Long Apple pie Poems
Long Apple pie Poems. Below are the most popular long Apple pie by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Apple pie poems by poem length and keyword.
I was an inscrutable, capricious mystery writer, like a pure mystery of days;
And I had composed best selling novels, like westering sun's scarlet phase.
An unparalleled passion for writing, had for quite long been the motivation,
Behind novels which captured hearts, like pink clouds, drifting in formation.
My office desk faced the picture window, near the border of riotous blooms;
And sunny views enriched often eager eyes, owing to birds of many plumes.
Friends were a forever force in my life, like the natural floods of floundering,
Or as sun and moon meet in an eclipse, darkening heyday, with no warning.
Fairy-like forests, and fields of colored flowers, flamed with furious abandon,
Frequently, as fulgent family found one, to dazzle brighter than amber sun!
I lived in the house of mist mysteries, in haze shrouded, mighty mountains;
And each cherry dawn doled surprises, like roving redbirds in the thousands.
So sleepy in sun-drenched summer, my silent street was stained with hues,
In new modern, stylish, songbird days, like a gold treasure you cannot lose.
Neighbors would navigate narcissistic night, bearing an apple pie, or a joke;
Sharing fun and noisy laughter, like a blue undersea volcano, magma awoke.
Birds swept peaks of sculpted, stunning mountains, in the hot, daisy season,
And sky and the earth merged twice a day, in affinity hues of love cohesion.
The naked man orchid shivered with breezes, like quivery trees of November,
And Johnny Jump Up puckered at lemon sun, like a sour taste remembered.
In a sapphire sea near the mountains, a friend and I set out sailing one day,
As a youth follows wildest, golden dreams. Yet, heavy fog descended to stay.
Were we heading for wide open water, or drifting to shores of purple flowers?
That danger held a lovely mystery, like adventure during the nighttime hours.
Hour after rosy hour, we were drifting blind. Our motor had long since died;
Like green butterflies, questing for hours, in a place pink daisies lately cried.
We were afraid of being lost forever, so Pearl and I joined hands and prayed,
Also praying for our downhearted families, if fate's hand would not be stayed.
After many anxious, vagrant moments, a foghorn sounded, loud and so near;
Our desperate prayers were answered, by the voice of our Savior, very dear!
To Eat A Peach
Spring is here.
The delicate tree blossoms replace
the delicate white lights of Winter.
From the petals fruit will grow.
Pears, plums, apricots, cherries,
nectarines...
Peaches.
I set the unripe soft rose and yellow
orb on the windowsill.
Two days later I tenderly lift it
and gently squeeze its warmth before
I wash it.
Biting into it...
the sweet liquid is Ambrosia.
The juice runs down my chin onto
my tee.
I greedily suck the peach’s flesh dry.
I daydream as I munch.
Peach cobbler, peach pie with a lattice crust,
peach shortcake, peach muffins,
stewed peaches, peach tea bread,
slices on your cereal, slices in a bowl with cream.
OR...only for dessert?
How would a
chicken breast soaked in a peach marinade taste?
My taste buds begin chattering.
Summer’s here!
corn on the cob, okra, tomatoes:
small ones that pop in your mouth
and big beefy wedges that
garnish crisp celery slices, carrot medallions,
tender Bibb lettuce, sliced mushrooms, cucumbers,
asparagus, broccoli, Vidalia onions, cauliflower...
Watermelon, blueberries, cantaloupe,
strawberries, honeydews, raspberries...
Juicy hot dogs, spicy barbecue, thick charbroiled hamburgers,
hot German potato salad, 3-bean salad, macaroni salad,
potato chips and French onion soup dip,
soft pretzels dipped in brown mustard, popcorn...
chocolate chip cookies, Snickerdoodles,
strawberry shortcake,
chocolate cake with red, white and blue frosting for the 4th,
apple pie
— softball, Mom, doggies —
I awake with a start. There is drool
on my pillow.
Another day begins but it’s really
not another day.
It’s the same day I’ve been living
since 1 May 2017 ~
The day I let the dentist pull
out the last 5 teeth I had
in my lower jaw.
