Long Biscuit Poems
Long Biscuit Poems. Below are the most popular long Biscuit by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Biscuit poems by poem length and keyword.
I'm shopping in the town near my favourite cake shop
I need a sugar fix so I’ll really have to stop
I’m having friends to tea, so I think it’s only fair
To buy my friend Patricia, a nice chocolate eclair
Connie loves a cake and it’s always lots of fun
Watching her dissect a pink-coated iced bun
Alice will be coming and she’ll bring her sister Pam
They both like nothing better, than a doughnut filled with jam
A Battenberg of pink and yellow is one of Carol's favourite cakes
She divides the squares into four, oh what a mess she makes
A nice Victoria Sponge is Jess's favourite cake
But the ones in the shop aren’t as good as the ones her Grandma used to make
Wendy is quite partial to a round, plump Eccles cake
Filled with currants and buttery filling
They're messy when the pastry starts to flake
The cakes are on the cake-stand, it’s quite a sight to see
I’m trying to cut down my sugar intake
But they look really tempting to me
My friends are choosing their favourite cake
But I don't think I’ll risk it
I'll just sit and watch them, with a nice cup of tea
And a nice modest Digestive biscuit
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnished, not to shine in use!
Ulysses by Lord Tennyson
Tin Man : [squeaking] Dorothy : He said "oil can." Scarecrow : Oil can what? ... [Dorothy squirts oil onto the Tin Man and his arm loosens and falls] Dorothy : Did that hurt? ... Tin Man : Well, about a year ago, I was chopping that tree, when suddenly it began to rain. And right in the middle of a chop, I rusted solid.
Wizard of Oz (movie quote)
EDEN’S CREST
I travel only in my mind
now. Packing up my cruise ship
experience. I wait; I reiterate,
I wait, with unhinged joint -
rusty, waiting for the oil can
of the tin man. A long journey’s
night going in circles, on
the yellow brick road. Those bricks,
brittle and broken, rotting
apple cores protruding from the ground;
even the mad tree is bored. The sea,
does she wait for me - a long lost friend?
Does she perfume the long-long night
with extra salt and coconut oil?
Does her child kick at the waves,
bored and wishful for his friends?
And my garden, in which honey bees
fall out of the sky, with no soul
to buzz and bother. The birds flap listlessly
in horror, never before missing
human beings until their existence
was in question. We need each other,
on the balance beam, to wrestle,
to teem; the muscle of golden koi
exploding from a child’s eyes -
the pond in Eden’s crest. Oh God,
may I not freeze in time! Set this world
in motion; devotion of hands, knees
and fine chefs singing O Sole Mio
whilst the island-ship waves its flags,*
pure white excitement perhaps
with a dunk of gravy and biscuit crumbs,
dotting eyes as the voyage comes
to an end; the pandemic lasts.
8/4/2021
*napkins
the snowflakes make your smile shine
i laugh softly as you try to catch one on your tongue
you are completely careless and totally unaware of life and what it is
six hours removed from leaving the hospital after your ninth heart surgery,
i just let you be free because by golly you deserve it
i think i will surprise you with your favorite pepperoni and mushroom biscuit pizza
then again, i better stay right here and make sure you do not overdo it
while lost in thought, i feel you give me a slight nudge
you tell me that you are a bit tired, so we go inside the house, warm up, and just sit still for a spell
then you whisper in my ear the words i saw coming since the first look in your perky brown eyes....'pepperoni and mushroom biscuit pizza'
i look down at you and smile and say 'okay'....and in the kitchen we go
so warm the Blessed Feeling
This morn I woke to a gloomy dawn; a cold rainy day
Off to the kitchen to find comfort in a cuppy Earl Grey
An anytime drink that warmly soothes the inside of me.
To calm anxiety, I often enjoy relaxing chamomile tea.
I smile at the aroma of Orange-Pekoe's rising steam,
with a hint of citrus zest, and a dollop of sweet cream.
Sometimes, I use raw honey instead of both of those,
if I brew tea made from fresh or dried hips of a rose.
Appealing is the amber liquid of Jasmine tea to taste.
Not a single drop of treasured tea ever goes to waste.
If the rain stops, I'll have another cup this afternoon,
in the shade of my garden since it's the month of June.
I don't dunk anything with crumbs into my teacup.
I prefer sipping Hibiscus tea in complete tranquility.
Perhaps, a biscuit or a scone if it's served on the side,
for having things float in my Chai... I cannot abide.
Au uh de vino
one bottle of white wine
1/2 cup of chopped tarragon
7 cracked garlic cloves
1/2 cup of green onions
2 tablespoons of gingerroot minced
1 red hot chili (smashed)
5 Tablespoons of fish stock
in a gallon container add the ingredients and store in a dry, cool place for about 2 weeks before usage. Strain and put in a labeled wine bottle with a cork.
best in a pressure cooker
1 cup of Au uh de vino
4 cups of peeled diced pumpkin
3 cups of chicken stock
2 cleaned and diced leeks
3 tablespoons of garlic
3 cups of chicken thighs (sauté the chicken fat and skins, dice and add to the pot)
2 cups of Andouille sausage ( skins removed and diced)
3 cups of sour cream
2 tablespoons of dill
1 T cayenne
cook until pumpkin is soft, in a food processer add pumpkin's and leeks, make a puree, add sauce and cook until a smooth thick consistency. Add the meats. (make a roux, with 1 cup flour, one cup oil, add to mixture) cook again until thick.
make a buttermilk biscuit dough, and in muffin pan, press the dough into each cup making a shell.( your going to use the other half to make a top for each muffin. If desired) add smooth mixture, and bake until the mixture is done.
