Best Shortbread Poems
Your house still smells like you:
Warm shortbread and lavender soap -
Comforting and agonizing.
Your plants still bloom,
Perched beside the window
Where the kettle waits to be filled.
But your rocking chair is still
And all is quiet.
I could have fallen to pieces
Like a hand-blown vase
Hurled against green walls
Or dropped on old floorboards
Through fingers slick with shock.
But you sewed me up
With words gone by.
Your remnant thoughts
(So similar to thoughts I've had)
Penned in your slanted scrawl,
Filling pages with perfect rhymes
And clever observations.
Here you'll live forever
In vibrant verses and lilting lines.
And I'll live here too
Until the last salty drop
Lands on the final page.
I love your heathered highlands,
steep cliffs and rugged islands,
hedges and gardens under
rainclouds of grey.
Old steeples rise above
those small rural towns I love;
your hillsides of sunny yellow,
rolled bales of hay.
Pipers will play their part
stirring each Scottish heart
binding together a nation
drenched with pride.
"Scotland the Brave" is ringing,
dancers are highland flinging -
proud Scottish hearts are singing,
joy wells inside.
O, highland games of yore
with racers and tug-of-war,
the cabers are tossed asunder
by mighty men.
I love your farmlands rustic,
mountains and lochs majestic,
as kilts of many tartans
hike through the glen.
Pipers will play their part
stirring each Scottish heart
binding together a nation
drenched with pride.
"Scotland the Brave" is ringing,
dancers are highland flinging -
proud Scottish hearts are singing,
joy wells inside.
Castles with ancient hist'ry,
Celt runes of ancient myst'ry,
we sing an "Auld Lang Syne"
and toast Robbie Burns.
Clans clad in plaid will whistle
fondly of Lion and Thistle,
dressing with tartan kilts
their wee bonnie bairns.
Hands high, your dancers dance -
crossed swords, I'm in a trance,
pipes heard for miles
with that old familiar blare.
St. Andrews' cross - the flag is
don't ask what's in the haggis!
Just eat your shortbread
and be glad you were there.
//These reflect some of my favorite memories from the 6 months I lived in Scotland, in 1990. I miss her dearly and hope I may be able to return some day. These words may be sung to "Scotland the Brave", a beloved anthem of Scottish national pride. You can hear it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KzK2PWVQYX0
The tempo of this recording is much faster than I prefer, but I include it here in case you have never had a chance to hear this wonderful patriotic song. //
Written 24 Mar 2021
Why, do we call it
Something it’s not
If we’re going to name things
Let’s give it, some thought
If it’s called a chilli
Then why is it so hot
And I can say this
A guinea pig, is not
A prairie dog
He only digs holes
But this dog belongs
With rodents and moles
If you eat an elder berry
You won’t get to retire
But a taste for them
You must acquire
If I strike a ball
And this gets me pissed
In real life, I hit it
But in baseball, I missed
That horned toad
Isn’t a wizard
Not even a frog
It’s just a lizard
A pencil with lead
That’s just a myth
It’s really graphite
That we write with
A simple door mouse
Is really neither
It’s just a squirrel
Taking a breather
It’s not a firefly
Lighting the dark
It’s only a horny beetle
That has the spark
And who gives us silk
Not that silkworm
It’s really caterpillars
That wiggle and squirm
Bears have no pouch
But Koala bears do
It’s a marsupial
I thought you knew
To some this may not
Be a big deal
But wasn’t Achilles
Really a heel
That majestic bald eagle
His head is not bare
And that speedy jackrabbit
Is really a hare
A Turkish bath
Invented by a Roman
And catgut intestines
From sheep abdomen
A shooting star
That isn’t right
It’s always been
A meteorite
A peanut a nut
You would presume
Nope, not a chance
It’s a legume
A Douglas fir
Is only a pine
And that funny bone
It’s not, by design
Cucumbers and tomatoes
This is a hoot
They are not veggies
They’re really a fruit
A duck bill is not
A duck’s paper money
And bees didn’t make
My little honey
Hamburgers are made
With beef and not pork
And how come those hot dogs
At strangers don’t bark
Sometimes you get
A really dumb waiter
But not in a restaurant
It’s an elevator
Eye tooth is a dog’s tooth
But not in his eye
This kind of name
Just makes me cry
A killdeer is not roadkill
That’s just absurd
It really is
A wading bird
Duck weed is a water lily
Dog wood is a bush
An ear wig is an insect
And your ass is a tush
Shortbread is a cookie
And a jumping bean is a seed
And things we misname
Only tend to mislead
BOEMS by JA 134
STORIES IN POTTERY
Bluebirds above the azure lakes
Burleigh cups - willow pattern trees in gold leaf -
Once with mashed Sichuan oolong,
And on their side plates, shortbread tiffin,
While nephews in white laughed loudly and played tennis on the lawn.
