I placed her gently in the oven,
my yeasty buttered bun.
Has, happiness, she found,
as she's toasted, golden brown,
as I, myself, have done,
baking in the morning sun?
Wanting a little fun
Depart on a run
Seeking bakery pastry buns
Tasty and sweet
Jogging through the village street
Enduring the athletic heat
Conquering the feat
Can not be beat
Enjoying the run
For pastry buns
Not caring where you are from
Only greeted with a ‘welcome’
Take a bite
Time is not tight
During the bun
Run
Done for fun
Fattening those bottom cheeks
While everyone speaks
Bragging every week
About climbing the peaks
Featured on the bun
Run
Done
For fun
Where Danishes are great
Even know competitors gained too much weight
Field with display of green catkins in the candlelight
From the hidden chamber the dormant hair-bun loosened
Foam and current from the sea through the fidgety foliage
Night in a machination to summon the lightning clouds
___________________
September 9, 2025
Little kitty sitting on a fabric bun,
What is that your little paws are on?
A little fishy made of blue,
it's clear it means a lot to you.
Little puppy friend by your side,
open expression, nothing to hide.
How adorable you are, all of you,
You, your fishy, and your puppy friend, too.
It was the night before Christmas, and I couldn't sleep,
I got out of bed without so much as a peep.
And headed to the kitchen for something to eat,
buck naked, except for the slippers on my feet.
I didn't dare turn on the nightlight and wake my wife,
for the last time I did that, she threatened my life.
The house was dead quiet; I could not hear a sound
as I ventured downstairs, feeling my way around.
I got to the living room, stumbling a few times,
then I heard music that sounded like Christmas chimes.
So, I went to the window and pulled back the drapes,
thinking the neighbors were playing some Christmas tapes.
I forgot I was as naked as a jaybird;
till I heard the loudest scream I had ever heard.
The church quire was midnight-caroling on my lawn,
and in plain view, I stood bare-assed, not a stitch on.
Judging by the faces I saw scrambling to leave,
I don't think they'll ever forget this Christmas Eve.
It was never my intent to flash anyone,
I simply wanted a ham and cheese on a bun.
I found the white butter bun,
My eyes tasted it within a glance;
Why mind craved with my tongue
For a tasty hunt...
My eyes tried to swallow the
Silky butter bun,
My almond eyes focused on the topest bun
It's hanging near the blue wide roof..
Among the white cotton candies.
My little fingers pointed the butter bun,
"I want it "
My order vanished with a reply:
You wanna eat the Moon?
white milky moon bloom
dazzles eyes of peace questers
oozes odium
August 23, 2020
Note:Haiku - Color With Alliteration Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Tania Kitchen.
Stan Jex would have had a great physique
only problem was it wasn't complete.
Doctors were confounded
totally dumbfounded
to discover Stan had only one cheek.
How I love my honey bun,
soft and buttery,
warm and swirled with cinnamon,
frosted heavily.
Glaze that stays right on my plate -
watch me drizzle it
over all my sweet dessert –
every little bit!
You can bake one up for me.
You could make a ton!
Then I’d call you happily
my sweet honey bun.
April 14, 2020
for Caren Krutsinger's Write A Rhyming Poem For Fun Poetry Contest
Bumpty Bummen
Bumble Bun
Bounce your way to me
That bounce to swirl my whole damn world
and bounce your bum to me
I was damaged with a heart like ice.
You entered my life and in a trice
had melted my frozen layers
one by one. I've become
hot as a furnace next
your skin, my soul
twin. Let's begin
to live as one,
my dearest
honey
bun.
There are no clouds in the night sky.
The flute harmonizes with the zither only for a string to break.
A red bean bun and wine.
Slowly munching on the red bean bun, memories are revisited.
In a dazed mind -
People singing, laughing, dancing and celebrating,
but the person is alone.
A thick sweetness resides, where sour pangs make their way through one's heart.
There are no stars in the night sky.
A sword pierces through the heavens,
Towards extreme tribulation, yet the sky is still so clear.
The earth is grey.
The breeze brings with it the air of reminiscence.
A bright moon twinkles conspicuously in the night...
- Thinking of home
When I have a hamburger on a bun
The toppings for me are different
Forget the lettuce and tomato
That is not my choice
Instead my bun is decorated in my own way
First comes the bun, then the burger
Along with two slabs of cheddar cheese
This is my favourite way to start
It's not always number one with me
Sometimes I will have relish
Makes the burger taste great
They are a good combo together
My taste buds hve now discovered
Another topping I enjoy
It is wine sauerkraut
Second choice to the cheese
I enjoy all of these condiments
Upon my burgerit is a treat
Dressed in several different ways
Oh boy! What a delight
HASTY
MATEY
BABY
MAYBE
RAZOR
LABOR
DIMPLY
DOLLY
YOUNG POPS
TONGUE FLOPS
My son is growing a man bun.
I don’t know how big it’ll be when he’s done.
He’s only sixteen you know and at his age it’s fun.
So I’ll just watch but if it gets too big, I’ll have to run.
My son is growing a man bun.
I don’t know how big it’ll be when he’s done.
He’s only sixteen you know and at his age it’s fun.
So I’ll just watch, but if it gets too big, I’ll have to run.
I told him to grow a man beard, a big bushy one, like mine.
But, he tells me that’s not for him as he’ll look like a bum.
What! Is he saying his dad is a bum and dumb?
Well, he’s a kid; he’ll be different when he grows into a man!
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