Long Rolling pin Poems
Long Rolling pin Poems. Below are the most popular long Rolling pin by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rolling pin poems by poem length and keyword.
A Magic Adventure of Peter The Pan/AKA Peta The Fwying Pan
Peter was a fine young pan with blue eyes
Like all the other pans his age, except,
Peter could not yet pronounce 'R's'--he tried...
And 'L's'...so hard he tried. He even wept.
School had been especially hard today
Peter had been poked, teased, and made fun of
More this day than any other school day...
And the ride home took so long on the bus.
When he came through the door, his mama knew
"Why the long face? Are you hurt? Are you sick?"
"No ma'am," said Peter, "Just tiwad fwom schoow".
"Some cookies and milk may just be the trick!"
Mama said, as Peter sat down to eat.
By now, everyone was gathered around
To hear of his day--and sneak a treat.
So he told them his story...and they frowned.
"How can someone be so cruel! Makes no sense!
You are the smartest and brightest of pans!"
Said Debbie Dishwasher-- then cycle rinsed.
The rest agreed and came up with a plan.
"Okay! It's agreed!" said Bob the blender.
"You need magic!--THAT--we can render!
Charles Chalice and Gail Goblet--my dear
Bring what you have, for this magic milk shake.
Michael Magic Grill...you go get us some beer
And also get Peter a great big steak!"
Then everyone sang together with cheer:
"A parr-ty! A parr-ty! It's a parr-ty!
We are all...having...a magic--parr-ty!"
Everyone was busy, hust'ling around.
Tams the Golden Toaster was making toast.
Tex Texas Tea Pot hummed a whist'ling sound.
David Dish and Sara Spoon danced the most,
Except for Marlon Mop--he could 'get down'!
Carol Crock Pot was fixing up the Soup.
Russell Rolling Pin had rolled out a crust
For a magic pie with love from the coop.
Joann Juicer made fresh smoothies--a must!
Suddenly...a sound was heard on the stoop...
"Who could that be? It's nearly midnight!"
Said Cyndi Chandlier all bright with light.
Christopher Cutting-board called, "I'll go see!"
Vienna Vaccume said, "Not without me!"
"Wait!" Debbie Dishwasher cried from the sink.
"Let's look at more options. We need to think.
It could be someone in need of a meal...
Or, it's a burglar--come here to steal!"
"Everyone else! Quickly! Hide inside me
Until we find out who that sound might be!"
deborah burch©
5/23/2012
*****end part I...conclusion in part II
The Second Wife
Making its round in the ever pervasive What's app world...
Is a creative and amusing anecdote to raise a smile of mirth... ...
A stressed wife, harried as always from the endless house chores....
Receives a disturbing call from her husband on the way back from work....
The loving husband, wanted to give his wife a surprise......
There was a new eatery in town, so he thought a take away dinner would be nice ...
Would be a nice treat for his lovely wife, a respite from all that daily cooking....
So he called up his wife, told her he'll bring home a dinner for that evening...
Now, that new eatery in town, it has a unique name which was catchy all the same.....
The Second Wife, emblazoned big and bold over its welcoming entrance....
In his call, said the husband, I'll bring dinner tonight from The Second Wife...
Take a break, no need to cook this evening, he said to his wife...
After the husband's surprising call about a dinner from the second wife....
The wife, she brooded and bristled at the thought of a dinner from the 2nd wife....
The wife was sorely hurt and became increasingly incensed....
Righteous anger in her being broiled and roiled inside...
How did her loving husband dare keep another woman on the side...
How can he be so insensitive as to spring this on her....
Hell hath no fury to rival the wrath of wife wronged like her...
In the intervening minutes waiting for her husband to reach her...
The furious woman plotted murder and planned vengeance to hurt...
When the hour approaches, she reached for her chosen weapon...
She strode ominously to the door, stood behind it, the rolling pin firmly gripped ...
Murderous rage in her heart, maximum damage in her mind....
Woe to the husband as he arrived, dinner in hand, relaxed evening in mind.... ....
The husband, he opened the door, packed dinner in his hand.....
He knew not what happened next, the poor man....
When the door opened, it seemed the world collapsed on the man.....
The hubby, now he is laid up in hospital, all bandaged up and clueless what happened....
Hohoho...
My heart was a happy heart, until it became broken into many pieces. How does someone speak loving words, words filled with kindness and joy. Only to set out to steal you blind, steal from a family member. Does she feel entitled to the belongs, knowing the things are not hers. Does she feel it is free stuff for the taking, so take it all for herself. I have cried over the hurt, the hurt and pain she has caused. The family things that cannot be replace, like my mother's rolling pin. All of little to no value to others, all priceless treasures that cannot be replaced to me. I cannot and will not judge, for that is God's job to do. I embrace joy and forgiveness, for I will go on my happy way. I pray her heart will be changed, changed from evil to blessings this day.