George V Silver Jubilee mug and plate (1910-1935)
Found by slum clearance machines
In a small kitchen overlooking the slipway at Wallsend -
The mug was dropped once and chipped
On the stone floor, toasting the returned Mauretania -
The plate was never used again,
The Mauretania was never used again.
Chipped but uncracked ; dust coated, but loved.
Shapes and pictures that hold more than hot tea.
Saucers deep and smooth, or shallow and scalloped
With painted delicate petals.
With oolong long cooled,
Cups with flared bell-mouths buried
Under crumpled newspaper stuffed
In soapboxes advertising Daz flakes
slurped cream teas
chewed shortbread
thumbed through travel magazines.
Chicken curry worry about finances
of dinners on the table consisting of
bank statements eat paper water vapour
smoke out the room bloom gloom monsoon
of tears flood of blood crashing wave frequency
in the crooked shack in The middle of nowhere.
Stairs enhanced mechanical bannisters coiling round the
metal frames of this game disdain.
Retain my shivers quivers kitchen livers blisters serious series of rhymes that just shoot out like bullets through a glass canvas
We're at the bottom of the stairs
So take some wine and shortbread with you as you make your way through the misted night of lights blue ambience playing like a cutscene of dreams gleam let your imagination run away with you.
Lemon shortbread tastes no better on a sunny day than a rainy day but wind is inclement conditions in which to eat a flan. ? Stare not at a wandering ivy bead plant for it is intelligent enough to understand that a dishcloth cannot cook in a microwave. Never stick a twig in a cup of tea as it might frighten the passing cucumber family whose strides reach five hundred miles an hour. Even on ice. For every toothpick there is an iced bun. And over alot of coffees discussion is not a relevant useful thing as wavering kebabs on boom clouds sumasault over the ray sharks. Hahahaha and now I will eat a pickle. I carried it for eons in a suitcase. Destroy not. Waste not. And be at one with an illuminated bus stop. Felon feet fetching. *** fraternities. *** trepidation. *** talismanic tantric trees talking xxxx xenophobic *** ha
Form:
I love girl scout cookies!
Whew! I’m glad I got that off my chest.
Personally I think that trefoils and tagalongs are the best
I love the taste of shortbread and that peanut butter crunch BUT
in a pinch I’ll eat a thin mint…or that one with coconut.
And even though the increase in price sometimes makes me pause
I gladly hand over the money…
after all…it goes to a good cause.
This year they added a new flavor destined to make me fat
They put lemon glaze on the shortbread…OMG…Imagine that!
Each Lemon Up cookie has an intention…a mission
an ambition…a lofty goal
Each one is imprinted with a message
to be imprinted on my soul.
They tell me I’m a leader…I’m a risk taker
unlike the trefoil or tagalong…
that I’m an innovator
a go getter
they tell me I am strong…
Which is why when I took out my first lemon up
I was taken aback…appalled
When I read the message on my cookie
and it told me…I am bald.
“Although it’s true, what an odd message to put on a cookie.” I said to Deborah
She smiled and said, “Jim…you’re getting old
your cookie doesn’t say I am bald
your cookie says, I am bold.”
“Well that makes more sense.” I laughed
as I boldly ate my cookie…
every bite
hoping next year they’ll add one with carrots
to help improve my sight.
Eat some chocolate
Drink some wine
And the night is mighty fine
Grab some shortbread
And some cider
And a roasted turkey slider
Have some eggnog
And some cake
Disregard the stomach ache
Dip some fruit in crème anglaise
And enjoy the holidays
In an increasingly competitive world
It’s easy to stop:
Go to the shop
Buy a tea with a chocolate shortbread
Bury your head.