And as I come to consciousness
my tongue pushes
against and spills out over the
the soft toothless tissue that burns constantly
and is covered in a thick gooey saliva ~ place a
teaspoon of Elmer's
glue in your mouth ~ if
you care to have a taste
of my reality.
Summer’s here.
Clear your palate.
Clean your plate.
Barbara Dickenson
1 May 2018
- [ ]
Him or me? Sweetie who's it gonna be? You have me waiting, anticipating. This
question should not have you hesitating. I've sat back and listened to you explain. Your
need for me but love for "what-his-name?" It should not be so hard for you to decide. For
he keeps you on an emotional roller coaster ride. Take a look back when I was before him.
It's not difficult to comprehend. I was your honey. lover, friend. Just follow your heart and
follow what your body tells you. It's a start when you acknowledge I've never failed you.
Damn-it woman you hold the power. Who do you think about in lonely hours? Who do you
imagine touching you in the shower? You know I'm the one who goes deep. Sweetie you
know my love is unique. You know I'll do what he won't in the bedroom. You know when it
comes to you nothing is sexually taboo.
I'm the one who takes you out on the town. You know I like to go down. You know I'm
far from selfish in bed. Does he wake you up to morning head? Come on don't lie. Does he
gobble, make you hobble after eating your apple pie? Does he keep your kitty on a sexual
high? Does he flip, dip bite into your battleship? He probably see's it as invalid. So I know
he don't toss your salad. Baby you know what I'm about. Does he make you cry out in
ecstacy? When you're with him do you think of me?
Tell me, does he show you public affection? Was he there with you watching "Obama"
win the election? Is he there for you, share with you special moments in life? Will he
sacrifice his career? Does he whisper sweet words in your ear? Does he kiss the tip of your
nose? Surprise you with a rose? Does he massage your feet? Take you out to eat? Does
he make your heart smile? And to comfort you, would he walk a thousand miles? Does he
do these things and then some? No! He's silly and dumb! Always on the run, always on the
go and no! "Attention" he doesn't show! He don't know that I'm the one who understands. I
support your goals and plans. I know you like no other. You don't need advice from your
mother. She even knows I'll catch you if you fall. You know she see's me as her son-n-law.
Continued on pt 2
Note: Spoken word piece. Sometimes ladies you let that best male friend get away and
end up with th wrong man!
Chosen to be a perfectionist
all things in order
not out of order
the pantry is orderly
the shelves are amazing
the dishes are placed
neatly arranged with a homemade cake
perfectly amongst the race
clean clean clean away
no time wasted, non-worried faces
this is right, that is wrong
a perfect home
If it means being alone
straighten out items, neatness all around
when leaving, must come back to the cleanness
orderly you see, nothing is thrown around
If it is, you have to get down
seemed perfect in all that was done
the atmosphere is right
each day and night
shoes come off at the door
sinks are wiped down after repeated usage
no time for disorderly, nor items misplaced
a day to relax, some days are amazing
the perfectionist, having some patience
what a view being seen
overall, it's clean clean clean
neatness in appearance
nothing out of line
even the clock on the wall
cannot be the wrong time
a picture that is crooked
has to be straighten
don't keep them waiting
Some things are not outdated
not a lent on the floor
that cannot definitely be ignored
a life with the perfectionist
as time definitely goes by
sometimes asking, why? why? why?
the dinner invite, extended settings
just a piece of the delicious apple pie
the hand slightly was hit twice
barely hurt, a smile with love
no, not now, that is the dessert
just wait for the appetizers, the entrees
fancy elegant dinner plates are placed
gold silverware, decors, red flowers, and more
the table is so extraordinary
the view is so nice
the room is full of peace, love, and joy
If you're messy, you might not be invited anymore
oh well, the day has gone
all family, friends, and others went home
until the holidays come again
invitations are amongst limited
maybe next time the host will be the guest
and all, figuring out the rest.
The perfectionist.
Note:
Sometimes a perfectionist will change some guidelines.