Date Written: 6/6/2021
When taking a stroll on a path filled with weeds the force fields are often not symmetrical nor are they aligned. But the shining synchronization of a sky lit sun cap can capsulize even the most untimed meal of a thought. Highlighting highways higher huge harboured harbours. In harnesses. Take no injected curd as a shirt. And generally imprisonment of bows and arrows is considered to be as detrimental as flying on the back of an air rifle or an a k 47. Into a bin. Ten ton heifers wobbling in dainty dresses. Passing posting pointing picking painting. And get a rolling pin, ten irons and ironing boards then iron output accordingly for to adjust a headdress is to float upside down in a force 209 gale over the side of a cliff holding one ear of corn, a basket, a little snail in a straw hat, and a 2000 foot ladle. Great isn't it. Wow. Wisdom wow. Week not a wreck. And wreckage is utilised in one single breath of an ancient storytelling form chanting in a mist. Seen and unseen. 5 b c. And then 13 52. And then 18 75 . And on an on an on and on. Whirling. Wave no kettle at a tree of iron mesh. And always make a nice carve in a cave. Wine arches marbles. Marvellous magnification isn't it. Gossiping grapes grabbing greedily. And a saintly seaweed arrives. Also in bed is an underwater charismatic chant. Charming. And one single 5 acres of a pickled onion can boil and burst. Digital dropping. Xxxxx cumbersome Cumberland Chambersburg clamp championship. And a dormant duck spinning. So rise and taste the heavily encrusted dew ball of a nice light fruit stew. Hahahahaha moon painted xxxxxxx coniferous clambering clam style ship to lighten loads and loaves talking about mixing bowls. In aisles. Xxxxxxx categorisation z z z z z no p y q but a large l and a big capital v
Form:
Go ahead!
Break me wide open
spread me out thin
Thin...as the dough beneath the well dusted rolling pin
Slender my edges and refine my rounded shape
push me away from you with each forceful roll
extend me
in our mutual exertion to define it
Yes...do straighten me slowly carefully gently lovingly...this time
as the white page spread beneath the 17th century palm in hopeful contemplation
Indeed serious intent born of the preciousness of the white page alone
Can you feel the writer catching his breath with which to begin
Yes I FEEL YOU catching yours just now
In brave... bravest planned intent
So... this time break me wide
But also.... then true
The confession after the lie that has lain between us for years in good stead
As the little perfect pale egg in your bowl on any given Saturday morning
with a single sudden tap
just a brisk strike
...spoken from bowed head and with averted eyes
that you will insist on bringing round to meet mine
Lest I find weakness in your delivery and once more deny you this
Go ahead...try to write out the final passages of this our tall and long tale
You may use an ink well if you wish and a quill
If it will add romance...ambiance
nuance
But first you will need to erase...the expression on your face when you last saw me for the first
Your face filled with the sudden sunlight of your own unencumbered sunrise breaking wide open
across your tired sky
at the first crest of my visage embrace
With pupils dilating and grin spread vista wide across yours only breathtaking gorgeous lined face
Go ahead mine truest love
Break me wide open for the sky
that I can love the world in perfection
Before I die
Stone set unblemished unworked faces create hardship floors on which to sip out of rock puddles. Such luxury. In a fine art landscape one must always wear clicking heels. And one must always lift ones head and toss one's bowl hairdo around. It gives an embellishment of establishment. Yet whilst closing establishments always arrange the items on the tray to perfect the mass erosion of corrosive killers. It is to be said that dueling in a spa is the undeciphed leak of a giant cat. Fat catacombs playing whilst the sky bird drops upon the earth in destructive violent ease. Smiling. Thumbs up. Goggle eyed. Then carcasses pulled by mules. In skirts. Carry no silver blade. Wear no authentic ancient dress. Don the hats and adornments of the fake. To fix a fax is to fornicate frantically causing fish to float. For danger lies in spewed out materials. Look no further than within for truths said millipede to centipede. They were crossing a heavily used junction. Look there at the fortresses and deem not of importance the wealth of a breed born. Then off. Zoom. They went zoom. Good. Gratefully grabbing garters giving greatness. And a small atomicity agonising. Not good. Not great. So no hahahaha to that fried wok explosion. Of sorts it is a curvaceously built argumentative and aromatic compound in a cutlery drawer sailing. Admirable. No not admirable. Jeer not a rolling pin shaped triangularly. Be not a bend in a lane. Xxxxx insectivorous ideologues. Xxxx bean bomb. Xxxxx destitution demon xxxxx dragline drainage basin *** cosmopolitanism z z z.
