Think what a better world it would be if we all, the whole world, had cookies and milk about three o'clock every afternoon and then lay down on our blankets for a nap.
quote by Barbara Jordan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Cookie Crumbs
Cookies will save the world.
Cookies have saved the world.
Thirteen of them landed on the moon
They called them the Apollo 13 of cookies
Chocolate Chip built the pyramids
And Macadamia painted the Sistine Chapel
The Nile runs with milk
Because the sun is an Oreo
And the sun is the Nile's favorite
Favorite cookie
Superman defeated no one
Super Sugar Cookie did all that
Double Chocolate Jackie Robinson
Was the first Afro-American to play baseball in the majors
And Oatmeal Raison was the first president
Who couldn't tell a lie
Girl Scouts sell cookies
In an effort to save the world
Because that's what cookies do best
I wish I could write more
But my cookie is gone
I ate it while I wrote this poem
My inspiration is now in my tummy
I think we all could save the world
If the world ran on cookies
But now there's nothing left of mine but
Crumbs
poem by Tsunami HiroshiSu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Milk And Cookies
R.E.M.---Milk Cookies
[...Heavy applause.]
ANDY: Since you've all been such good boys and girls,
I would like to take everybody in this entire
audience out for milk and cookies! There are
busses outside! Everybody, follow me!!!
...
Don't worry, folks! There's enough milk and
cookies for everyone!
[Instrumental]
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cortège
Four o'clock this afternoon,
Fifteen hundred miles away:
So it goes, the crazy tune,
So it pounds and hums all day
Four o'clock this afternoon,
Earth will hide them far away:
Best they go to go so soon,
Best for them the grave to-day.
Had she gone but half so soon,
Half the world had passed away.
Four o'clock this afternoon,
Best for them they go to-day.
Four o'clock this afternoon,
Love will hide them deep, they say;
Love that made the grave so soon,
Fifteen hundred miles away:
Four o'clock this afternoon,
Ah, but they go slow to-day:
Slow to suit my crazy tune,
Past the need of all we say.
Best it came to come so soon,
Best for them they go to-day:
Four o'clock this afternoon,
Fifteen hundred miles away.
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Oh Those Cookies Made
You hooked me with your looks,
And also cooking, 'bay-bee'.
Your speciality is baking sugar cookies, 'bay-bee'.
And a tasting of your cookies,
Is my favorite crave...
I rush to get to savor.
Because the flavor makes them great...
I've lost my patience to wait.
Oh your cookies made,
Are the best I've ever savored.
Yes your cookies made.
Is a taste that can't get better.
Oh...
Those cookies made,
Are fun to munch in any weather.
Yes,
Those cookies made.
Your cookies made.
Oh...
Oh your cookies made,
Are the best I've ever savored.
Yes your cookies made.
Is a taste that can't get better.
Oh...
Oh those cookies made,
Are fun to munch in any weather.
Yes,
Those cookies made.
Your cookies made.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Afternoon Tea
Tea time wont be the same without my donna
At night I lie awake and dream of donna
I think about that small cafe
Thats where we used to meet each day
And then we used to sit a while
And drink our afternoon tea
Ill take afternoon tea (afternoon tea)
If you take it with me (afternoon tea)
You take as long as you like
cause I like you, girl
I take sugar with tea (afternoon tea)
You take milk if you please (afternoon tea)
Like you talking to me
Because you ease my mind
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba (afternoon tea)
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba (afternoon tea)
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba (afternoon tea)
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba (afternoon tea)
Tea time still aint the same without my donna
At night I lie awake and dream of donna
I went to our cafe one day
They said that donna walked away
Youd think at least she might have stayed
To drink her afternoon tea
Ill take afternoon tea (afternoon tea)
If you take it with me (afternoon tea)
You take as long as you like
cause I like you, girl
I take afternoon tea (afternoon tea)
Every day of the week (afternoon tea)
Please come along if you like
Because I like you, girl
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba (afternoon tea)
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba (afternoon tea)
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Black Friday
After work
In my bed
I can feel the breeze of the afternoon
Smell of oak in the air
As flames burn in the fireplace
The world is a sad, sad stage
Black Friday morn
Ten o'clock
People waiting outside store doors
Yeah, they are
Wallets out
Aisles filled with smoke from cigarettes
The world is a sad, sad stage
Trying again
To fend for myself
And all that I am
It's come down to this
And, let me say
This world ain't always been this way
You said forget just who you are
And continue to follow
The north star
poem by Pete Rivera
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Misspoke
'Sir...
