Today is National Chocolate Cake Day and National Inane Answering Message Day or NIAD (Nigh-Add) for short.
So, go have a piece or two or chocolate cake and record this on your voicemail:
“I had cake. It was great.
Leave a message and I may relate.
Vanilla’s fine. Strawberry, too.
But chocolate’s the only one that’ll do.
Chocolate cake and chocolate frosting.
Chocolate from beginning to topping.
Leave a message after the beep,
Unless you’re a salesman or some beep-beep creep.”
Filed under 2024, photo, poem, poet, poetry, poetry by author, Poetry by David E. Booker
Today is National Chocolate Cake Day and National Inane Answering Message Day or NIAD (Nigh-Add) for short.
So, go have a piece or two or chocolate cake and record this on your voicemail:
“I had cake. It was great.
Leave a message and I may relate.
Vanilla’s fine. Strawberry, too.
But chocolate’s the only one that’ll do.
Chocolate cake and chocolate frosting.
Chocolate from beginning to topping.
Leave a message after the beep,
unless you’re a salesman or some beep-beep creep.”
Filed under 2023, humor, Monday, photo, poem, poetry, poetry by author, Poetry by David E. Booker
Chocolate
At the finish line /
There should be brownies. Always. /
Angels aren’t enough.
.
.
#haiku #poem #poetry #brownies #chocolate #angels #finishline #photooftheday #poemoftheday #davidebooker #oldnorthknoxville #may #saturday #2021 #051521
Filed under 2021, haiku, Old North Knoxville, photo, photo by David E. Booker, poem, poetry, Poetry by David E. Booker
Cookie Fails
I have committed all those sins, /
Once and again /
When baking the day away. /
In the kitchen I run /
Mixer, thumb, and hum /
As I try to get the dough my way. /
But, alas, by turns /
Overmixed to burned, /
My baking fails like clay /
Lost on a potter’s wheel /
Self-creation piecemeal /
That has gone astray. /
But fool that I be /
Mount Success for me /
So into the recipe I climb. /
Mix and shape /
Measure and bake /
Then wait again for the timer’s chime.
Then out come my cookies. /
Oh, take a look! See /
How they look divine. /
I sit on my stool, /
Fidgeting until cool, /
Then I dine on this feast of mine.
#032422
Filed under 2022, poetry, Poetry by David E. Booker, Silly Saturday
Chocolate
At the finish line /
There should be brownies. Always. /
Angels aren’t enough.
.
.
#haiku #poem #poetry #brownies #chocolate #angels #finishline #photooftheday #poemoftheday #davidebooker #oldnorthknoxville #may #saturday #2021
Filed under 2021, haiku, photo, photo by David E. Booker, Poetry by David E. Booker, Silly Saturday
She was pumped to see the candy.
She was pumped to see the candy. And she was pumped to see the pumps. She had been looking all over town for this type of candy: handmade, locally produced, just the thing to impress him with. After all, he had always given her handmade gifts. Then she saw the shoes, the pumps made from chocolate and candy. She’d always heard that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach, and she had a secret fetish of wanting a man to at least once in her life nibble and suck her toes. This was just the item. It combined both things, and he wouldn’t even have to know about her fetish until the moment he nibbled his way up to her ruby red painted toes.
Oh, could this be real? Could this actually be happening?
She wanted to click her heels like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz and say, “This place is better than home. This place is better than home.”
Then the witch behind the counter yelled over at her: “I ain’t here for my health. You gonna buy or you gonna slobber?”
She thought about it for a moment and wondered what she would do if he wouldn’t nibble away her chocolate shoe? What if he didn’t even like chocolate? What would she do then?
“Well?” the witch was not pleased to be kept waiting.
“I’ll take them all,” she said, “And could you gift wrap them?”
The look on the witch’s face was beyond sour. “You know, you can’t really wear these. And you can’t bring ’em back.”
“For what I have in mind, that won’t be an issue.”
The witch shrugged and packed up all five shoes.
She young woman walked home in the cold and blowing snow. Her man would be arriving soon, so she hurried. When she got home, she left a note where here man would find it, then went straight to bed and waited … and waited … and waited….
When morning came, she awoke with a jolt. It took a moment or two before she realized what had happened. All the chocolate shoes were gone, except one, which was partially eaten, the toe area missing. She found a wrapped present in the bed beside her and a note which read:
“My dear Virginia, how you have grown. I almost didn’t recognize you. I hope you like the present. I made it especially for you. Thank you for the chocolate snacks. I tried each one on your pretty little feet and nibbled my way up to your toes. Maybe next year, we can try these. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. –S.”
Virginia ripped open the present. She stared at the gift for a few minutes before she realized what it was. She turned as red as S’s suit to think he thought of her this way.
It was almost amazing what could happen when you still believed in the jolly ol’ elf.
Filed under Photo by author, Photo Finish Friday
I woke to turkeys on full parade,
A dark flock of birds on a chocolate promenade.
I was sure it was a trip to a tryptophanic place
Where there existed another wild turkey race.
One was cross-eyed, one was four eyed.
One, I saw, gave me the evil eye.
Yet these fowl could not be what they seemed,
Full of butter and chocolate and maybe even cream.
With candy corn beaks and truffle cheeks,
one stepped forward and started to speak.
“We come to you from a way off land,
We have a proposal we hope you find grand.
Chocolate turkeys on parade
“If I pardon one, what will happen to the rest?”
The cupcake turkeys did their best
Not to laugh at my stupidity
But an answer to my question, they wouldn’t give me.
So I picked up one and ate him straight away.
Then I ate another before he could say:
“We come in peace, don’t you know.
We came to you, because we’ve no place to go.”
I gobbled and gobbled until I had my fill.
Then the three I hadn’t eaten stood very still.
With chocolate frosting smeared across my face,
I’m sure they wished they’d skipped the human race.
“Which one of you do I pardoned?” I said with a leer.
They stared at me as if I hadn’t been clear.
“I will eat two and save one.
“That is how a Turkey’s pardon’s done.”
The three immediately tried to scramble.
But cupcake turkeys can barely amble.
And as far as they got was the edge of my bed,
Where they had everything to fear. One had lost its head.
But of these turkeys, I could eat no more.
Because my stomach was incredibly sore.
It was rumbling, grumbling, beginning to roar
And felt as if the turkeys inside were trying to soar.
So I give you this warning, should they come your way.
One headless turkey and two friends dismayed.
Enjoy a little less of these chocolate treats.
Unless you want to feel like you’ve been eat.
Filed under blathering idiot, choclate, humor, poem, poetry, story poem, turkey
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