Long Baklava Poems
Long Baklava Poems. Below are the most popular long Baklava by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Baklava poems by poem length and keyword.
Phyllo
Sweet taste of baclava.
Drizzled honey.
Crunchy walnuts.
Hint of nutmeg.
Warmed to delicate crispness.
My mouth waters.
Eyes light with delight.
Nose twitches in anticipation.
But…….
Here I stand at midnight.
My kitchen a doughy mess.
Rolling and re-rolling phyllo dough
My trials and tribulations
on display with cracked
and torn doughy pieces
spread across the counter.
Exhausted, ready to give up.
The baklava seems miles away.
Time wasted proving I can’t
make phyllo dough.
I slouch in my chair.
Depression seeps into my soul.
Then, with a grin, I remember
my favorite Greek restaurant opens
in the morning.
One thousand and one fluttering butterflies in one centre all
flap their wings sharing ambrosia for my soul mate and I
Mysterious nights in soft embrace tending sensuous flight
dance to tunes of the muezzin praying for love’s melody
Turkish delight on the shores of Baklava sweat meats taste
under a veil of exposure in nubility’s promises reconfirmed
Silk’s fragrance on a magic carpet in full flight shelters them
as their passion was made for more than the dusk of the dawn
Mosque and musk mingle when fast is broken and garments unfastened in
the East when sun rises bids farewell to the moon and their vows bow to
Tantra cosmos and mantra and
give thanks to the orbit they do not have to travel alone
12th February 2018
Didn’t digest my all-dressed pizza
Suffering now from insomnia
A touch of every possible phobia
Mostly of ravenous bacteria
And humongous tarantula
O yes, and the sordid mafia
Did I call my Grandmamma
Did I put away the spatula
Did I book girls’ day at the spa
Did all the bourgeois really die of cholera
I’m drowning under this plethora
Remind me What’s that formula
O yes, Abracadabra
Tra-la-la and La-di-da
And poof now I’m in a gondola
On the way to utopia
Dressed in graceful taffeta
Eating baklava in the basilica
Hanging from the candelabra
Swinging to the tunes of Lady Gaga
Supported by the silliest orchestra
Hey you Pass me the foie gras
I have a cockeyed camera
You’ll see me at the cinema
I love you Etcetera Etcetera
AP: 1st place 2020, 3rd place 2025
~~~~~~~
Ah, finding the right Greek to go
after!
That stole my soul forever with
love and laughter!
Twas my glimmering treasure trove
to secure.
I admit fully to being anything
but shy and demure!
His buoyancy, his enigmatic zeal
while we soaked our toes in the Pacific!
Sultry waves, alternating between deep
rainbow and holographic.
Kisses, yes,tempestuous and very randy.
The joy of you~tasting like warm, erotic,
Baklava candy!
Oh, don't be still my heart!
That Hellenic lovemaking is quite a lovely
art.
The rational of the planet, think
I am insane!
Good! Let's the two of us go dance Hasapiko,
naked in the rain!
Afterwards don your Greek soldiers' outfit
for me!
Handsome you,in that foustanella now to
please,
Oh, gorgeous Greek, dancing
Tsamiko, my heart pounding.
My decades of passion and love
for you, so Thessaloniki astounding!
At this point,I must stop this late
night quilling!
To be with you, Agape Mou, your
Panagiota is eternally willing!
January 6, 2020
10:30 PM PST
In The Realm of Silver Linings,
you never will find rust,
and never will you ever
see things turn to dust.
Bees may sting, but in this realm,
a bee’s sting does not hurt.
The sweetest honey flows instead.
Baklava will be dessert.
In the Realm of Silver Linings,
should you break a bone,
by nightfall you are healed.
No one has been heard to groan.
Illness rarely finds you there.
Even if it should -
recovery comes as easily
as simply knocking wood.
In the Realm of Silver Linings
lemons don’t need to be sour,
and needful rainfall only comes
lightly like a shower.
You may think such a place
as this cannot exist,
but those with faithful hearts
by good luck there are kissed.
In the Realm of Silver Linings
live those who learned to cope
with trials previously given
but who all the while kept their hope!
Kidnap Me!
On the San Francisco cable car,
or just about anywhere!
You, so blessed with that unique,
wavy Middle Eastern hair.
That kiss, so moist and rich, like
delicious Baklava.
Hold me yet closer and kidnap me
to your Casbah!
Your kindness, overwhelming and
so everlasting, entrancing.