Form:
Swimming under the surface of the Pacific
Past the border of the ocean
Where the two meet, brown and blue.
Met by tiny swimming jewels here,
Living within the tall crystals,
The ecosystem of crystals
Covering the ocean floor.
Dazzles of Ruby-red, glinting almost,
Heaps of Saphire-cyan, soothing the eyes,
Just a sprinkle of Emerald-green, as if waiting to be seen,
Infestations of Citrine-yellow, seen in every eyeful,
Nippings of Amethyst-purple, just about dusting the edges.
Some look like a serving of colourful jaggedy rocks,
While others look like sharp sticks facing heavenwards.
Some look like green mega-sized blood cells covering a dome,
While others look like smashed orange plates, stuck to the side of a cliff.
Bullets of the sun penetrates through the shields of blue,
Reaching the soldiers, but as if by magic,
The bullets heal them, allow them to grow,
As if this is another one of nature’s bedazzlements.
The tiny swimming jewels,
That weave their way in and out of the crystals,
Were very diverse, even if they were family.
Some looked as if they had been run over with a rolling pin,
Then painted and finally heaved into the ocean, like a nursery project.
Whether they be dotted, spotted lined or striped,
All are welcome under the Pacific.
A work of art lies here,
Floating jewels, braided crystals,
Hazily weaved together here,
Under the pacific.
Have you heard
Of Thomas
The Rhymer
It is told
that I sprang
from his loins
Many years
Long
gone past
Yet the tales
That last
Are often quietly purloined
The story goes
He disappeared
To consort with the elfin queen
He returned
By and by
Telling this lie to any who thought it keen
Maybe he stayed
To long in
His cups to go home in disgrace
Of the dreaded din
And the rolling pin
He knew he'd surely face
So he stayed away
And worked
On his Rhymes
Till they rolled
As a river
In spring
And marched
back home
tail in the air this mythical bit to sing
Honey I was
held prisoner
By a power I couldn't prevail
She granted this
gift as she sent me away
If I promised that I would not tell
The way to
And means of her kingdom
A treasure you would not believe
When I left I'm certain
It broke her heart for
She wore it displayed on her sleeve
You my Darling Darlin
Are my very soul
Reason to live
After all this time
I convinced her
No greater wealth could she give
I know he lived
To procreate
So she killed him not on the spot
So I really should
Thank Thomas and wife
For this affliction I've got
December is approaching with gelid gusts,
soon the candid snow will spread its white blanket
and dominate the lifeless and desolate land;
nevertheless, those pallid swifts with wide wings
search for warmer places livelier and more pleasant.
Gianni and Lucy follow their flight and look sad,
no birds flying around while they build with fast hands
a fat snowman with a tomato nose and cherry eyes;
it's not what they had in mind, or saw in Winterland!
" We need a wool cap to cover his head and he'll stay warm,
if ravens come by, they'll eat the cherry and tomato and deform
his face not hearing his sobs and his tears turning to ice;
what an unhappy snowman Jerry would be without eyes and nose...
oh, if only glue could hold them in place, we would get some!"
And through the entire afternoon, they watched their snowman
ready to send away any intruders with a huge rolling pin.
Those pallid swifts with wide wings have left the hushful Whitestone*,
and proud of their work, the creators of the chubby snowman
smile and clap their hands when more snow comes down;
their dream is realized, mom rewards them with an ice cream cone!
* Whitestone, Queens, NY
On a whim,
a demon will grab a fist full of mind.
Slap it down- roll it out- sprinkle it with lye.
Then pull out its cookie cutter heart.
press down hard...real hard...
Feed pieces of sanity to its hoard.
Half devoured they crap you out.
Into the shadow of an indigo night.
Clear the eyes
of the craggy miles.
Slug down a cup of fog:
What is that sharp pain-that dull sound.
Just beyond the cobbled soul...
Something just isn't right.
Stroke the cat
sweep the floor
croak "good mornings"
shower
wash away that crazy gray:
snakes are in the showerhead...again.
Go for a long walk.
pick some daisies.
sometimes that helps ...
but not today.
Hissing is in the swaying veins of the leaves,
the locust eat throat deep into peace...
Stagger toward home into a hearth of talking bones.
Read the daily dread.
Stroke the cat again.
take another nap.
Pray for a warm breeze dream to move the bloom of life.
Back into its golden vase to temper the pendulum.
Sweep the suckling demons from the chest...
Where the hell is my rolling pin god in all this ffin mess?