Long Brownies Poems
Long Brownies Poems. Below are the most popular long Brownies by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Brownies poems by poem length and keyword.
I believe in friends, and forgiveness by way of overkill
so I ran swiftly over, carrying my Minnie Mouse skateboard still.
You could have ridden it, she said, coming to the door.
as I slid in brownies, cookies, pumpkin pie, and other goodies galore.
I am an dunderhead, an idiot, the worst friend of all, I began to beg.
She did not hear me while taking the lid off my homemade nutmeg
which I make from my own spices out in the back forty.
So you forgot, she guessed, laughing, as we began the annual sort-y.
which ones are mine? she said, looking at all the junk I had brought.
I had strawberries, and lemons, blouses, and a red and blue cot.
The one I wanted! She yelped with a delighted scream,
knocking me into the pumpkin pie I had brought with whipped cream.
I always forget, so I can run over and do this.It is our annual thing.
She loves it, and laughs, and it feels so absolutely right.
She counts on it each and every year, and we have a birthday sing.
The best accident, once upon a time, now we do it with all of our might!
Spring rain came for the sixth day in a row, leprechauns were dancing.
Brownies crept out of their mentor’s worm holes to prance along.
The fey love April, for she is the greenest month, and green brings
grass, leaves, regrowth, rejuvenation, refreshing joy and enthusiasm.
Faeries would be along in a week or two, maybe even sooner
if the rain kept up. They always flitted up to the marigolds
The meadow was greening up marvelously and nicely.
Daffodils were the first to show their vibrant blossoms.
Smiles sprung out of winter faces. Flutes and guitars came out.
The little people had an impromptu hoe-down, dancing and singing.
The grass began greening up in its most vibrant way.
The atmosphere felt fresh and new. It was spring – finally!
The lilac buds sprouted out and smiled at the merry making.
Smooth red and yellow tulips came dancing into the fray.
The ruffled marigolds would be about in their own time.
In the meantime, we all danced in honor of the greening of April.
Our airport is so small, that if you visit Kansas City
Many of the workers will get to know you personally
And greet you by name on every visit after this one.
They might even offer to take you home for a home-cooked meal.
This meal will be barbecued ribs, and they will be sauce-slathered.
The sweet meat will sit well up in your tummy
next to your potatoes, delicious corn casserole
and warm rolls with butter that drips off your fingers.
Rent a car? Don’t be silly. What do you want to see?
Where do you want to go? Would you like to see the
Veteran’s Museum, the Jazz district, Crossroad’s Art District?
Our steamboat museum will hold your interest for hours.
There are fountains all over the city, and they are marvelous!
You want to take barbecue with you to go? No problem.
We are famous for our barbecue. You can get it on every corner.
A nap? Sure. No problem. You can have the guest room.
Stay a few days. We will be glad to show you around.
Do you need any more towels?
Would you like to come down for dessert?
You can have fudge brownies or key lime pie.
Homemade by grandma.
What do you eat for breakfast?
We can make whatever you want.
We are friendly, hospitable and happy you are here!
Welcome to Kansas City!
A hotel? Don't be silly!
furiously frolicking fey do not visit everyone
some empaths hear their giggles
others sense their lively antics
few humans see them
the ones I know bring a fragrance with them
I am clairsentient
aware more than others
clairaudient too; I hear their giggles
I cannot fathom life without them
some of the nonbelievers would not believe me
but they are here, in the forms of elves, faeries, and brownies
gnomes, dragonflies and damselflies are their distant cousins
sometimes they surround me
landing on my shoulder
showing themselves also in golden orbs
I am blessed, but keep it to myself
being a clairvoyant is not for everyone
maybe it does not run in some families
but it runs in mine, and I smile at the fey
as they hide themselves from the nonbelievers
MIDNIGHT MUNCHIES! I’M IN A TERRIBLE JAM….
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At midnight, my stomach grumbled
With snacks in the pantry, I fumbled
On the shelves high and low,
Chocolate cookies. Say no!
But tripped on my cat and then tumbled!
Toward the fridge I tiptoed with glee,
For it holds a treasure trove for me.
There's a jar of sweet jam, tight
I’m stuck with tasteless yam, terrible plight!
With spoon and my cravings, an eating spree!
Oh, the brownies were calling my name.
They ‘made me’ lose the dieter’s game.
Each chocolate bite I took,
My belly constantly shook,
Now my waistline will never be the same!
The Chocolate Baker is a lady of stature so grand,
She bakes the best cookies and cakes over the lands.
Other bakers dishes are tasteless and utterly bland,
Sensationally goodness are the works from her hands.
