Long Shortbread Poems
Long Shortbread Poems. Below are the most popular long Shortbread by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Shortbread poems by poem length and keyword.
Why, do we call it
Something it’s not
If we’re going to name things
Let’s give it, some thought
If it’s called a chilli
Then why is it so hot
And I can say this
A guinea pig, is not
A prairie dog
He only digs holes
But this dog belongs
With rodents and moles
If you eat an elder berry
You won’t get to retire
But a taste for them
You must acquire
If I strike a ball
And this gets me pissed
In real life, I hit it
But in baseball, I missed
That horned toad
Isn’t a wizard
Not even a frog
It’s just a lizard
A pencil with lead
That’s just a myth
It’s really graphite
That we write with
A simple door mouse
Is really neither
It’s just a squirrel
Taking a breather
It’s not a firefly
Lighting the dark
It’s only a horny beetle
That has the spark
And who gives us silk
Not that silkworm
It’s really caterpillars
That wiggle and squirm
Bears have no pouch
But Koala bears do
It’s a marsupial
I thought you knew
To some this may not
Be a big deal
But wasn’t Achilles
Really a heel
That majestic bald eagle
His head is not bare
And that speedy jackrabbit
Is really a hare
A Turkish bath
Invented by a Roman
And catgut intestines
From sheep abdomen
A shooting star
That isn’t right
It’s always been
A meteorite
A peanut a nut
You would presume
Nope, not a chance
It’s a legume
A Douglas fir
Is only a pine
And that funny bone
It’s not, by design
Cucumbers and tomatoes
This is a hoot
They are not veggies
They’re really a fruit
A duck bill is not
A duck’s paper money
And bees didn’t make
My little honey
Hamburgers are made
With beef and not pork
And how come those hot dogs
At strangers don’t bark
Sometimes you get
A really dumb waiter
But not in a restaurant
It’s an elevator
Eye tooth is a dog’s tooth
But not in his eye
This kind of name
Just makes me cry
A killdeer is not roadkill
That’s just absurd
It really is
A wading bird
Duck weed is a water lily
Dog wood is a bush
An ear wig is an insect
And your ass is a tush
Shortbread is a cookie
And a jumping bean is a seed
And things we misname
Only tend to mislead
BOEMS by JA 134
Among the hearing participants, some stayed put, some cast curious eyes outside with craned necks, some stood up and began to pace around or away, but nobody was seriously scared, nor were there any corporeal conflicts between the two sides, clearly showing a tacit sense that those forcible-feeble gofers dare not indulge themselves into any tangible transgressions in earnest, contrary to what they vaunted early amid Mutt Gaets' pep-talk.
Shortly after, Schiff got through to Pelosi and told her what happened to his closed door hearing.
Pelosi: Eh! Not bad! You've experienced long calm spells, isn't a rare storm an alternative relish?
Schiff feigned to worry badly: Uh, stop piling on our agony with your black humor. The mob's testing the Capitol Police in capability and promptness, testing hearing participants in patience and equanimity as well as ~~~~
Pelosi cut him short: Oh, Schiff, things are not so serious. Don't get daunted by the storm troopers in name only, for quite some may be press-ganged. Give them a diversion, the mob can be scattered soon.
Schiff: Uh~~~good. But what kind of diversion?
Pelosi: Be attentive. Don't neglect items of daily consumption, and certainly you'll hit it.
Schiff looked around, silent for seconds but soon Pelosi's voice rang to his ears:Why not treat them to some snacks? Say, cookie, pizza, shortbread~~~ Schiff:Pizza! Eureka! Most of these pitiable gofers run errands empty-bellied, and we have stored enough pizzas. Terrific tip! Thanks!
Schiff hang up and let a Capitol employee seek pizzas for that bunch of bozos. Soon the employee came out with a bin of pizzas either half-done or overdone, or either crusty or rusty. Schiff frowned on these unsightly pizzas: Lordy! All look like molding from stool hoopers, and smell a bit stale at that. Just these left?
The employee nodded helplessly: Yeah! Right.
Schiff: Oh, how came?
Employee:Not clear. Maybe the bakers on morning shift happened to be rookies.
Schiff: Uh~~well, the situation is too pressing to allow us to be considerate. Hand them out.
Form:
I love your heathered highlands,
steep cliffs and rugged islands,
hedges and gardens under
rainclouds of grey.
Old steeples rise above
those small rural towns I love;
your hillsides of sunny yellow,
rolled bales of hay.
Pipers will play their part
stirring each Scottish heart
binding together a nation
drenched with pride.
"Scotland the Brave" is ringing,
dancers are highland flinging -
proud Scottish hearts are singing,
joy wells inside.