1 tablespoon of cayenne pepper
Big trucks rolling down the street
With a message that is very deep
Big trucks rolling down the street
Filled with mixed concrete
Big trucks rolling down the street
carrying tons of steels
Stone truck, cement truck, steel truck
And truck whose body can hardly match the street
Rumbling through the protest town with a terrible sound
Big trucks rambelling through the street
Stirring up the people's heart beat
Bread truck, peanut truck, chocolate truck
Biscuit truck, chicken truck, police truck
Waste management truck, whoes stench
Circulate the air with a smell that cause
The people to fear.
Big trucks criss crossing the town
Carrying goods that are scarce in town
Heavy duty trucks with drivers whose
Hearts are tough journey all night
Into broad daylight with their big
Tattoo arms grasping the steering wheel
with smile that is very mean
Big truck gathering on the bridges
Forming long ques on the free ways
moving slowly into the city oh what a pity
Their drivers knows the road and they
are used to carrying heavy load
They honk their horns and make
Fun of the women watering the lawn.
Big trucks honkering down in the town
watching the women changing their night gown
Bulldozar truck, wreckers truck and truck that can cause
A man made disaster, the street is messy and the
Gods are unhappy but the truckers are ready.
They are travelling from city to city and they are
taking over states and towns dropping
Off boxes of goods in rundown towns
Removal trucks, horse trucks, furniture trucks,
And trucks with bodies mounting up in the sky
They have to use a special road to get by
Buses and cars motor cycle and bicycle
All gather in the street to sound their heartbeat
They circle around the town making loud
and boisterous sounds chasing the visitors
Out of town.
Big trucks with double gear shouting
And pressing the gas that is filtering smoke in the air
Water truck are crawling by
Fire trucks, petrol trucks and dirt trucks are
all waiting in line to meet their deadline
Get ready to board the truck and hop
off that terrible bus , cross the ocean
and make landfall in the desert.
Remember when the ink, a writer’s tat, like a cobra spiralling ‘round fingers and arms, wielded power. Splotches, balled up, thrown into the basket hoop, flooding the creative canal. Ideas danced like mad flames, charming, rhyming, flipping, flopping, finally happy, no crossing out, neverending editing, feathers flapping, inkwell splattering, until the words must be kept.
Eyes the color of dawn, never set. The romance never kept. Captivated by the sea, trees, and wolves. Hair like a cape ‘round the shoulders, as the cold swirls about, as the fire almost goes out. Only then does the poet gather her skirts and wood, and nibble a biscuit, pour herself into bed.
Her dreams and nightmares will be channelled into tomorrow’s inkwell. She lives inside a warm womb, in a butterfly's cocoon, in a bear’s hibernation cave. She spins fairytale gold.
Who knows, memories I do not
A vague impression of thought
Certain moments a everlasting print
Others like a past good and bad
Mankind ripping your dignity from
Who they supposed be, hero we look
Or quick way to learn trust few
A child instituted beneath the soul
Hidden from the world they live
A biscuit, my friend thanks
Growing in grace, only God their friend
Tobacco barns laying stick before dawn
From five to teen, years exit quickly
We sprout strong against the wind
Few limbs fall from thou stem
A lonely path to suicide redemption
Woods lay darkness as my being
My life I challenge evils persistent
Strength of my own I trust belief
From streets I climb a king
Not in riches but a soul destined
A fire lighting a flicker distance
As if hope was alive from depths
Darkness, a fear of not seeing
Scars of homeless soul's thirsting breath
Beating, my life vein throbs existence
That which give breath before drowning
I chose kindness even if I had lost
Knowing, it was not world makes us
Only in ourselves can we make the world
Only in oneself do we live a world befeallan to us
An armadillo leaned on a fence,
too wilted to muster a proper defense.
His cowboy hat slouched
like a biscuit overbrowned,
his dignity having long since left town.
The relentless sun blazed down with cheer,
roasting the pasture for the fifteenth month this year.
Grasshoppers staggered.
Mesquite trees panted.
Even the buzzards looked disenchanted.
The dillo squinted west and sighed,
I reckon I'm medium-well inside.
One more degree
and y'all will see
roadside jerky where I used to be."
A bead of sweat rolled down his snout.
He watched it fall. He watched it sizzle.
"Autumn," he grumbled,
"has missed her exit.
She's probably lost near Abilene."
The fence post offered little aid.
The shade was merely shade-adjacent.
He tipped one claw
to his hat and said,
"If anybody spots October,
tell it I'm awaitin'."
It began as a day like any other,
In the oceans deepest depths,
Until a Kiwi and an Ausi,
Decided to have a picnic at the bottom of the Ocean,
In the deepest part of the Mariana Trench.
They arrived with both flags flying,
Inside the only submersible of its kind,
Nick named The Limiting Factor.
A toast to Sir Edmond they said,
We knocked this bugger off,
And reached two kilometres deeper than
He went higher.
I think we have done enough for an Anzac Biscuit,
And a Vegemite Sandwich,
Even if the rest of the world thinks us nuts,
And can't understand how the two of us,
As different as chalk and cheese,
Can occupy such a small space,
At the same time,
And both come back alive to tell the tale.
Maybe there is a lesson there,
For those who don't know,
How to occupy the same house,
Little own a single room together,
With someone who talks different,
Looks different,
Smells different,
And wears s a different hat.
Of course we do have the advantage of,
Having the supply of,
Anzac Biscuits and Vegemite Sandwiches,
Pretty much sown up
https://www.stuff.co.nz/science/124823189/historymaking-109km-anzac-dive-to-the-bottom-of-the-mariana-trench