We clearly have you on videotape
Saying you baked those cookies.
When in actuality,
You did not.
If you are expected to be selected,
As our choice to lead...
We need immediate clarification.'
I must apologize.
On several occasions,
I now admit to saying...
~I baked those cookies.~
You see...
It was many years ago,
When I begged from door to door...
For a taste of homemade chocolate chip cookies,
I was made to feel inadequate.
Until one day...
Out of the blue,
I decided I could and would bake my own cookies!
'But sir...
These are 'not' your cookies.
You might have tasted these cookies.
However...
Your baking them is a false statement.'
Baked, ate...
Tasted!
What difference does it make?
I misspoke.
Can we move on?
There are other more important allegations to lie about.
And besides...
It's just an election.
What's the big deal?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Christmas Cookies
Chorus:
I sure do like those Christmas cookies, sugar
I sure do like those Christmas cookies, babe
The ones that look like Santa Claus
Christmas trees, and bells, and stars
I sure do like those Christmas cookies, babe
Now Christmas cookies are a special treat
The more she bakes the more I eat
And sometimes I can't get myself to stop
Sometimes she'll wait till I'm asleep
And she'll take the ones I didn't eat
And put those little sprinkly things on top
Chorus:
I sure do like those Christmas cookies, sugar
I sure do like those Christmas cookies, babe
The ones that look like Santa Claus
Christmas trees, and bells, and stars
I sure do like those Christmas cookies, babe
Now those sprinkly things just makes things worse
Cause it makes them taste better than they did at first
And they're absolutely impossible to resist
Some disappear to who knows where
But I make sure I get my share
And those kids just stand there waiting for the ones I miss
I sure do like those Christmas cookies, sugar
Sure do like those Christmas cookies, babe
She gets mad that they're all gone
Before she gets the icing put on
Sure do like those Christmas cookies babe
Now there's a benefit to all of this
That you might have overlooked or missed
So now let me tell you the best part of it all
Every time she sticks another batch in the oven
There's 15 minutes for some kissin' and'a huggin'
That's why I eat Christmas cookies all year long!
Ah, Take it away boys
--- Instrumental ---
Chorus:
I sure do like those Christmas cookies, sugar
I sure do like those Christmas cookies, babe
The ones that look like Santa Claus
Christmas trees, and bells, and stars
I sure do like those Christmas cookies, babe
I sure do like those Christmas cookies, babe...
song performed by by George Strait
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I use nothing but the best ingredients. My cookies are always baked fresh. I price cookies so that you cannot make them at home for any less. And I still give cookies away.
quote by Debbi Fields
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Arms Free World
World-world-world
We shall build world
As a place of milk-rice and song
We shall fill in the dry river by milk
Full plate rice at every slum at every day
We shall donate eye for the blind
He will award flower-flower and flower
Who will remove the roar of arms!
The nation remain asleep at day time
Could never achieve the success.
poem by Bongokobida Zakaria
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An Afternoon Poem Is Rare
AN AFTERNOON POEM IS RARE
An Afternoon Poem is rare-
Afternoon is long after the first light-
Afternoon is a time of heaviness and quiet
A time of rest-
Afternoon is after the morning work has been done-
Afternoon is the weight of the day-
Afternoon is the time after the day has lost its freshness-
Still there must be afternoon poems-
There must be a beauty that emerges
In its own way,
Perhaps from where lovers meet
Perhaps from ‘ripeness is all’
Perhaps from the anticipation of evening
Perhaps from winter where it is the warmest time of day.