O, highland games of yore
with racers and tug-of-war,
the cabers are tossed asunder
by mighty men.
I love your farmlands rustic,
mountains and lochs majestic,
as kilts of many tartans
hike through the glen.
Pipers will play their part
stirring each Scottish heart
binding together a nation
drenched with pride.
"Scotland the Brave" is ringing,
dancers are highland flinging -
proud Scottish hearts are singing,
joy wells inside.
Castles with ancient hist'ry,
Celt runes of ancient myst'ry,
we sing an "Auld Lang Syne"
and toast Robbie Burns.
Clans clad in plaid will whistle
fondly of Lion and Thistle,
dressing with tartan kilts
their wee bonnie bairns.
Hands high, your dancers dance -
crossed swords, I'm in a trance,
pipes heard for miles
with that old familiar blare.
St. Andrews' cross - the flag is
don't ask what's in the haggis!
Just eat your shortbread
and be glad you were there.
//These reflect some of my favorite memories from the 6 months I lived in Scotland, in 1990. I miss her dearly and hope I may be able to return some day. These words may be sung to "Scotland the Brave", a beloved anthem of Scottish national pride. You can hear it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KzK2PWVQYX0
The tempo of this recording is much faster than I prefer, but I include it here in case you have never had a chance to hear this wonderful patriotic song. //
Written 24 Mar 2021
I.
He lives inside me,
not sleeping—just leaning
against the dark rafters of my chest.
A moss-backed troll
I call him Atlas, though he looks
more like the rock in his garden—
He keeps a room beside the heart—
spare bed, mildew in the corners,
but the sheets stay stiff with cold.
He’s always stationed
between the valves and the ribs,
elbows locked against my sternum,
holding the cage from inside.
In case the heart kicks hard enough
to shatter her way out.
He doesn’t smile, doesn’t blink—
just tightens his grip
when she dreams of rose fields
beyond the ribs
Too dangerous. He’d mutter,
Not worth the risks
The heart stamps, her veins scream,
her tears flood the lungs breathless—
Old Atlas sighs—
his breath a wisp of forest green smoke
But when she grew tired and
gave up for the night
his pebble eyes soften
toward the silence she left behind
II.
We share a pot of tea
Me and Atlas, after the heart went to sleep
—He still keeps a hand on the bones
“Why don’t you let go for a while?” I ask
His pebble eyes soften as steam rises
A boulder can survive the fall,
but she’s made of glass with hairline cracks
“A fall?” I ask after offering biscuits
He takes one and tosses it out, we watch
the shortbread rolls down, the road uncharted
They say the fall is there, at the end of the road
“They?” the golden sweet disappear into the mist
The ones before me, their warnings
came stirring in the wind
“They could be mistaken,”
the warm buttery crust melts into my throat
“Beyond the unknown could be a field of roses.”
Old Atlas sips tea, then shakes his unwieldy head
The moss on his body rustles—
a hushed but heavy sigh
I am from modest trailer park play
From dandelion picking in the neighbors field of yellow weeds, to building snow caves in the yard
I am from a short drive to Grandma's’ house,
A place of domino games and shortbread cookie making
I am from long nights of monopoly and
tears shed
Over the loss of yet another game to an elder sibling.
I’m from a change of heart,
Two fell in love and one found the other’s source of peace and truth
I’m from calm, serious personalities,
and the outgoing, energetic opposites
from “I call shotgun!” and “Don’t sweat the small stuff.”
I’m from the yearly viewing of It’s a Wonderful Life
And watching tears flow down the cheeks of a strong Father, as the end credits start to play,
From coming to understand the importance of your impact on the people around you.
I’m from a love of nature and genetic food expertise
Shaped by outdoor adventures, and a seemingly inherited trait of mad baking skills
From enjoying steaming hot chocolate in grandpa's tiny camper,
To canning in the midst of generations of knowledgeable hands.
My church, my town, my family and my scars
A tiny town which will always be home, a base of unquestionable love through the fear of surgery
From the belief of a seed, to the revealed knowledge of a stalwart tree.
I am from those precious moments of everyday life, faith, support and conquered fear
And this is merely the beginning.
Form:
she babbled over the gosip.
citing what she thought was fair.
She mentioned people she knew and some
she didn't know. And emsized who didn't care
if they cared they'd be here helping wiff the pies
or they'd be offering up some cake. these people
are lacking common courtesy and
common sense she spoke for goodness sakes!
AH_OOH-AH_OOH
is a shortbread cookie dough baked
and then filled with a sweet meriquene
It's twice baked until golden brown
and filled with strawberries and whipped cream
and a sweet strawberry wine sauce.
the other pie she mentioned was a myth: a myth due
to the fact that it's hard to get the
right balance of chocolate and bourbon.
a mixed graham cracker and sweet doughy crust
with a cream cheese sweet potatoes filling
topped with mixture of heath bars and pecans
and bourbon: and marshmallows, in a brownie crumbly topping.
