Long Muffin Poems
Long Muffin Poems. Below are the most popular long Muffin by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Muffin poems by poem length and keyword.
Thy arms are opened
to embrace you
to hear them sing
ah-song of love and peace
who calms the shores
to create beaches Lord and King
held in high esteem
the sweetness of
a world ah-plenty
the world should know
how sweet the taste
Love lifted me
to great esteems
to make me smile
to make me sing
I taste the sweet
and glorious things
double fired plantains
pan fried and pressed into a muffin pan
filled with strips of pig ears in a tangy spicy sauce
topped with a cilantro green sauce
and toasted sesame seeds
5&1/2 cups of cooked pig ears
cut into stips
and boiled in
3 quarts of water
1 orange halved and squeezed
3 peppercorns
4 smashed cloves garlic
1 medium onion diced
5 tablespoons of vinegar
3 tablespoons of salt
3 sugar
2 star anise
cook for 1 hour until fork tender
drain and add to a bowl
2 Tablespoons of cayenne pepper
1/4 olive oil
1/4 lemon juice
4 tablespoons of garlic
1/2 teaspoon of fish stock
3 tablespoons of shredded coconut
2 tablespoons of honey
1 tablespoon of molasses
1 Tablespoon of spiced Rum
1?3 cup diced onions
5 tablespoons of toasted sesame seeds
1 teaspoon of celery seeds
2 tablespoon of soy sauce
1/4 cup of diced apples
1/4 cup of diced candied ginger
fry plantains golden brown
press plantains in muffin pan
to create cups fill with pig ears
and bake 15 minutes at 350 degrees
1/2 cup mayonnaise
3 tablespoons lemon juice
1 ?4 cup of chopped cilantro
1 teaspoon of jalapeno pepper
2 tablespoons of crushed garlic
3 teaspoon vinegar
What God has Claned you must not call common!
“Old Chas. has had his chips they say;
his days are nearly numbered now.”
So Harry told us in the pub,
and then he said “Somehow,
I think, we should go and see him,
before he falls off the perch,
‘cause if we don’t then very soon
we’ll only see him in the church.”
“What’s wrong with him?” I’m asking Harry,
who said he wasn’t really sure,
but it seems to be a virus thing
that the doctors cannot cure.
Then Joe cut in and said aloud
“I don’t think what he’s got is strange.
His missus treats him like a dog
so he’s probably got the mange.”
Now that’s another subject which
gets underneath our skin.
Perhaps she has been poisoning him,
that’s why he looks so thin,
and she isn’t kind to visitors
who come to wish old Charlie well.
Perhaps it’s best we stay away;
‘Now hang on! Bloody hell.’
Chas. is our mate who’s pretty crook
and his traveling’s all down hill.
He’s been our mate for thirty years,
so ‘bugger’ her I will
go ‘round and try to cheer him up,
and lift his spirits up a bit,
so then I left the pub alone,
to show the other blokes some grit.
I knocked on the door; she answered it.
She smiled and said “Come in.
Chas will be so pleased to see you” …
said with an evil viscous grin.
She led me through the kitchen;
an odour permeates the air
of something she is cooking.
She points. “Chas is lying down in there.”
Before I went to see old Chas.
I said “Your kitchen smells aglow” …
“Oh, I’m cooking choc chip muffins,
they’re Chas’s favourite you know.”
She lifted them out of the oven
and then placed them on a rack.
She didn’t see Chas. stagger out,
because he was behind her back.
He looked so pale when to his lips,
he put his finger for the sign,
to not let his missus know
that he was staggering behind.
Old Charlie might be awful crook,
and closing in on fate,
but with those muffins on the bench,
his time will have to wait.
Then while reaching for a muffin,
Chas. moved his chair and she,
turned around and with a scream
“Hey Charlie leave them be!
I didn’t bake these muffins for you,
I’m taking them down to the hall.
