Biscuits like friends
I'd like to portray
Are best rediscovered
On the rainiest day
The kettle it steams
The teabag is dry
The sofa side table
Is catching your eye
Biscuits like friends
Can combine and renew
To chat or be still
With some fireside brew
Should I dunk and indulge
Maybe snap, slurp or crunch
God, for moments like these
I just thank you a bunch
What‘s better than a biscuit?
Hard to debunk
Treasure trunk funk
Should you let
It get wetter
Would you dare risk it?
The trick a quick dunk
Or could flunk..flick..kerplunk..
Mushy chunk sunk..messy junk
Slushy slunk..in the tea you drunk
So at your leisure
Pleasure one’s self
Don’t regret your stealth
Forget your health
Wealth beset on the shelf
So feeling restive?
Yearn for a digestive?
Appealing…suggestive
No shock..dark choc
What else will cut the mustard
With a brew…for a few bob
Recurring theme..does seem
Will always dream
About a custard cream
Almost sob…as I Lob
A hob-nob in me gob
Ta pour more cha
In fine fettle
Be a slob
Turn on the kettle
Bickies in the jar
On the sofa settle
Sins within tins
Spurn concern
Ignore the racket
As
Hats do doff
Knew from the off
On a roll
The sole goal
Quaff another cuppa
Down your cake hole
Scoff the whole packet!
The Queen has a navy
That floats in her gravy,
It’s sharp and its clear,
But it’s sure tough to steer,
For the rudders get stuck
In that thick, grayish muck,
And the lads in the stern
Have a penchant to yearn
For the bright shining waters
All popping with otters,
Yet they smile as they sail past
Her Majesty’s repast,
And wink as they think
That they’d better not sink,
For if sailors go down
In the gravy, they’ll drown,
And you can’t hear them yelp
Through the lard for some help,
And therefore it’s wise
On the ship to keep eyes,
And they sail towards a biscuit
And think that they’ll risk it,
‘Midst butters and jams,
And kippers and clams,
On a crumbly crag
Raise Her Majesty’s flag,
And with hearts beating proud
Face the smiling crowd,
For a deed large or small,
It is better than all,
If it’s done with conviction,
Not merely good diction,
And protecting the table,
Or more, if you’re able,
Brings honor unseen
To country and Queen.
A wee little biscuit softly implored
a gruff, hard-hearted and tuberous yam,
"oh, why, my dear friend, must you be so hard?"
and the yam replied, "I am what I am!"
"In my kitchen, I will not have this chat",
I said, as, into the oven they went.
"Now I'm soft", said yam, an hour after that.
"But I'm hard", I heard from the oven vent,
"...if, my dear yam, I might beg your pardon,
while this heat made you warm up and get soft,
I had to wait, and burned up to harden",
said the biscuit as the black smoke did waft.
Poem idea? Don't make my mistake,
or you will burn your house down while you bake.
The world is full of broken biscuit people
Julie got pregnant on a whim
She said they used the withdrawal method
He withdrew in London while she was still in Manchester
It would bring them closer together, she said
So he moved to America to prove this theory
She decided he would be back when the whim was three
Where there's a whim, there's a way
Broken biscuit people are philosophical
It’s in their DNA
He’s coming back
Ten years gone he’s still coming back
Julie sat down with a cup of tea and her favourite digestives
The biscuit always tasted better when she dunked it into her tea
But the biscuit broke, and her life unravelled before her
He was never coming back
The words finally hit home
The world is full of broken biscuit people
Broken biscuit people.
broken token
despise disguise
~
holly-Holy
trouble double
~
eating bleeding
sausage biscuit
5/1/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2024©
Tea leaves, tea bags which is the way to go,
Square, round or triangular, stirring them to and fro.
Milky, sugary or a builders brew,
Have you thought which best suits you.
Whichever you choose it has to be hot,
I prefer tea to coffee but I will have whatever you've got.
A biscuit would be really nice,
But not the chocolate ones they are such a shocking price.
There are lots of English things to see,
But nothing is better than a nice cup of tea.
I can see it in your.eyes
As they rest in silver spoons
I can see it in your smile
As the lamp where your face skin lies tautly stretched filters through the lips
Are you somewhere feeling lonely
Nope cause the chainsaw drips with pieces I made of you and there bagged and leaning against the wall
Or is someone there with you
It’s okay I will be sending more your way
Hello
Not me you should be looking for
No risk no reward
No time to be coy
Just take what you want
Sit back and enjoy
(Sung To The Song "I Will Always Love You" By Whitney Houston...From the film..The Bodyguard)...(1992)
If you do stay
You'll be tempting me to your way
In the bin you now go
I can't risk having you here everyday
Coz I will want to eat you
I will want to taste you
You
My biscuit you
Mmmmmm
Loaded with calories
And the fat thighs given to me
So goodbye
I won't cry
Plus my weight plays havoc with my knees
Coz I will want to bite you
I will want to nibble you
You
You could stay if fat free
And I lost all the weight you gave to me
And hadn't given me chin number three
I favoured you, but now set myself free
And I will always love you
Your soft chocolate goo
Your brown crumbly crumb base
Your sweet biscuit round face
Your taste that I still crave
Each small crumb I would not waste
My
Biscuit, I miss you
I'll always
I'll always want you.
Change The Record Poetry Contest
Sponsor : Natasha L Scragg
Written 15.10.21
I watch you
Every morning
Coffee and a biscuit
All for you
Maybe remember me
A biscuit would be nice
So I can eat with my friend
Things were quiet, relaxed and calm,
Things were rosy and fine,
Nothing was going to turn it around,
Nothing from out or inside,
And then, from nowhere, her upper lip quaked,
She hid a small grin out of view,
And her eyes softly scanned those all around,
Her eyes both hid what she knew,
And she could see the moment of their discontent,
A fidget in a seat here and there,
Her eyes could see the library of people,
Shifting around on their chairs,
And one by one, like a house built of cards,
She saw the smiles all sink like a ship,
Because it was she, with her gluteal guitar,
Who let a silent, most violent one, rip.
There was a Rubenesque gypsy from France,
Who made love to all the pirates of Penzance!
Alas~condemned to walk the plank.
Till she flashed her voluptuous, sun-tanned flank!
Captain so pleased~no plank,just asked,
His "Sea Biscuit" to dance!
July 11, 2019
8:20pm PST
Formerly entitled His Sea Biscuit
Every Biscuit Has Its Day
By Tom Wright
8/8/2006
I tossed a biscuit to my old hound,
It conceptually then became a dog biscuit,
He refused to eat it
So actually that made it a bad dog biscuit,
He did bury it for later though
So technically I’d be correct in saying
That every dog oops biscuit has its day!
It must be all in how you wop the can!!
Tom
Biscuits
Biscuits in the oven,
Biscuits in the pan.
Gravy in the skillet,
Shortening in a can.
Good old Southern Breakfast,
Ham and bacon too.
Pancakes on the platter.
What things can Momma do?
Orange juice fresh from squeezing;
Coffee in the pot.
Some like cream and sugar;
Some just like it hot.
Love is in the oven;
Love is in the pan.
Your Momma sure does love you,
As only Momma's can.
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