Long Sundae Poems
Long Sundae Poems. Below are the most popular long Sundae by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sundae poems by poem length and keyword.
You are my life and in that I believe
Always my love will be only for you
Flattering though that sounds I must confess
My first love is chocolate - sad but true
Sensual visions to capture the feel
Bringing the contours of wind sculpted plains
Hold that thought even though I love it so much
Must let the dog out before he drives me insane
Shimmering soft on the eclipse of love
Cloudless these evenings of star sprinkled mist
Just looked - no lustrous stars in this sooty sky
But stay for chocolate drizzled cake - I do insist
I drink in your fragrance
Tasting the flavors, your moistened lips
I heard something of interest today,
Chocolate doesn’t go to the hips
Kiss me ‘midst the maples
Kiss me ‘long the shore
Kiss me o’ my precious one
Now and ev’r more
Its thirsty work I must confess
This kissing and walking along the shore
A chocolate sundae sounds rather good
At that quaint little place that I do adore?
I see, I see, in front of me
Dessert, dessert, set out for free
My! you do know how to set the mood
I can’t go past this - you do know me
The night feels right the lights are turned low
What’s this the video has stopped? Hello!!
Johnny has left the building? Just when I wanted more
No matter- my debonair poet of delight
Conjure me up some George Clooney tonight
Well set aside your chocolate pie
For Hollywood is coming by
And as you explore your favorite star
I’ll enjoy that Hershey bar
Oh Fickle Heart chocolate second placed?
From gold to silver - it’s now displaced
Footnote:
I’ve used George Clooney as he is globally acclaimed as the most favored flavor in the ratings.
Personally, I favor the more 'Bono' type - (I love his voice)
Paul David Hewson, known by his stage name Bono, is an Irish singer-songwriter, musician.
Acknowledgement:
My deepest appreciation to Chris Green, poet extraordinaire for sparing some of his wonderful talent and collaborating with me to bring you this arrangement.
Copyright © Maria Williams & Chris Green | 12 July 2017
For this is not the end of this obscene occurrence,
nor is it the start, my dear guests.
Somewhere down the middle of this table
you sit before me, with empty ice creams cones,
curious as to what you are to do them.
Preposterous, I know. All I can say, is that I hope you have good reflexes
and hand eye coordination.
Tick tock, tick...
"TIME", I scream before one can ask what about the time?
It starts,-the magnificent madness. Oh, how I do love this part.
Swoosh, splat!
That's where all the ice cream got to, I chuckle loudly to myself.
Guests, I plead of you, try and be a bit tidier with your eating habits.
"But Sir Scream-A-Lot, it wasn't I", murmurs the small red headed pig tail girl.
"The ice cream just came out of nowhere, in such obscene abundance,
almost like falling rain from the sky", adds the wise old bearded man.
Ladies and gentleman, fools and gypsies,
gnomes and squirrels, welcome to the humble establishment
of where the mad ice cream man resides, and believe me he's "mad".
Have you ever travelled so far the chase after that most irritating music,
or ran so fast to catch up with the man, just to forget what flavour you wanted?
Chocolate dipped, extra sprinkles, sundae with hot fudge and more; why so many choices?
Here at the humble home of the ice cream man, you mustn't worry
for you have access to as much ice cream that tickles your fancy.
There is a catch, I am afraid; the man is a little mad,
lost too many brain cells douching himself in cream,
mad in the sense that he is strictly crazy you see. He through's the ice cream at you,
every hour, on the hour to be precise,
well into the air more or less.
Many thanks must be awarded to our highly advanced, high speed,
mess operating powered ice cream projectors.
Tick tock, tick...
"TIME" again. Swoosh, splat!
I must also add,
that our sense of time here is a little distorted some days,
all based on how the man is feeling you see.
Beep, beep, bop...
"sigh", I am being summoned my lovely guests
and must sadly leave you in all your icy, messy splendour.
"Don't forget, this is not the end", I scream as I wonder off.
And the moral of the story is,
perhaps one should think twice before they scream for ice cream.
When I was a child, children were chattel, threatened by our parents and our preacher.
We did not even dare whisper a tiny bit of a sliver of a question at our teacher.
Today’s brazen un-mothers drop their children off for breakfast, lunch and supper.
They have school toilets destroyed before you can spell the word ‘upper.’
The well-behaved, socialized, well-mannered children experience a daily scene
Of how fast our wild ones can commandeer the classroom, showing their mean
They respect no one. Least of all themselves. They refuse to go to a buddy room.
They yell cuss words, and they make noises that are worse than a rocket’s zoom.