There must be afternoon poems-
Poems that celebrate all that warmth can bring-
Poems of rest poems of sleep-
Poems of waiting to believe
That in the evening
A new day and a new world
Will make life easier again.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sister Cat
Cat stands at the fridge,
Cries loudly for milk.
But I've filled her bowl.
Wild cat, I say, Sister,
Look, you have milk.
I clink my fingernail
Against the rim. Milk.
With down and liver,
A word I know she hears.
Her sad miaow. She runs
To me. She dips
In her whiskers but
Doesn't drink. As sometimes
I want the light on
When it is on. Or when
I saw the woman walking
toward my house and
I thought there's Frances.
Then looked in the car mirror
To be sure. She stalks
The room. She wants. Milk
Beyond milk. World beyond
This one, she cries.
poem by Frances Mayes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Santa Meets A Soldier!
It would not be surprising
if Santa Claus were real,
That he’d stop inside a soldier’s house,
And be emotionally struck I feel.
For what’s important to a soldier,
Is not worthy to be compared,
To whatever anyone else wants,
For his thinking will lay elsewhere!
While the world sees pretty packages,
All wrapped tightly with ribbons and bows,
The soldier only sees the bandages
On the injured both friends and foes.
If a soldier ever gets to sleep
It’s in a hole he dug himself,
Using entrenching tools he carries
On his green ammunition belt!
So Santa please just let him rest,
No milk and cookies you will find.
His mind dreams of vivid battles,
And how to avoid a claymore mine!
Santa, when he was just a lad
He thought not of what would be today.
And he never gave a second thought
Those guns would be real someday!
Inside the heart of every boy
Is a soldier to be loosed in war.
And he dreams of becoming a hero,
As he is today and so much more!
So Santa all those toys you brought
That put the pacifists in wild uproars,
But they shaped our American Soldiers,
And prepared their hearts for war!
Perhaps that soldier is dreaming
He's standing under the mistletoe,
And kissing the girl he was courting,
Before his unit was shipped out to go!
Please Santa let that soldier sleep,
In the corner down on the floor,
You leave 'HIM' milk and cookies,
And salute as you leave his door!
poem by Robert Edgar Burns
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You Needn't Switch Your Cookies
You needn't switch your cookies.
To offer them to someone else...
With a giving to me of a preferred substitute.
Your cookies are good...
But they have not seduced.
I was the first to taste the flavor to savor them.
Now you believe the chocolate in your cookies,
You can addict somebody else with to lick...
As you sit back to enjoy the doing.
Who came to turn up the heat in your oven?
My sensitive tongue is unlike any other!
And this you will discover...
When you realize this and come to your senses.
Only I supplied the ingredients you used,
To make your cookies taste as good as they do.
You needn't switch your cookies on me,
To offer them to someone else.
The whipping done on these you give,
With the added spice has been overdone.
And not as good to my tongue as the other ones.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Til' Santa's Gone
now i'm only five years old
I've got to do just what i'm told
'cause santa claus is gonna be dropping in on me
Now is there something i might have missed
I had quite a few things on my list
I hope he can fit it all under that christmas tree.
Now i know what he like for a late night snack
For years now it's been bringing him back
Milk and cookies
He'll come and go without a sound again
But how in the world does he get in
Ain't got a chimney
Close my eyes and concentrate
Try to sleep it's getting late
All night long i lie awake
Till santa's gone i just can't wait
Now is there something i might have missed
I had quite a few things on my list
I hope he can get it all under that christmas tree.