Faith, Prayers. Jesus. Grace.
Can this be me? You?
orderly, clean, & neat.
Some people have said that cleaning can be mind relaxing. Also, a form of exercise because you're always moving. After the results, you can see the finishing.
An atmosphere that is suitable to live in.
The American Library Association
implores cognoscenti tubby alert
for impersonators, who
call themselves Ernie and Bert
took a page from Sesame Street Playbook
oft times accompanied
by a Soundcloud of dirt,
boot none other then Pigpen,
(who worked for Peanuts),
and pay-dirt, though
dismissed, cuz he did not exert
true grit, plus more seriously scandalous
sordid details suppressed kept from press,
(which scurrilous breach of conduct)
involved said scallywag
violating more than flirt
discovered in prurient compromised activity,
where his skin flute encircled,
with an ambrosia girt
transgressions possibly affected
public television station benefactors,
and sterling reputation of bottom line, nor hurt
locker talk (albeit via exaggerated mainly
to make a profit) sounding proper
sanctimonious Cliff (hanging) notes,
asper faux expected by
a "FAKE" trumpeting prophet,
sans motley crue comic
stripped of more'n
motion picture PG ratings,
hence future lurid, graphic,
banal, ampersand
(&) dressing room banter
muted, disallowed, and banned
so storied characters birthed by Charles Shulz,
(who passed away prior to near canned
aforementioned indiscretion debacle)
returning amidst fanfare hoopla
much as possible grand
jour "Making Peanuts Great Again" hand
diddly restoring full metal paperback jacketed
glory and apple pie order land
ding rebirth of cherished popular iconic
easy to digest bookworm feed
which unexpectedly, inadvertently,
and horrifyingly
brewed ferocious breed
on par with the Alaskan Bull Worm,
whereat armed guards
strategically stationed
at libraries entrances indeed
aware voracious young readers,
would pay no heed
to any obstacle, and such unstoppable
ravishing knowledge
hungry kids did exceed
capacity security details dashed away,
faster then Clifford
the big red dog re: oh speed
wagon in toto (oz suppose)
to escape paginated bound woes,
but especially to flee bozos
not tubby confused with Bezos -
(the richest cat on planet Earth),
whose cashiered spigot flows
née gushes without any need to faucet.
Black and blue boo boo bruises courtesy hurled Bobo box
No matter I sustained multiple contusions about the face and neck and minor head concussion after the missus tossed an unopened box of five apple pie stuff'd oat bites in my direction (what got whisked - as clocked by yours truly at lightspeed), nevertheless (whew), no permanent damage prevailed regarding the cherished goods.
While recuperating in the hospital bed,
I decided to craft incident report,
(yet refuse to implicate the missus)
quickly letting fingers
skitter across keyboard
couched with divine intervention,
cuz yours truly nearly got declared dead,
thus the following words quickly typed
before creative juices fled
despite skeptical readers,
who might immediately deduce
that I rightly ought to be
declared out of my talking head
thankful caring empowered
stalwart connections qua invaluable friends
gifted with emergency lifeline when pitted
with suicidal ideations, predilections,
utilizations fostering existential crisis,
hence resilience taught to thwart
self harmful and hurtful modus operandi
thru the dogma, ethos,
and faith of worthiness
and in remembrance of JED,
(whose founders lost
above mentioned son to suicide),
thus inadvertently halting epidemic,
whereby teens and young adults
offered mental health resources
by building resiliency and life skills,
promoting social connectedness,
and encouraging help-seeking
and help-giving behaviors
through nationally recognized programs,
digital channels, and partnerships,
as well as through the media
spreading the word
to cope against desire to annihilate self
(think nihilistic existentialism)
receiving immediate access
to forge an excellent outlook
reliable material broadcast
across social media platforms
exemplifying and identifying linkedin
ingenious and innovative modus operandi
such as promulgating hotline
flown like the goodyear blimp
videre licet zeppelin made of lead
clearly displaying credo
(which unfortunately never came to my aid -
just another statistic courtesy anorexia nervosa)
summed up as Ned:
A character education program that uses a cartoon character named NED to promote kindness and excellence in schools. NED is an acronym for "Never give up, Encourage others, and Do your best".