Starting out when everyone else did years ago
Another wrinkle, another blemish
Its easy to stop:
I should be teaching
Not studying
Employing
Not applying
Well, for 15 years I paid my taxes
Is that enough?
She’s foreign and she’s got a job
She applied from her country and came here and started work immediately
She lost her job, got another in a week
She changed her career, didn’t like it, changed back again and got a job
Wet washing smelling from being too long in the machine,
Cleaning the microwave plate,
Picking up broken toy handcuffs from the floor,
No time to clear the paraphernalia that comes through the door
Odd socks strewn carelessly
Dirty children’s underpants staring up at me
Empty WOTSIT packets under the sofa
The rush of London passes me by
I sigh,
Another day
Of trying to be someone
Trying to achieve something
Trying to fulfil
Losing the will
Do it I will!!!
I’m still
Today I’ll wrap up
And put away
Until tomorrow
Do you mean short as in not tall
Maybe short as in bad tempered
How about shortening for best shortbread overall
Or taking a short-cut for going unhampered
Short-hand, for taking notes at speed
Short lived as in not long to last
Short stop and short slip in sporting games you need
To stop short is what I intend to do so hold fast
So many short’s to write about, If I do them all, will definitely not be short.
Penned 31 May 2013
How can a cookie be solid and heavy
yet be a crispy delight
Taste of heaven in each bite
melts on your tongue
vanilla and pecan
as you crunch and chew
Savor the flavor mellow and whole
magic shortbread cookie a wonder to behold
Not so sweet but so much fun to eat
Pecan Sandies a true cookie treat
A favorite off the grocery shelf
so delicious and made by elves.
I am from modest trailer park play
From dandelion picking in the neighbors field of yellow weeds, to building snow caves in the yard
I am from a short drive to Grandma's’ house,
A place of domino games and shortbread cookie making
I am from long nights of monopoly and
tears shed
Over the loss of yet another game to an elder sibling.
I’m from a change of heart,
Two fell in love and one found the other’s source of peace and truth
I’m from calm, serious personalities,
and the outgoing, energetic opposites
from “I call shotgun!” and “Don’t sweat the small stuff.”
I’m from the yearly viewing of It’s a Wonderful Life
And watching tears flow down the cheeks of a strong Father, as the end credits start to play,
From coming to understand the importance of your impact on the people around you.
I’m from a love of nature and genetic food expertise
Shaped by outdoor adventures, and a seemingly inherited trait of mad baking skills
From enjoying steaming hot chocolate in grandpa's tiny camper,
To canning in the midst of generations of knowledgeable hands.
My church, my town, my family and my scars
A tiny town which will always be home, a base of unquestionable love through the fear of surgery
From the belief of a seed, to the revealed knowledge of a stalwart tree.
I am from those precious moments of everyday life, faith, support and conquered fear
And this is merely the beginning.
Form:
Darling
With Christmas day almost here
I wondered do the angels share this time of year
Do they hang Christmas lights
To make heavens Christmas bright
Are all the stars that i see
Twinkling lights from their Christmas tree
Is their gift a fallen feather with the ends painted gold
Or are they all sewn together making a quilt for the cold
Do they have garland made from twigs and berries
Or shortbread cookies topped with a cherry
Are the stockings made from fluffy white feathers
Do you sing in twos or gather together
Walking down the quaint city street entering the sweetshop,
Oh yes! Hershey’s Almond Milk Chocolate tasty flavor
Sweetheart chooses sweet licorice and hot fudge brownie delight,
Sweetie pie and I flavor sweetmeat crystallized fruit.
Sweet tooth such a happy mouth vibrato to have;
Healthy sweet corn with sweet pepper and sweet-and-sour
Rest in front of my Dear Heart and I with a sweet pea,
Sweet cherry edible fruit on ice cream dessert, oh yum!
Sweet sultan annual herb varicolored flower in garden
Touches sweet acacia shrub fragrant flowers for perfumery,
Enjoying sweet basil on my sweet potato pie with my Sugar Love
Sweet nothings sound to wife trompe l’oeil painted photographic reality.
Sweet cicely herb white flowers brighten garden sipping
Sweet cider with cinnamon and raspberry shortbread warm
Soul with endearments, together speaking love honestly husband
Wife meshed together in all things sharing sweet clover; blessed.