Entree included and not limited too.
A dish of roasted pork sliced and served with
mushrooms,olives,panchette,onions,
roasted red bell pepper garlic in a crisped
Duchess potatoes served with a light
sherry and pork gravy.
Oven roasted asparagus
and a Four Lettuce chicken salad with
Yogurt and Goat cheese
dressings with garlic croutons
and a choose of salad dressing.
And the perfect Yeast rolls and biscuits!
Something to inspire a competitive Food Championship
series!
"I must center myself to be
as arrogant as you wish me to be.
I must be as Pompous and
selfish
as one must be
to be considered Best!"
I love girl scout cookies!
Whew! I’m glad I got that off my chest.
Personally I think that trefoils and tagalongs are the best
I love the taste of shortbread and that peanut butter crunch BUT
in a pinch I’ll eat a thin mint…or that one with coconut.
And even though the increase in price sometimes makes me pause
I gladly hand over the money…
after all…it goes to a good cause.
This year they added a new flavor destined to make me fat
They put lemon glaze on the shortbread…OMG…Imagine that!
Each Lemon Up cookie has an intention…a mission
an ambition…a lofty goal
Each one is imprinted with a message
to be imprinted on my soul.
They tell me I’m a leader…I’m a risk taker
unlike the trefoil or tagalong…
that I’m an innovator
a go getter
they tell me I am strong…
Which is why when I took out my first lemon up
I was taken aback…appalled
When I read the message on my cookie
and it told me…I am bald.
“Although it’s true, what an odd message to put on a cookie.” I said to Deborah
She smiled and said, “Jim…you’re getting old
your cookie doesn’t say I am bald
your cookie says, I am bold.”
“Well that makes more sense.” I laughed
as I boldly ate my cookie…
every bite
hoping next year they’ll add one with carrots
to help improve my sight.
In an increasingly competitive world
It’s easy to stop:
Go to the shop
Buy a tea with a chocolate shortbread
Bury your head.
Starting out when everyone else did years ago
Another wrinkle, another blemish
Its easy to stop:
I should be teaching
Not studying
Employing
Not applying
Well, for 15 years I paid my taxes
Is that enough?
She’s foreign and she’s got a job
She applied from her country and came here and started work immediately
She lost her job, got another in a week
She changed her career, didn’t like it, changed back again and got a job
Wet washing smelling from being too long in the machine,
Cleaning the microwave plate,
Picking up broken toy handcuffs from the floor,
No time to clear the paraphernalia that comes through the door
Odd socks strewn carelessly
Dirty children’s underpants staring up at me
Empty WOTSIT packets under the sofa
The rush of London passes me by
I sigh,
Another day
Of trying to be someone
Trying to achieve something
Trying to fulfil
Losing the will
Do it I will!!!
I’m still
Today I’ll wrap up
And put away
Until tomorrow
Chicken curry worry about finances
of dinners on the table consisting of
bank statements eat paper water vapour
smoke out the room bloom gloom monsoon
of tears flood of blood crashing wave frequency
in the crooked shack in The middle of nowhere.
Stairs enhanced mechanical bannisters coiling round the
metal frames of this game disdain.
Retain my shivers quivers kitchen livers blisters serious series of rhymes that just shoot out like bullets through a glass canvas
We're at the bottom of the stairs
So take some wine and shortbread with you as you make your way through the misted night of lights blue ambience playing like a cutscene of dreams gleam let your imagination run away with you.
Walking down the quaint city street entering the sweetshop,
Oh yes! Hershey’s Almond Milk Chocolate tasty flavor
Sweetheart chooses sweet licorice and hot fudge brownie delight,
Sweetie pie and I flavor sweetmeat crystallized fruit.
Sweet tooth such a happy mouth vibrato to have;
Healthy sweet corn with sweet pepper and sweet-and-sour
Rest in front of my Dear Heart and I with a sweet pea,
Sweet cherry edible fruit on ice cream dessert, oh yum!
Sweet sultan annual herb varicolored flower in garden
Touches sweet acacia shrub fragrant flowers for perfumery,
Enjoying sweet basil on my sweet potato pie with my Sugar Love
Sweet nothings sound to wife trompe l’oeil painted photographic reality.
Sweet cicely herb white flowers brighten garden sipping
Sweet cider with cinnamon and raspberry shortbread warm
Soul with endearments, together speaking love honestly husband
Wife meshed together in all things sharing sweet clover; blessed.