What do they receive for disrupting the classroom day after day, in non-moderation?
Rewards in the form of extra recess, basketball, an elaborate celebration.
How this magnificent reward system for bad behavior has backfired is anyone’s guess.
Some of our other children, are starting to throw chairs, wanting to be in this mess.
Is it the prizes, the chocolate sundae bar, the cash? Is it the three hour play on the swings?
Is it the McDonald’s lunch they receive, while the rest are eating lukewarm onion rings?
Is it the laughs they get watching their well-behaved classmates sitting down hard and bored?
Is it that they see the tally sheet, and they realize they are the only ones who scored?
One of our five-year-olds has our school in lock-down mode daily, never there or here.
His teacher is counting the days until break, so she can start interviewing for a different career.
What started out as simple defiance is in full-blown mode now. Our fire escape is broken,
Most white boards and windows have been destroyed, and this is but a brief token.
Is it mean to ask about the rights of the other twenty-six children in the class?
Is it okay to wonder, how in the world in math and reading they will ever pass?
Ask your grandchildren if I am right, and then run to school and for the good ones, please fight.
Written 12-06-2018 Contest: Let ‘Er Rip Sponsor: John Lawless
Be it known as convenience food, junk food or munchies;
whether spicy, melt-in-your-mouth soft, or crunchy,
food, inglorious food, seduces with ease
and ensnares with the emptiest of calories.
Disguised as a comfort food comes macaroni
with creamy Alfredo and kin, Fettucini,
To not be outdone, spaghetti entices
with large fattening meatballs and sauce rich in spices.
“Deep fried” knows our weakness for fat, which gives pleasure
and saturates fast foods, it seems, in great measure:
KFC (finger-licking), batter-fried fishes
and chicken fried steaks -high cholesterol dishes.
Even fruits will attack with enjoyment unhealthy
as tarts, pies or pastries. That apple is stealthy!
Veggies can also be treacherous things
in guise of corn fritters and gold onion rings.
Too much of a good thing is pizza (so cunning,
so meaty, so cheesy), which no one is shunning.
The taco, burrito, and big burger too
in great numbers descend on us. What can we do?
Those delectable luscious desserts that we eat
have only to sit there; we cannot retreat!
Candies and chocolate, our decadent sin,
sweetly defeat us. We simply give in.
Ice cream, a smooth foe, knows when we are blue.
On a cone or a spoon, it drips, waiting for you.
As a milkshake, a frosty, a sundae or float,
or between split bananas, it sure floats MY boat!
Buttered popcorn is one salty foe, and we love it!
The hot dog implores in our mouths that we shove it.
Baked bread, so alluring, entraps with its scent,
which wafts through the air as if heaven sent!
The standards of junk food -America’s pride -
crisp bacon and nachos, chips and foods fried,
invade our malls’ food courts and lurk high and low.
Their smells overwhelm us wherever we go!
We might try but we can’t make our junk food desist.
for only the health nuts can dare to resist.
In the war with inglorious food I adore,
I say, Bring it on! Here’s my plate; I want more.
For the The Synathroesmic Cat Contest Poetry contest of Suzanne Delaney
*So now you can all know why I try to get to the gym a lot. hahaha
Is Mc'quarie bank loosing the plot? as it dreams gray digits
And attempts in fact a blot.! To remove the lifelines of cheuqe and cash, that bedrock.' Australia this is like a sneak attack smash grab.?
From surfers to cockys, townspeople.. All walks' if you are
Honest you'll agree (cash talks) it talks to me of an impulse
Spend' a day on the beach..Would sure make amends! for
Drab old lockdowns as davos ordered..Give me an ice cream
Sundae or a real good steak and large chip order.! With a little cash stash
Maybe I'd buy a new ute.? Or a vintage monaro on the road
Would be beaut.! Remember Peter Brock and Alan Moffat? the
Speedway duels each try'n to grab it' like rockets! that Bathurst 5000
Had!
Duck hunting season, the outside fires and laughs with
Some reason.' Hard men at work.' Yet who'd clown and play
Many minds alike are my thoughts today.? Yet its still there
I reckon.?? (THAT AUSSIE SPIRIT.) women and men who have
No limit 'who'll sleep out under the southern cross, whose
Eyes are sharp whose hands will turn, the wheel of life
Till the axle burns.' Their forbears cut the ironbarks down, they split
Rocks! drove the roads ( they played their part ) in heat and cold! and many of
Whom though were of limited script..Yearned for better and
Provided it.' Their sweat built Monash.' They inspired so
Many.' Now rise bronzed nation and don't take any.' Any more
B S... I say search your thoughts.!! And sidline those who
Were cheaply bought! Remove the cowards; the double
Minded.' And show this world that Aussie itself, again is finding! Your
Fame is waiting to be reprized! take the initiative all stand strong!