They’re for folks who come on back
after your funeral.”
With a 7-Eleven Big Cup eulogy slurp
And a McDonalds Big Mac pall bearer burp,
it’s Big Boy Slim Jim holiday mourning time
Take a family reunion picnic funeral ride
to a cemetery last supper barbeque burial ...
shovel down the gullet styrofoam servings
of coffin words charcoal dirtside purged
Famous food jingles playing over the radio
was the final ear candy corpse dish heard
Box of chocolates and cake frosting flowers
bring back such fond broken diet memories
And guilty pleasures
of Weight Watchers infidelities
Illicit affairs of late-night microwave heated morsels
brought forth categorically caloric denials ...
refrigerated temptations
tiptoe sneaking down the pie-hole
Oh, the double-layered life you led,
the gravedigger cravings you had
You always pillow stashed
an eclair energy bar
under the silk sheets kissy lipstick red,
to stimulate your gastro-erotic appetite after midnight
Carnal tastings of naked delight ... good belly vibrations —
sugar rush,
melted butter
Buckets of caramel popcorn love ...
Lip-smacking custard creampies,
your tongue couldn’t get enough
Popsicle toes,
finger licking
Mouth watering pickles,
spicy honey breasts of chicken
Succulent crab legs,
steamed oyster juices exotic
Lobster chowder brie ... pure aroma ecstasy
You took a Cajun deep creole swallow,
spooning the bottom of the gumbo pot
Relaxing those alligator jaws for the belching last time,
loosening your belt past the final notch
Satisfied donut eyes orange glaze hollow,
cinnamon bun thoughts be on your English muffin mind:
Restaurant quality neo-mortician style buffet,
wine cellar casket smorgasbord
Undertaker carry-out at the Last Breath café,
with a menu selection to die for
Oh, the extra toppings life you led,
such gravedigger cravings you had
Time to put your Pizza Hut pepperoni desires to bed,
and brain-freeze
that last heaping spoonful of Big Frosty in your head
Then close them Cheesecake Factory eyes,
when those antacid,
digestive ...
gluttonous lights go dead
Nights of flying dream world,
who might chase a raucous laugh,
or seek indeed mirthful excitement,
the sort that has embroidered twists,
as is generally perceived by intention,
but epic hurdles formed in still frame,
city snores past midnight bell clang,
dare one ever risk a robust venture,
should I have said pursuit instead,
sleep is diversion in that steel crib,
that modern crib pillow we fostered,
an idiom that has it’s silken source,
on foot of rainbow studded home run,
as denizens of driven blissful sprint,
with that palette city life concocts,
waiting to arise from brainwave surge,
but toilers so content at last wonder,
can still find that extra zestful yen,
nocturnal misnamed down tool free time,
energizing hour filler may arouse,
around the ink drape walkways,
quite surrogate and surreptitious,
character one may mold from time,
spent as a regal rhombic chaser,
boundary scuppered plot by strolling fleet,
as creatively imagining might edge,
vast supply has penchant without dent,
zeitgeist flower of a fluorescent flag,
warning mask so deft but visible,
canopy laid beauteous black fringe,
alliance in shade infused etch front,
squeaky noising trickle eardrum muffin,
hear full dose of ripple muttering,
clued on obscurantist thin,
taut code evasive decipher ask,
float of urban mirror pool by pattern,
reflection, mirage, cocoon,
after midnight curtain draws,
to protracted claps evinced from,
squinting imp coterie on foot,
ricochet off Moroccan spice tint,
outside vivid haunt so frequented,
perchance, perforce, pertaining patois,
little seen scatter mice squeak,
analogy horizontal spurt funk,
if only these dart and dash clan,
midgets metaphorical so jubilant,
in sonic meddle near edge encounter,
it would be strictly beyond a dazzling cast,
from other daylight theater staunch queue,
when aiming for parallel experience,
performance nocturne wise deep art,
even rich fantasy has upper boundaries,