As your eyes glowing in mine, while Greek
circle dancing.
You are embedded in my soul for all days
and for all time.
I am yours, my sweet, and you~ are so
mmutably, mine!
4/9/2019
~ 1~
Baklave punished the people of
Thermopolium. The taught
the flavors of desire and decodance
When Apicius created a dessert for
the men of Anceintious. One man wished to
be loved and sorted the farro in fields
and dairy's in barns. In search
of sweetness gathered honeys. o He told the
men of these ancient places only a God
could appreciate such decadence.
He called on Apicius to
take farros for flour, The butters for fat ,
creamy cheese for richness:
to be encrusted with a sweet potatoes
and and to have a nuttiness of toasted pecans
mixed with farro flour butter eggs vanilla
and theobroma casas. To be baked in Zeus's oven
And when done all shall proclaim me God in
the Highest.
Apicius fixed kaka, and the people of Anceintious ate it.
aAnd smiles turned into concern.
One spoke saying the women shall hate us. Men will tease us.
And a world of long suffering
shall spite at us. Baklava spoke from the vinyard saying
curses he that labored.
Curses he that has chored. And the recipe disappear forever
Baklava
used his powers to hide it side a tree on amountain.
in 1903 a Fruit picker near a Silver mine
found the parchment and translated it.
The simple porcelain of a coffee cup
upon a saucer, minimal and clean,
a long counter for those who wish to sup
and not take fables from the families;
the waitress zones in when your drink runs dry,
with black liquid more precious than dark crude,
the orders up entice the hungry eye,
and this place is well-known for their French fries.
The owner is a legal immigrant,
he always is out front in shirt and tie,
presses the flesh with any who come in,
comes across as an exuberant guy.
The food always comes before you expect,
these cooks are fast (and covered in tattoos),
on weekend morns the pace seems near breakneck,
dervish servers swirl from one booth to the next.
Each year they sponsor a little league team,
the kids pictures mounted proud on the wall,
near the specials, which on the white-board gleams,
today it’s a pancake stack, extra tall;
when church gets out the business will quicken,
the priest himself is known to frequent here,
a social spot for all the praying men,
though football is the faith for some of them.
The food is good for the price they offer
(But not as cheap as what it used to be!).
They get eggs right, which some clerks never learn,
sell baklava, since the owner is Greek.
I think all towns need at least one such place
to qualify as a real town at all,
with no diner why would the people stay?
It brings something that no chain can replace.
Like many heroes of mysterious Marvel Comics,
Doctor Stephen Vincent Strange is a bolt of magic mix;
Spells of supernatural kinds he works, abundantly,
Crimsons, crystals, ice, rings, chains - in constant redundancy...!
Pile of pure pulverization and annihilation,
The Bolts of Balthakk has become eternal damnation;
On any stuff - solid or liquid - the bolt does explode,
Like iron-oxidation, all powers it does corrode...!
Bounds, rebounds, rings, winks, blows, boomerangs at its master's hands,
Swishes, swooshes; whizzes, whooshes like winds in desert sands;
None in heaven or hell could ever its gravity hold,
Like swift, sly electric current it does its force unfold...!
Is it terrible torch of fire? Or lake of lava?
Is it hydro-nitrogen bomb resembling baklava?
From hands of Doctor Strange, like gold dust they serenely fly,
Clapping, crashing, flashing, dazzling, booming, zooming they spry...!
Doctor Strange manipulates these bolts like liquid plasma,
For him, a magic-surgeon, it's mere mental miasma;
An awesome third eye adorns the forehead of Doctor Strange,
For mesmerized kids, these are, delightful amusement-range...!
30 August 2022
Doctor Strange Spells Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Robert James Liguori
The alarm clock brushed my teeth and then forced me to drink orange juice.
As I looked out the window, a cement sky was pulling down the corners of my mouth.
The newspaper on my front steps was wetter than a spitball. Trying to read it was like trying to page through baklava, just not as tasty.
The coffee grinder handed me a bouquet and asked if I would like some help with the corners of my mouth. I cradled the steaming mug so I could feel the rays of sunshine in my hands.
As I headed out, the wind surprised me by throwing the door open and kissing me. Her lips were cold, but her breath was very fresh. I was mad at first, but must admit, it did feel good.
When I got to work, the building was talking trash to me, and I talked trash right back,
reminding him that I was close to retirement. That shut him up! I paused and then tightly grinned, knowing full well that someday I will miss them all.