Matthew 5:6 "Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
for they will be filled."

Copyright © Hanna Potter | Year Posted 2015

Details | Icing On The Cake Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Icing on the Cake

ICING ON THE CAKE Mountains, valleys, rivers and trees Flowers, sunsets, birds and bees Sunlight, moonlight, stars and sky Creeks and streams that gurgle by Rainbows, waterfalls, colorful leaves Plants, animals and the big blue seas Butterflies, dragonflies, prairies and lakes All add to the icing on this cake !

Copyright © Lenna Walker | Year Posted 2017

Details | Icing On The Cake Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Escape From A Hoarder

After the marriage It started real slow Collecting so much I didn’t even know I have always lived A very organized life So I thought I could Live as a hoarder’s wife Since my top quality Is good organization It shouldn’t be difficult To organize the situation Well I was sure fooled Until I became trapped With clutter all around Covering every little gap The man I was with I didn’t actually know Had been a hoarder From childhood years ago I’m from another background A loving family - lots of kin With many years on my own Raising all of my children It felt like quicksand As I began to slowly seep I tried to climb out Before I sunk too deep I discovered a hoarder Holds other issues too More than I could handle Or even really cared to I think one icebreaker Might probably be When the hoarding extended To him hoarding me There was no room for visitors Nor family or friends But the icing on the cake Was not seeing my grandchildren I had to make an escape And I tried to be nice and kind I’d prefer to be distant friends To free my heart and mind I prayed every moment For strength to pull through Leaving it in God’s hands Is what I always do My family and friends Were always there for me Standing by my decision And ensuring my certainty As I started to climb out Of this bad situation Holding my head above A possible suffocation God sent a ray of sunshine With a warm gentle touch One felt a few times before And always did so much Releasing my inner joy With a drop of golden sun Is such a wonderful gift For the new journey I’ve begun Florence McMillian (Flo)

Copyright © Florence McMillian | Year Posted 2011

Details | Icing On The Cake Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Start climbing my HABIT

What's happened? You've been taken by my habit? A
Seen as fake, or are you awake?                         H
What's that? I just said it! I called it my HABIT!         y
Check mate, start moving for your own sake,             m
Next remove and prove ya can change your own fate,     G
And stop making the same stupid lame mistakes,            N
My words came and remain as icing on the cake,              I
You may be late, evaluate your state and create,               B
Routines....! Ya gotta be a fiend, ya know what I mean.       M 
Is this all a dream? As I stream meanings it doesn't seem,        L
Are these my thoughts and views, point of views?                 C
Or views I see and believe as news?                                     t
For the masses as life flashes by,                                          r
Goodbye when someone dies?                                                a
Should you even put that down in pen? Because,                        t
Consciousness never dies, don't rely,                                        S<<1111<<<
Ever on mainstreams ignorant lies!                                                        >>>
So as I'm rhyming, get started and START CLIMBING>>>>>>>>>>>>> 
After that mindset like a martyr, 
Invest in what's being sent with a bit of laughter, 
But beware, my writings are from the future for you to grasp,
Nastier and out last the distant past, 
Shooting fast and subliminally going within ya,
In combinations of words, probably unheard,
Yes sir, asserting spurts, metaphorically going global!

>>1111>>Quincy Mac<<1111<<

date written: 25.11.2015

Copyright © Quincy Mac | Year Posted 2015