some grating gulley flake debris awash
all seasoned readed and fried
one trout filleted
6 medium shrimp
six slices off procuttio
six toasted and garlic buttered
hoagie loaves
lettuce tomato pickles
fried onion
with Specail sauce
6 tablespoons of yogurt
5 tablespoons of mayo
1 teaspoon of garlic
1 tablespoon of chives
1 tablespoons of tarrogen
1 tablespoon of lemon juice
1 tablespoon of chopped green pepper
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 tablespoons of hopped bacon bits
6 burgers cooked well to medium
12 slices of cooked bacon
6 slices of provolone
6 slices of cheddar
1/2 cup of fried onions
mayo
lettuce
tomato
in a muffin pan
place eggroll wrapper
add 1 tablespoon of butter each
add one slice of porcuttio
chop olives 2/3 cups of black olives
3 tablespoons of olive oil
2/3 cup of chopped onions
2/3 minced mushrooms
3 tablespoons of minced garlic
1 teaspoon of cayeenne pepper
2/3 cups of chopped bacon
2/3 chopped sundreid tomatos
4 tablespoon of golden current or rasians
5 tablespoons of chopped green pepper
1 tablespoon of celery sed
2/3 cup of grated parmesean
1/2 cup of chopped asparagus
add to a pan all the veggies (except the parmesans cheese)
cook until onions are tranlusent add parmesean and remove from heat
add 4 tablespoon of sweet port or sherry
1 tablespoon of fish stock
1 tablespoon of lemon juice
cut pork loin into 1&1/2 inch pieces
salt and pepper deep fry for about ten minutes nearly cooking
the pork well.
set aside and half a portion to tell the donest
cook more if neded.
assemble
veggie mix a tablespoon in bottom of pan
top with pork
and cover with tablespoon of veggie mix
fold eggroll( Double the wrappers if wanting a thicker crust)
fold neatly eggwash and cut a puff pastryornament to cover the eggroll
design and bake until golden brown
in a sauce pan add pork stock cream and creamed chese to
with sweet port or sherry
to make a sauce
and serve with swet potato frnched fries and white potoato fries mixed
with a healthy garden salad
Look
Just take a page out of my book
Call me Captain Hook
Because my hooks have you hooked
And don't you dare give me that look
You know you looked
Call me a spook
Because they dropped a nuke
Now I'm a ghost
But I don't suffer the most
Golly gee I'm your host
So why don't we have a toast
On the beautiful east coast
Everyone's so afraid of running out of time
And losing a single solitary second is quite the crime
But I'm just here for rhythmic acrobatics
Not advanced mathematics
Because my tactics are subtle
And I do love to befuddle
I could distort the truth with a lie
And I heard that sigh
I'm spinning you up and down and all around
With my verbose vocal sound
Zounds!
I'm dropping words you've never heard
Like a bird I'm taking flight
I'm definitely not here for a fight
Hear me now I'm ready for midnight
I'm that witty city kid
This is what I've done my whole life
Even through days rife with strife
I put that pen to paper like a caper
Stealing rhymes, stealing lines
Dealing fines, reeling signs
I'm really doing this again and again
For my own gains I stay in my lane
They told me I ran out of talent
I told them they ran out of paper
Because I'm standing tall like a skyscraper
And if I'm arrogant I might as well be an error gent
Because I spent and I spent
Could never catch the hint
Let me just say I'm a muffin in a cupcake's world
A muffin in a cupcake's world
Look
You took a page out of my book
But you lost the hook
Because the truth is I'm a crook
And I stole it before you knew it was there
But if I'm a muffin in a cupcake's world
I'll be the muffinator
Because there will be nothin' later
So keep being a hater
To you I do not cater
And I didn't imagine you'd be my waiter
Look
Be honest you read the book
And you finally found the hook
But you're not Tom Nook
And I'm no longer that witty city kid
Because I'm a muffin in a cupcake's world
A muffin
In a cupcake's world
I’m Onomato-pea-a
The window is my home.
