Long Confectionery Poems
Long Confectionery Poems. Below are the most popular long Confectionery by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Confectionery poems by poem length and keyword.
The Art of using the collective consciousness to see through a single consciousness.
The picture is only so-so clear but due to the factor of time.
The more time you spend scribbling the more your 5go takes over.
But at Bar 55 get you high on growth and change putting you far away from the preferred point in space.
Where art Tao, Where art Tau, lets beest humbl'd in between.
Father || Mother, I have a confession to make, please give me some confectionery as a form of grace.
The holes in my tapestry won't make my tapestry whole.
Yes they were handmade.
Opus III and orbital sound the same in hollow, thanks be to Kirsty Hawkshaw.
Added meaning on top of meaning for synchronicity, thanks be to Carl Jung.
H = Y, N = H, O = V, C=G, find the eternal god within, thanks be to Gregg braden.
Now I am getting comfortable with my true nature, thanks be to me.
This labour day I will be heading to the 090802 in the 081223
CRV sounds like a car Honda makes but it is much older at the US military base.
O/D one path leads to overdrive the mind and one overdosing on medications to fix the mind.
I am tired, so can I eat my 3.1415 as I attempt to get closer to 1.618?
His hands work diligently,
They haven’t been wearied by the passage of time,
They have formed and moulded,
They have created and designed,
He arises early to his duty,
Work hours haven’t dwindled with time,
Age hasn’t been a barrier to his creativity,
He hums and sings as his hands move gracefully,
His confectionery was always the last word in the bakery,
The trade and its tools have seen many enduring years,
They have taught many to find their feet,
They have made many trailblazers,
The baker’s muse, an ageless force,
The baker’s strength, a timeless yield,
The baker’s hands, my father’s,
The baker’s shop, my school.
May 27, 2022.
"Love Writes Its Book: Elysian Fields and the Concept of Force Majeure"
Love writes its book
opens each page
and reads it to you like your Its lover
words drip like honey over your force majeure
judge, jury and earnest revelator
Love dances barefeet in its claret poetry
and holds your bleeding heart in its Elysian hands
you’ve lost your head like The Baptist
and Love, only Love, is your first and last thought
it could be the making of the eternal you;
notes,
like bare legs freedom running
find themselves wrapped around your keys, for playing
a different way of delivering poetry -
an informal opening;
Love writes its book
a fantasy,
a ripe confectionary
Love writes its book
opens each page
and reads it to you like your Its lover
words drip like honey over your force majeure
you're a performance
of Love within
all of its shades
Candide Diderot. ‘25
"Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I'll meet you there."
"Elysian Fields" refers primarily to the paradise in Greek mythology where the souls of heroes and the virtuous reside after death.
“Force Majuere” is a French term for "superior force" that refers to a contractual clause excusing a party from performing its obligations due to an unforeseen, extraordinary event beyond their control, making performance impossible, illegal, or impractical. Common examples include natural disasters, pandemics, war, or government-imposed restrictions.
confectionary.
confectionery.
By day, I followed her around and watched her every move, for she was bigger than life itself. But when the sun went down, she would change into her uniform and go out into the summer evening. Busing it she'd go to the local factory and work on an assembly line. They made confectionery sweets there, and when the boss discarded them for being broken or imperfect, he allowed the staff to take them home to their families. I'd sit at home doing my homework, waiting for her shift to end. Quite often I would be too tired to stay up until midnight and since I had school the next day, I'd go to bed by nine. In the morning I would find a box of pastries called Palmiers in french palmyè, sitting on the kitchen table waiting to be enjoyed.
When the sun came up we would both sit at the kitchen with a tea in hand and talk before I had to go to school. When she hugged me she smelled of spun sugar with a touch of fixative from yesterday's hairspray. All around her was a peaceful presence, as I enjoyed the warmth of her capable strong hands. That was close to sixty years ago and still today if I stand by a bakery counter taking in the scent of cakes and sweets I can still recall my mother and the way she moonlighted just to make ends meet.
Another feather in my cap of feelgood memories from days of yonder. Tune in tomorrow for another story in my lifetime.
The End.
I think pink is a colour for the young,
It's also the colour of our tongue and lips,
And if we are
caucasian, even our hips.
Sugarplums, babies bums, shell-like ears are pink,
Some jewellery I think too,
Pearls, Beads and bangles, to mention just a few.