Front and sides..' sing out to each other' work to help like Simmo did.' Yet here on your own land' protecting the women and kids!
Support the true medics like Brighthope and Hobart
Listen to John Staoleton his journalisam is also part.'
Call out the ones who did you wrong, its all on the line now.!
Don't let it go, for just; a sad old cracked song!
Only four stairs to ascend!
And with a broken leg on the mend?
It felt like a wet noodle.
Or more aptly, hot Stroodle .
Hanging on to that railing for dear life,
As though we were husband and wife.
With a six foot grandson at the top of the
stairs.
My daughter below, in case I flop like a
gigantic Black bear!
Determined as heck to see my dear cat.
By the time, I reached the top, I was
Feeling as a dead rat.
By then, I wanted to walk on my own
floors.
Which were as difficult to maneuver
as rotted out, warped doors!
Nothing at all felt good nor right to me,
Til I saw my calico cat trotting over....
whoopee!
Those calico colors , so sundae like!
I heard her joke and whisper so softly..
“ Hello, Mountain Mike! “
She asked questions, that nobody could hear.
She purred so sweetly, “Hello, Mommy, dear!
Then, Irene, asked, “ When are you coming
back home?
Two months alone is far too long for any cat
daughter to roam!”
I simply had no answer to give!
The pain so intense, I thought I had not
long to live.
So, I promised her, I was doing my best!
And her Mom, Mountain Mike, would be
returning for another stair test.
Till one day, our lives would be as they
once serenely once were.
Writing poetry, waiting for spring and
petting her glistening fur.
Pondering the moon, with her paws
about my neck.
‘Tis heaven for me on this earth, for
without you, Irene, life makes no sense,
and is but a torturous wreck!
Dedicated to Irene, my dear cat!
Missing you,
Mom
Special Acknowledgment to:
Am Gilmore, my thoughtful friend who has
penned eloquent poems about my cat, Queen Irene.
Ann is an outstanding and loving friend, everyday!
Thanks, Ann
And to my daughter, Elena, who is my 24 hour a
day caregiver, 7days a week.
I do not know how she does it!
And thanks to Eddie, who helped with
the stairs. Congrats on your high GPA
Mom and Grandother
12/8/2022
there was a little girl
who saw me and came up to me
and said, 'you are that unseen guy
who writes poems'
i nodded my head yes with a smile
and asked her how she knew
she told me that my poems got her
through her many times in the hospital
i asked her what her name was
she said with a surefire tone of confidence
'CONSTANCE'
i tell confident constance that it is a pleasure to meet her
she answered back 'likewise', making me laugh
she told me that she was diagnosed with eye cancer
i asked her how she was able to read my poems
she told me 'on a good day when my vision is not blurry'
she went on to tell me about her bulging eye, the shadows, and the wiggly lines
i asked her if she was ever, in some parts, blind
she shook her head no with a 'thank God!' look on her face
i asked her what was her favorite poem
she exclaimed 'ALL OF THEM!'
she had a copy of one of my poems in her left hand
i noticed this and she laughed as she figured out my look
while still laughing, she said 'I DID THAT FOR A REASON!'
i took the copy of the poem
it was BUTTERSCOTCH IS STILL A FRIEND OF MINE
i asked why that one was her favorite
she replied by saying 'because i too like butterscotch'
i then offered to take her to a place to get a butterscotch dipped cone
she shook her head and said 'make it a butterscotch sundae and you got me'
i said okay and promised her that i would not forget the cherry on top
i signed her copy of my poem, asked her mother for permission,
and off we went
we all had a good time that day, and i am glad that i blessed constance and her mom with that memory
here we are now, exactly a year and a half after that standout memory,
kissing constance's little forehead in a butterscotch colored casket
her eye cancer returned more aggressive and spread to her brain
i put seven butterscotch discs right at her heart to have in heaven
The visible world
And the Universe,
- (Little as we know of it)
Have the indefinable stamp
Of personality on them.
That is clear - even to fools.
Meanwhile in our world,
Hawking and Dawkins –
Dr. Woe and Dr. No
Sam Harris and all the rest
Stumble about
In tiny circles
And shout -
“We have no doubt
Physics exist and scientific method too,
The rest of it is an irrational zoo
Of superstitious nonsense!