Sneak a peek down the hall
I've got to check now i don't recall
The milk and cookies
I think i'm sure i got it all
Stockings hung a-long the wall
Ain't got a chimney
Close my eyes and concentrate
I gotta sleep now it's getting late
All night long i lie awake
Till santa's gone i just can't wait
Just can't wait, just can't wait
Could there be something i might have missed
I had quite a few things on my list
I hope he can fit it all under that christmas tree.
I hope he can fit it all under my christmas tree.
Spoken:
Let's see, i know he can fit...he can fit the airplane under there. he can
Get the bicycle in there
And the...and the gum ball machine and don't know what he's gonna do with
That horse.
song performed by by Clint Black
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Madhatter's tea party
actually it was a mad cat
with the saddest hat in the world
pinned between two ears
a rushing rabbit's habit
of seeing things upside down
brought about too many years
looking for the right mad head to crown
and the five o'clock tea
it was because they ran out of milk
sorry no gate surrogate party it was anyways
many a happy returning of an unbirthday
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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We go together
We go together like bees goes together with honey
Like milk and cookies
We go together like a drummer and his drums
Like a pen finds paper
Lets just face it we go together
Your my bee and im your honey
Your pen and im your paper
Your my rockstar and im your fan
Your my oreos and im your milk
Lets just face it we belong together
poem by Misty moon
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Witnessing the Launch of the Shuttle Atlantis
So much of life in the world is waiting, that
This day was no exception, so we waited
All morning long and into the afternoon.
I spent some of the time remembering
Dante, who did the voyage in the mind
Alone, with no more nor heavier machinery
Than the ghost of a girl giving him guidance;
And wondered if much was lost to gain all this
New world of engine and energy, where dream
Translates into deed. But when the thing went up
It was indeed impressive, as if hell
Itself opened to send its emissary
In search of heaven or 'the unpeopled world'
(thus Dante of doomed Ulysses) 'behind the sun.'
So much of life in the world is memory
That the moment of the happening itself—
So much with noise and smoke and rising clear
To vanish at the limit of our vision
Into the light blue light of afternoon—
Appeared no more, against the void in aim,
Than the flare of a match in sunlight, quickly snuffed.
What yet may come of this? We cannot know.
Great things are promised, as the promised land
Promised to Moses that he would not see
But a distant sight of, though the children would.
The world is made of pictures of the world,
And the pictures change the world into another world
We cannot know, as we knew not this one.
poem by Howard Nemerov
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Holiday Guest
this holiday guest has so many names he uses
and i begin to wonder why.
and yet everyone says
he's one wonderful guy.
he brings presents to most children
and occasionally an adult or two.
and if you ask him why?
he says its something that he must do.
he receives letters from all over the world
thanking him for all he's done.
but! he lets them all know
that he's not the only one.
now! we are adults and parents
and we also were children
a long time ago.
we would jump and dance
and frolic in the snow.
we always had to wait for
this holiday guest to arrive.
but we had to be in bed
before a certain time.
he was a short fat man
with a beard as white as snow
which made his cheeks red
and created such a glow.
he always wore red pajamas
with a red cap to match
and a wide black belt
with a large buckle latch.
he always searched for milk and cookies
to have before he left.
for this was the one thing
that suited his stomach best.
the world has used all his names
but the one he likes the most
is the one that was given to him
by the FATHER, SON AND HOLY GHOST.
now who do you think this
holiday guest can be
for he is always dressed in red.
and you never see him
because you're sent to bed.? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?
poem by Louis Rams
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The Poem of the Afternoon
THE POEM OF THE AFTERNOON
The poem of the afternoon
Long and drawn out
Does not know why it is written
And what its true name is.
It does not ask or answer
Remember or remain
It simply appears
And disappears
As if its writing
Were yet
One more way of
Just being in the world
And passing its light.
The poem of the afternoon
Does not know why it is
Or why it should be
But now that it is here
It looks out at the trees
Through the sun of its pages
And prepares itself to be read and reread
As if someone somewhere
Searches and sees it.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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