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Numbers

I like the generosity of numbers.
The way, for example,
they are willing to count
anything or anyone:
two pickles, one door to the room,
eight dancers dressed as swans.

I like the domesticity of addition--
add two cups of milk and stir--
the sense of plenty: six plums
on the ground, three more
falling from the tree.

And multiplication's school
of fish times fish,
whose silver bodies breed
beneath the shadow
of a boat.

Even subtraction is never loss,

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poem by Mary Cornish
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Patisserie

'Caramel slice please and
coconut cookie with
takeaway mocha and
I'll try chai latte..er..
make them both skinnies, we're
meant to be dieting'.

Conical croquenbouche
passes majestically
drawing appreciative
sighs for it's artistry.

Senior regulars
meeting for coffee say
'You make them Diane, you
know how we like them and
Bet has a muffin and
Dot wants a lamington'.

Rubenesque customer

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poem by Diane Hine
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Happiness

What is happiness?
Happiness is complete bliss.
Happiness is eating ice cream with extra cookie dough.
Happiness is reading an intense novel.
Happiness is being cured of depression.
Happiness is jumping up &down for no good reason and watching peoples faces light up with joy on seeing u acting crazy
Happiness is the felling u get when u help the guy u might have a crush on get the girl he wants.
Happiness is making sure evreyone around u is happy before u r.
Happiness is crying all that bottled up stress away.
HAPPINESS IS COVERING UP YOUR PAIN SO PEOPLE CAN THINK YOUR HAPPY, TO BE HAPPY
Happiness is seeing the cute smile of 'the guy 'who is in your science class.
Happiness ios seeing 'that guy'act like an idiot so many times my stomach hurts from laughing to hard
Happiness is seeing your 2 year old brother hug &kiss ur 3 month year old sister
Happiness is looking at the extravigent stars and plants at night
Happiness is seeing the 'O Matra Luna, Regina Noces '-o mother moon queen of the night
Happiness is happiness there is no other way to explain it better = ]

poem by Beth Vasquez
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A Roving Band Of Lovers

They were a Roving Band of Lovers
kissing hands
smiling and winking.

They bowed to old ladies on the streets
over-tipped waiters
gave young girls flowers
for no reason.

They never cried;
stood on tip-toe
and invited people
to see Infinity;
did dances in the streets
and little plays in the subways;

carried around little cookie trays
made music with harmonicas.

They were a Little Band of Roving Lovers

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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Unrest in the Kingdom of London Dairy? (Sung God Save the Queen or My Country tis of Thee)

The real verses The parody

God save our gracious Queen God save our Dairy Queen
Long live our noble Queen, No fancy shakes to be seen,
God save the Queen: God save the Queen
Send her victorious, Ice cream floats and fries,
Happy and glorious, Cheeseburgers you should try
Long to reign over us: Blizzards and Malts oh my
God save the Queen. God save the Queen

O Lord, our God, arise, DQ cakes, what’s at stake,
Scatter thine enemies, Chili dogs, Strawberry Cheesequakes
And make them fall: And make a small dipped cone
Confound their politics, Blizzards as Snickers or Oreos
Frustrate their knavish tricks, Chocolate Cookie Dough
On thee our hopes we fix: Let’s have cappuccino
God save us all. God we haven’t grown

Thy choicest gifts in store, Your choicest treats in store
On her be pleased to pour; You can’t each much more

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poem by Joe Rosochacki
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Hoping With Their Fingers Crossed

From the very moment they raided the kitchen,
To leave the cupboards and the shelves empty and bare...
Those who had been entrusted,
To oversee the supply in abundance there...
But stole what they could,
And ran like lieing thieves who connived...
Are now back on the scene in the same suits and ties.
Hoping with their fingers crossed,
That no one remembers who had their fingers in the cookie jars...
Long before their attempts to place the blame,
On the ones who came with rolled up sleeves and one purpose...
To permanently rid every rodent and remodel the entire house,
With a fresh coat of paint and furnishings...
That will restore accountability and integrity,
To once again have the occupants...
And everyone in the neighborhood,
Feeling proud that someone has focused with priority...
To finally move forward by naming every rat trying to come back,
These crooks are now on the defensive and innocence in their eyes...
Also display gestures,

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Motown (In Remembrance Of...)

Where are the sounds of Motown now?
That innovative and daring reach to be different!
Nothing today can captivate...
Except Beyoncé who tintillates imaginations!
Taking her creativity to fresh and new dimensions.
Blazing with excitement that awakens,
A dormant void of cookie cutter mass produced
Sameness that lacks snap and crackle!

Where are the sounds of Motown now?
There is no 'beat' today that repeats or come close,
To those Brewster Project folks...
Who toasted all of Detroit back then!
Every released song was a 'gem' it seemed.
Evoked from the mind of Berry Gordy's dream!
And today we listen to celebrated crap!
From 'ghetto stars' who make millions...
Lifting 'originality' tweaked off stolen tracks!

I wish that Motown could come back!

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Mockery

how does it feel to be mocked at?
children chase you and laugh at you,
and call you crazy

you react, you want to be a child
and wanting to play and they mock you further
you're big enough to be their monster cookie

your friends say there is something wrong with you
in fact, everything is wrong
your nose not in its place and your face is twisted
at your back they say
this man is crazy
he must be reported to the police

one day you find your family disregarding you
you have become Kafka's cockroach and shall suffer
the same fate
as his short story

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Of The Meaning...

of the meaning of love
thought streams trail loosely
shrill cat screams cut across midnight alley
car horns arabesque in the moonlight

of the purpose of existence
a tangled miasma of dirty laundry
mixed with strands of seaweed
hung from a mermaid’s torso

of the understanding of knowledge
cellar mice laugh at the uneaten cheese
trashers pick the dipsy dumpster
clothes pins on a daisy chain clothes line

of the reason we argue
cellophane candy wrappers
rolled into a ball the size
of chicago that ate the planet jupiter

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poem by Theresa Haffner
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twas The Night Before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas
when all through my house
not a creature was stirring,
not even a mouse.
But that would soon change
beginning at 5: 00.
For my grandkids were coming
and when they'd arrive
everything would change all in a minute.

I, in my apron with food all around,
my husband quite tired was looking and found
the cookie tray tempting. He just couldn't wait.
When I wasn't looking he stole from the plate.
The children were dressed in jolly new clothes.
Their cheeks were all rosy with red on their nose.
Their eyes were like saucers as they saw under the tree
some bright colored packages from Pop-Pop and me.

But first we must eat and fill up our belly.

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poem by Edwina Reizer
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