Miraculous wonders from her oven every day appear,
Close to my palate her talents have become very dear.
Cakes, brownies, fudge, puddings and chocolate pies,
Scrumptious delectable aromas bring tears to my eyes.
As Chocolate is a part of my menu almost every day,
Living near the bakery would be a wise choice I’d say.
So a house I found with a little effort and a bit of labor,
Now the Chocolate Baker, a grand lady is my neighbor.
Author Eileen Clark
Within a land of Virgin forest wonders flourish
Trembles the pulsing heart of heavenly laden body at night
Ghostly figures shadows churn and nourish
Harmonious reflection green-mist awaiting daylight
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Pits and mounds of decaying fallen trees below
Persuasive lace lichen and mats of moss embrace nature’s seasons
Improbable flickering amber windows aglow
Amongst high-tower contorted trees bestow reasons
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Verdure of mystical creatures lie low
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As brownies are busy all night tweaking chores
Alicorn, centaurs, fairies, dwarf stir leaves of trees
High overhead night creaks, cries, and laughter flow
Sailing passage through moist earthy scent breeze
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Verdure of mystical creatures lie low euphoric
Within a land of Virgin forest
9/22/2016
Gnomes in the bedroom, faeries in the hall.
Fey folks all over, none of them are too tall.
Night time magic giggles hilarious to me.
Of course mischief galore, everywhere you see.
Nefarious gnomes cannot be reasoned with.
Brownies join in. They give me a quick sniff.
My husband is hiding under a stack of junk.
He thought this make believe was bunk.
My deep easy sleep is a thing of the past now.
They are singing, and one is beginning to growl.
Crazy laughter is traveling all over the house.
I am excited. Hubby is beginning to grouse.
Are they tipsy or what my unhappy husband has groaned.
They are not drinkers, I told him from my place on the throne.
They are merely coming to pay respects to me.
For I am the one who opened the magic oak tree.
How long will they stay he asked with concern.
I knew I did not know, and might never learn.
The fey folks do not share their time tables or their way.
For all I knew they were staying six months and a day.
Fix some peanut butter sandwiches, I urged him.
They do not like the smell. This was a sudden whim.
They swarmed out the door as soon as he popped the lid.
Back tomorrow! One yelled. Through the door she promptly slid.
Why can’t you paint canvases of ordinary stuff?
My husband accused me. His face was a puff.
I like faeries, gnomes and elves I said, really quite pleased.
Knowing they would return on the next holiday breeze.
( posted only today Jul 21, 2026)
Merry spells, fairy tales
—
I went down good old memory lane
Down neverland, land of fairy folk
To times of less stress and strain
Now don't laugh it off as a joke
Come with me and recall
The fairy folks secret hall
Twas' behind an illusory mirage,
next to the goblin's old garage,
below, to the deep fairy's forest,
where you be an ogre's guest.
— Walk to the hut of a gnome,
where wicked witches roam,
or where trolls have made their home,
around the toothfairy's dome.
And turn left, then, to where
— the wily wizard stayed;
about the corner there,
— where playful pixies played;
and then to the right,
— where frowning brownies dwelled
in lil' mushroom mansions,
— where spells they spelled.
And if time you have to
— actually spy and eavesdrop,
place that ear against the keyhole
— of the elve's lil' shop.
Hear their enchanting chants,
as they sell their magic wands,
and tell tall tales about short pixies,
or of leprechauns in their sixties.
Then you'll come across a genie's cave,
where, when you see a sprite, just wave.
And lastly, move on to where live the impy imps,
and these really might've descended from chimps.
Then, to shrink toadstool size, don't bow —
first ask a genie just to show you how.
You've reached crescent fairy's fairyforest now —
An imaginary, legendary destination — wow!
Catha’s hair glistened in the Celtic way
Druids would have worshipped her
A sprinkle of cinnamon on her arms
Her face pixie-like and heart shaped
People fell in love with her
Scottish, Irish and Druids claimed her
We were five when Ma spun the Catha stories.
For our benefit, to honor our McCormick ginger hair.
To help us feel normal with our copper hair
And our plethora of freckles.
Born near Stonehenge,
Gifted with a soothsayer’s heart
She was more fey than the faeries
More gypsy than the Romans.
Clairaudient and clairsentient,
She sensed brownies, elves, and poltergeists
We were seven when our classmates began to bully us
Making fun of our McCormick ginger hair.
To try and make us feel ashamed of our copper hair
And our plethora of freckles, but it did not work
For we were like Catha, the pride of the clan.
Mother’s preparation suiting us up to ignore their evil taunts.