I love the sounds of cooking
At day, at dusk, and dawn.
Mom clomps into the room
And clicks on every light
The curtain whooshes open,
I wake up, “No more night!”
Drawers squeak, cabinets creak
Bread plonks down on the counter
Bacon’s opened, flour’s measured
Pans clang on rusty burners
I hear the toaster popping
The bacon sizzling in the skillet
Eggs cracking, the spatula clacking
While the gurgling coffee pot drips
Grapes are rinsed, herbs are minced,
Mushrooms crackle and splatter
The butter fizzles, the batter sizzles
As pancakes bubble and spatter
The kettle shrieks and whistles
The blender whirrs and hums
Forks jingle, spoons jangle
Mugs are placed with a thud
The microwave vrooms as the oatmeal spins
The mixer churns the dough
Knives chop, apples topple,
The oven dings—ready to go!
Glasses chink, dishes plink,
Plates and bowls karrunnn!
Slippers shuffle across the floor
Grumpy faces grunt and yawn
Water whispers from the faucet
Syrup drizzles from the nozzle
Orange juice glugs into a glass
Milk splashes from the bottle
Muffin liners crinkle off
Bacon’s piled on plates
Fruit is munched, toast is crunched,
Oatmeal’s slurped and scraped
Juice is gulped, tea is sipped,
Coffee’s filled then spilled!
I hear a moan, then, “Don’t groan….
Just clean it up!” the mug’s refilled.
Cream cheese spreads on toasted bagels,
Eggs are salted with the shaker
Coffee’s stirred, seconds are served
“Mmmmms” and “Yums” are uttered
Serving dishes bounce and rattle,
Cups and plates clink on the tray
Dishes crash into the sink
With a bonk! Clunk! And Clank!
Rags swirl around the counter
Trash is lugged through the door
The broom swishes on the ground
The mop glides across the floor
The Dishwasher rumbles and purrs
the refrigerator drones and sighs
the clock ticks, the faucet drips
I stretch, yawn and shut my eyes.
I love your acsent' it makes me want to kiss you!
16 fillet catfish/ or seabass
1/4 cup of McCormick seasoning
2 Tablespoons of garlic powder
2 Tablespoons of onion powder
3 tablespoons of cayenne pepper
mix well and set aside
1/2 cup of olive oil
1/2 melted butter
1/4 cup lime juice
coat both sides of each fillet with oil and butter
sprinkle seasoning atop
bake in a 350 degree oven until fish are flakey and done
8 cups of cooked cous cous( soaked in 1 cup of buttermilk)
3 cups of goats cheese
2 cups of heavy cream
2 cups of béchamel sauce
1/2 melted butter
1/2 cup of fresh chives
5 tablespoons of crushed garlic
2 cup of oven roasted turkey bacon ( cook into bits)
1/3 cup of diced fine green peppers (sautéed)
1/3 cup of crushed sun dried tomatoes
12/3 saute'd onion
1 & 1/2 cup of white cheddar
2 tablespoons of red pepper flakes
combine ingredients and bake for 25 minutes
slice fillets from a leg of lamb
about twenty slices
salt and pepper
grill (medium rare)
in a pan combine
1/3 cup of beef broth
1 cup of pomegranate juice
1/4 cup of honey
1/4 cup of lime juice
5 tablespoons of chopped rosemary
3 tablespoons of cayenne pepper
1/3 cup of sweet red wine
1 cup of unsalted pistachios
reduce sauce about half
add lamb and serve
FOR DESSERT
5 CUPS OF BROWNIE MIXED ( MIXED USING BOX RECIPE)
4 CUPS OF ANGEL FOOD ( USING BOX RECIPE)
24 DOLLOPS OF CREAM CHEESE
IN A GREASED NON-STICK MUFFIN PAN, SPOON IN TWO TABLE SPOONS OF BROWNIE MIX
AND LAYER IT WITH THE ANGEL FOOD MIX, (ABOUT 2 TABLESPOONS)
HALFWAY FULL ADD CREAM CHEESE
COVER WITH BROWNIE AND ANGEL FOOD MIX
BAKE UNTIL DONE, USING A TOOTH PICK TO CHECK
COOL MUFFINS, TOP WITH FAVORITE FROSTING AND SERVE
IN
WE BASSOON'D THE FOOD WAS DONE: SO WE ATE IT!