Oh the images we freeze in time
the sweet, sweet scents that bring recall
the sharp and painful longing that belongings bring
for those lost or lingering on sheets of lavender
on shelves of shaving mugs - Old Spice
soap roped in shower stalls.
Oh the images warmed and torn, sun burnt to brown
upon what's left of glossy crenulated sheets
showing frozen plumped out peeks of
blistering love, gape toothed girls
and sour apple dreams.
We freeze in time on scrapes and shards
on compasses far from the woodlands scene
the tobacco scent of Papa, his yellowed fingers
as they touched my dimpled chin,
blue eyes behind wire rims.
The sweet, sweet scents that bring recall
White Shoulder's between her wholesome breasts
Mother's satin, Chantilly drenched negligee
and father's black onyx ring
ah, I still have him.
The sharp and painful longing that belongings bring
guilty pleasures hidden from the public's tut-tuting eyes
hoarded in ornate boxes, or pressed between stout boards
relentless, heartless is the passing
passing into the frayed, worn fringes
of our dollop of mirrored time.
For those lost or lingering on sheets of lavender
with drawers of balsam pillows to recall the olden days
bring forth the buds which bloom on taffy and apple pie
do not forget the taste of the love
the cotton candy kisses
their first chocolate cone.
On shelves of shaving mugs - Old Spice
soap roped in shower stalls, no sense comes
without its call to memory. Oh you do not sit alone,
play all the old tunes from radio days
and invite your loved ones
to come home.
This is my form it is called Etcetera.
Definition: Write a line or a stanza, take from that line or stanza words in the
order they were written [ from 1 word to whole lines or phrases] begin your
next stanza with it continue until you have written using all the words in the
order written in the line or stanza being explored in depth in a stream of
internal dialogue. ALL poetic devises/tropes may be used INCLUDING internal
rhyme. The verse may be as long or short as you wish, no meter required, no
syllable count.
I would say Etcetera and Blitz are sub forms of Free Verse - Stream of
Consciousness - Etcetera- Blitz
Humanity is desperate for a taker
The archaic foundation is shaken and
Bitter worms are writhing from among the cracks
like a slow nightmare to overtake
mom's apple pie
Nature responding reaches its arms
to its Maker
With a plea traveling on stale wind
come back in this dark hour and see
the need for food and water
a reliable electrical source
Arms wrapped in tragedy see no color
Help is a word uttered only by the needy
Breathing a resuscitating breath that empowers the greedy
Opportunity its glass to the door
Enters with the ring of a bell
The lie approaching full term
has a nation on bed rest
while little green men stand ready to wet nurse
this idea with dissenter blood
This Vamp
This beast has the most intriguing
and beguiling of names
With trumpets and fanfare
This babe arises
NEW HOPE!
And with her the ages change
She plucks out your heart and leaves your eyes in
so you can watch her
She loves an audience and like a lustful perpetrator
She presses her pointy finger to your lips and says
Shhhh.... Don't you speak
If you move you die
When she is done she bandages your wounds
and goes on about how lucky you are
You've always been smarter than me John
There are your degrees
Your craft to make stretchy taffy of the truth
and set criminals free
BUT LOOK AT HER!
Naked post mortem pale
Piss drenched rats scurrying about her
Gnawing nudging prying her lips apart
Leaving a crap trail as they squeeze down her throat to
Feast on her heart(What a heart, the best there ever was)
So they can find their way out after they've gorged themselves on blood
You used to love her John.
She's a whore.
She's somebody's daughter, a mother to many.
For God's sake cover her body
Men in lab coats with a wave of inconvenience are summoned in
Their necks ebb and flow with inconspicuous snickering
Then everything stops suddenly
a pupil dilated hush covers the room
the silence surrendering to drops of drool wakening the frigid
Coroner's floor
You know who........ YOU KNOW WHO THIS IS!