Pink champagne all froth and bubble,
Don't forget the pink flamingo,
Falling in love and all that trouble,
Of trying to hide that pink rosy glow,
Confectionery like candy floss,
That you can purchase at a fair,
Many other lollies are pink,
I'm sure you've had your share.
I can't think of any animal that is a shade of pink,
Except for the elephants,
One sees if they have had too much to drink!
Oh, what is the matter with me,
I gave my brain a jig.
Then I remembered, of course, the pig!
You can buy pink stationery,
Pink toilet rolls as well.
If you are young and in the pink,
Pink anything shops sell.
Pink bedrooms, bathrooms, kitchen
Curtains and manchester galore,
Light fittings for walls and ceilings,
Carpet and tiles for the floor.
Pink balloons and festoons,
Banners and garlands and bunting,
Although a fox-hunters coat is red,
It's called pink when he goes hunting.
I'm feeling quite nauseous with this colour,
Although it was my favourite, many moons ago.
When I was young and in the pink,
All the young girls thought it so.
Dear Oxford English Dictionary editors,
Please consider the following words for inclusion in your next edition:
Amazone - the addictive, ensnaring vortex of shopping online. "She's been on her laptop all day searching for the perfect wedding gown. She's in the Amazone."
Blump - One who sits around like a head with its chicken cut off (a portmanteau of butt and lump). "He lives in the basement playing video games all day, sitting like a blump on a log."
Cavitate - To move oneself towards items of confectionery. "At parties I always cavitate towards the bowl of M&Ms."
Dispepsic - Drinking Coca-Cola products to the exclusion of all others. "I've been dispepsic for a year now, and loving it!"
Flubbergasted - The overwhelming disbelief at gaining 25 pounds. "Why are all my pants super tight all of a sudden? I'm flubbergasted!"
Newbousness - Amateur behavior exhibited by a person brand new to an activity. "Dad's newbousness with his cell phone is so embarrassing!"
Puppulate - What mama pooch does with her suitor after dark. "Nobody puppulates the neighborhood like Princess used to do."
Twitterpate - Spending so much time on social media that one's head takes the shape and color of a blue bird. "My granddaughter's so twitterpated I barely recognized her."
Uncluded - Regarding necessary accessories that must be purchased separately. "AAA batteries are uncluded".
Wikipediatrician - A medical professional specializing in eye strain caused by non-stop reading of Wikipedia articles. "I can barely focus on long distances anymore... better visit my Wikipediatrician."
Amassed in tiny
droplets formed
on a windowsill
like virgin tears
of perfection...
the night-bird's
rendition of summer
rain behind the backdrop
of a trumpeter's smooth
grooves melting beneath
the warmth of
the enveloping sun.
That was when she
drifted in, unassuming
under a breeze
of melodic waves
like corners turn,
sharp and definitive
as a baby clef on
the musician's highest
notes shouting
I Wanna Take You HIGHER...
perfectly stained
on a sheet
tentatively titled
the Color of Eve.
Poised upon feathers
of song subdued
in blues she consumes
the world around her,
spiraling between
mellifluous rhythms
that sway her mind
where her body
dares not go...
there, soulful nectar
drips from her
brow as the sun
momentarily rests before
draping her in
a palette of warm
sensations under dusk's
lyrical awakening.
Her eyelids close
as she arches
back to feel
the cool sound
around her, becoming
conjoined within
it's many moods
of blues and hues
a denizen of
the moment embraced...
emitting a scent
so sweet
that by dawn
she leaves behind
a confectionery trail
of perfect notes.
“Chocolate Oh chocolate…. what can I say”?
You are paradise in a wrapper delivered direct from the Milky Way!
You smell delightful, taste so creamy and sweet
Have so many different varieties …..you are the perfect treat!
Some say …”Oh, I love a few pieces of chocolate at night”
Me …the whole bar is eaten , not a second thought in sight!!
Chocolate gives me comfort ,happiness as well
The thought of chocolate no longer in my life makes me feel unwell!
I’m so excited when I know I have some to eat later on
Relax, put my feet up and enjoy until all gone!
At times I try not to eat it ,to encourage better health
Though each and every time I find myself at that confectionery shelf
I’ve even hidden bars and eaten secretly
Being a right little sneaky pants eating hurriedly!
“Chocolate Oh chocolate, what can I say”?
“You will always be in my life….Give you up?…NO WAY!!!