WE DRUMMED AND OBO'D THRU THE NIGHT
ASSUMING WE WOODWIND: WE DID!
WE DID !
in the public sphere
where all the nosey eyes peer
willing to take photos with their little phone cameras
all ready to post them on face**** & twatter
looking for reasons to feel important for
5 seconds, as the viral aspects of their own daily lives
pitter away like sand through the fingers,
the day so far has brought frustration---
no doubt the morning might have brought a child who didn’t want the
strawberry pancakes that you labored at prior to their
arrival on the scene
or the job wants you in earlier than normal
or the idiot in front of you won’t step on the gas
or the shirt your pressed the night before
grew wrinkly as you stumbled drunkenly through the savage morning routine
that society has demanded of us all &
then, just as you thought it all might stop for a moment,
another human steps into the fray---
unbeknownst to her/him,
you have already begun the fight with life on this day in question &
s/he might be doing exactly the same (giving benefit of the doubt)---
so as one thing leads to another,
be it over the last muffin on the rack in the bakery or
over a needed parking spot,
whatever the case might be,
the snapping comes simultaneously,
as mutual aggression seeps into the scenario
which neither of you expected
but secretly wanted---
and though you are taught through years & years of
oppressive conditioning
to be a good citizen
to suppress all angst until you can
deposit it in the “appropriate” receptacles,
the fuses have been lit &
neither of you have any more patience to waste on
what others would have you do
in order to make them feel more comfortable
as if all were peaches, roses &
the white picket fence---
so as the fists do follow,
the clothes being ripped, the bruises that develop,
they do not hide the fact that
you’re both still animals
who eat
who sleep
who ****
who scream &
who die---
delight in the mayhem.
His exuberance overwhelmed all that met him.
He was joyful every minute of every day He loved life and everything that beset him.
The missing rabbit that the neighbors bought their daughter for her birthday, was found snuggling with him in his kennel keeping the bitter winter winds away.
This was one yellow Labrador that was simply adored by all especially me. His name of course was Happy.
Cancer overcame our beautiful dog when he was nearly thirteen human years old. Eventually he began to suffer and the drugs didn’t seem to take hold. For the first time in his happy life his eyes dimmed, and his tail stopped wagging. It was time to stop his suffering, to stop the pain from nagging.
My son rushed out and bought him a double whopper burger and a chocolate chip muffin. Dear Happy lifted his head and munched his way through the burger. My son breaking it in pieces for him, while the vet waited, holding the syringe. This made me cringe.
Marc went to give him the muffin, I exclaimed “No, chocolate is bad for him!”
The looks from my family made me realize that I was dim, and that Chocolate chips couldn’t hurt our Happy ever again. He ate it and crossed the rainbow bridge to his new address in Puppy Heaven. Still love him after all these years – still shed tears.
But that’s not what this narrative is about.
Leaving the Doctor’s rooms, trying to keep my wheelchair straight, guiding it slowly to lessen my pain, I was going home again. No more hospitals. The diagnosis wasn’t really a surprise, and when it happens I want to be at home. My happy thought, was that I could now eat all the chocolate chip muffins I want to!
The End
( Well no, it’s not quite the end, I still have time for a poem or two and a few muffins yet. So my spirit is soaring. I also have some messages to send.) X
Non Fiction.