Quick, get out your phones
Let's take a group selfie
You know who this is..... Don't you?
Her name starts with an A!
Cloudless the sky over beautiful water,
Sunlight at dawn as the day starts to break,
Open the blinds to let in the new day and,
Smile as the sunshine confirms they’re awake.
Croissants for breakfast with strong filter coffee,
Shower and dress to prepare for the day,
Get out the tourist guide, plan their adventure,
Join with the locals to make real their stay.
Walk in the countryside on a long ramble,
Visit a vineyard, high up in the hills,
Sample the product at end of the visit,
Several glasses, mop up any spills.
Boulevard cafes or old fashioned taverns,
Famous for seafood to try for their lunch,
What will their dinner be? guessing it’s chicken,
But not seen the menu, it’s only a hunch.
Shower for dinner, they’ll put on their glad rags,
Her in white dress, him in shirt and blue tie,
Orange juice, soup, they were right it’s then chicken,
Followed by cream on home made apple pie.
Wine with their dinner, they’re charging their glasses,
They had gin and tonic their aperitif,
Already they wonder what’s tomorrow’s dinner,
Will it be venison, pork, lamb or beef?
The dinner completed, a port or a brandy?
Or just filter coffee to wash it all down,
Only ten minutes to walk to the centre,
So now for a stroll to the centre of town.
Traditional bars full of tourists and locals,
A drink in a couple, it starts to go dark,
Chatting with bar staff about local venues,
Tomorrow they’ll go to a close water park.
Hand in hand stroll up the hill to the hotel,
A swift nightcap then in the nice hotel bar,
Up to the room to reflect on the first day,
And all the things that they’re enjoying so far.
Undress now for sleeping, the blinds closed til morning,
They lie down together and switch off the light,
The first day of holiday now is completed,
They’re so glad they came as they’re kissing goodnight.
The door locked behind them, their night is their own now,
The start of their holiday as they’d desired,
He holds her as she falls asleep on his torso,
His choice of this venue seems really inspired.
They swiftly are sleeping while leant on each other,
In love in this beautiful holiday place,
Tomorrow exploring more parts of the landscape,
No wonder they both sleep with smiles on their face!
The Day After,
Day after day, I pray for our Father to give this demon peace
Adam, I want you to know he does not bother me so,
his rage is his own, not mine,
---tormented by a word, he plasters on his face
words of sorrow, that haunted him for years
God Bless him, and the thin skin he lives in
he has no amo in that pistol he calls a pen
the movements, and the words he spews are too predictable
come sit by my side Adam, let's enjoy another slice of apple pie
together we can watch the mud splash from underneath his feet
look at the way he enjoys eating spoiled grapes
from the hands of his mangled up paparazzi cameltoe hoarders
For who does he think he is, attacking essence, that don't suit him
Adam, I have no problem when this demon speaks in tongues
I laugh at the ones who follow and uproar, his roar,
indecent knoeledge,
Why this demon cries and lies all night long? ---LET THEM ENJOY!
Anything that helps him attract ridicule flies from the same nasty barrio
I can say hurtful things, that will anger the demon,
give him, the real reason for vengence
ADAM! I'd rather not, my words are poisonous enough
too much for someone like him who easily gets bent out of shape,
when it comes to paper and pen, this backstabbing demon
I've shown you my sword, the rage I can display, however that's not lady like
even I was disgusted by the thoughts that poured from my golden pen
I killed, a world, and hung myself when spewing that 75 line verse
a poem, in which God, Himself shut me up, and said " Eve what have you done! "
Walk away now, and never look back, that kind of slam is forbidden
listen to the air, God is whipering, I need not to fight, a fight that's not worth it
Adam, this time let's trust the Lord,
look how this demon's eyes, eiden when we bite the strange fruit together
forget about the worm in the apple, preying on dirty minds needing attention
at the end, he will notice, God is my witness, and under His protection
I move forwards, not backwards, and I know how to turn the other cheek
Adam, its time to look away,
let's make love like never before, let's continue to explore a world of love
a world made especially for ADAM and EVE
By Poet - Eve