God does not exist,
Nor do I,
It is all a dream,
Pie in the sky.”
Then Dawkins says he’s hungry
And Hawking says he’s thirsty
And Sam Harris, sitting
On the fence, smartly dressed, says:
“Chocolate fudge for me.”
Only the restaurant doesn’t exist!
No Dunkin’ Donuts
No McDonalds
No TGIFs or Ruby Tuesdays.
“We shall wait a trillion years,” concludes Dawkins,
“No, a trillion, trillion, years,” says Hawking,
“And then what?” asks Sam Harris?
“Then you will get fudge,” says Hawking, smirking.
“By the law of random numbers,
Chocolate fudge will be reconstituted
Out of atoms.”
“But, says Sam, logical to the last,
“I cannot wait 100 trillion years for my sundae!”
“In the case,” says Dawkins, “you’ll have to die.”
“Why?”
“Why? – Have you gone mad?
- You know that you can’t ask “why”,
It is an illegitimate question.
It’s like asking, “Why do birds fly?”
“Well, why do they?” asks Sam Harris.
“I can give you the equations,” says Hawking
Just then there is a boom, like thunder.
“What was that?” say Dawkins and Hawking.”
“Wait!” says, Sam Harris – who suddenly goes pale:
“That was God, fellas.”
“So what is the scientific answer?” says Hawking.
Sam goes red.
“Well, actually fellows, she said:
“Tell Hawking to answer the question why birds fly
In plain language, not by equations.”
“Here is a pot of glue Hawking,” says Dawkins.
“What for?” says Hawking.
“Because now you are stuck!” says Dawkins,
Laughing his head off..
I know how to find
Something silver like a dime
Just like brew in a stein
I wanted it to be mine
Without a decline
Decided to take the time
Challenge to bend my legs
Which were stiffened like pegs
But it is something I must do
Acting like a fool
Thinking I was cool
It made sense
For ten cents
Going down
My muscles started to frown
It was then
I must defend
My youthful athletic life
Before having my lovely wife
Stated its toll
And I needed to fold
“Honey I am stuck!
This dime was not a penny for good luck,
I cannot move in any way!
Was the true pay,”
I did answer
The question from my bride once a dancer
Stage name prancer
Having moves and curves
I got what I deserved
Laughing like a pitcher striking out a batter
She wanted to know “What’s the matter?
What happened?
Did you get an aging zap pin?
From playing a game
When in school everyone knew your name.”
I responded
In my wedding bliss bonded
“Oh, my cheerleader
Ever so sweeter
Can you get that dime?
That would be ever so kind
Then straighten my back
From this attack"
“Okay honey
We will do this for the money
Down there
Due to no one really giving a care”
Picking the coin up
My dear dropped it in a cup
Standing alone in the windowsill
Waiting to be changed into a bill
I gave her a thank
And said we need to take the dime to the bank
“But I have a nickel,” she replied
And wanted me to give her a ride
To the five and dime store
Where she could score
An excuse for us
To enjoy our lifelong trust
Over a sundae for two
Telling each other ‘I love you’
Taking Wing
Written by David
I’m thankful everyday to have you by my side…there is no need to hide…I’m going along with the ride
I lived on the edge for too long now…
I will rise from the ashes one way or another
I can’t pretend that everything will be a sundae with a cherry on top
No one is available to listen to me once more…
I was once a bird, taking wing and having so much fun…
Am I trapped in here for others’ pleasure?
Why can’t I fly and feel the sun,
Caress my wings with warm-hearted affection beyond measure?
My guardian angel of light; shimmer anew with all of your perpetual might
So I sit down and pout and jot down everything that’s on my mind
Lies chased me down…this road of frustration
And I’m falling away into the black hole of my nightmares
I believed in you and you put me down…
Caged for no apparent reason…
Am I trapped in here for others’ pleasure?
Why can’t I fly and feel the sun,
Caress my wings with warm-hearted affection beyond measure?
I look up to you and I admire your halo, hovering around your head gaily and vibrantly…do you still abide –
I’m shattered…and I’m in disbelief…
You disappointed me with your wolf-in-sheep’s-clothing words
I’m scared and in anguish…I need some relief
Right now… I feel like I’m in captivity, freaking out like a thousand birds…
I was once a bird, taking wing and then you shot me down with your negativity and your discouragement of plenty…but I kept on biting the bullets, so put down that gun…
Am I trapped in here for others’ pleasure?
Why can’t I fly and feel the sun,
Caress my wings with warm-hearted affection beyond measure?
D-do you still abide in the light or are you a fallen angel who fell victim to the lusts of midnight?