The Cookie Cutter Shudders
The cookie cutter shudders.
Quivering in disbelief,
The taste of cookies prepared...
No longer meets the satisfaction,
Of those seeking originality.
An ingredient wished is missed.
That shake and bake appeal,
Has lost its zest and zeal.
People of substance hunger for it.
And the cookie cutter shudders.
Since a recipe used,
Was discovered to be illegitimate.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Toeing To Toe
Did you leave your cookie cutter,
Near that boiling pot?
And it got too hot,
To get your cookies baked to taste.
Did you leave your cookie cutter,
Near that boiling pot?
Now you think you should stop...
Concentrating on your need,
For sweets.
But if you wanna,
You can still whip up...
A cool mint 'coolah-tah'.
Or have some green tea with me.
I'm having crackers and cheese.
And if you wanna,
You can still whip up...
That cool mint 'coolah-tah'.
Add some snuggled hugging....
With your toe to my toes touch too!
Did you leave your cookie cutter,
Near that boiling pot?
And it got too hot,
To get your cookies baked to taste.
Did you leave your cookie cutter,
Near that boiling pot?
Now you think you should stop...
Concentrating on your need,
For sweets.
So if you wanna,
You can still whip up...
A cool mint 'coolah-tah'.
And do some toe to toe with me.
That's if you wanna,
Do some toeing to toe...
With me.
If you wanna,
Do some toeing to toe with me.
That's if you wanna,
Do some toeing to toe...
With me.
If you wanna,
Do some toeing to toe with me.
That's if you wanna,
Do some toeing to toe...
With me!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Of Cookies... and smiling
It’s not the way that
the cookie crumbles that matters….
Nor more important is where
the cookie crumbs scatters
It’s inevitable that
the cookie will shatter
It’s an immutable fact
So what does it matter?
No…Its not the way that
Your cookie crumbles that matters
And only a little more so
Of where the cookie crumbs scatter
What’s most important about cookies…
A fact that is so simple and sublime
Is that the people who get their cookies……often
Seem to Go about smiling… most of the time
poem by David Whalen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Nothing is more effective than sincere, accurate praise, and nothing is more lame than a cookie-cutter compliment.
quote by Bill Walsh
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Words fashioned with somewhat over precise diction are like shapes turned out by a cookie cutter.
quote by Peter De Vries
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grim and Stuck On Their Knees
Grim and stuck on their knees.
Too many people with weak souls.
They are the ones claiming to know...
How others should go about their days,
And pray.
Grim...
And stuck on their knees.
Seekers wishing to be equal.
But complain about their troubles,
And evils they face all day.
Seen running to be hidden in shadows.
Running from realities they choose not to believe.
Desperate are the lives of these people.
Sharing as seen their half filled cups...
With others they seek,
Like them who have given up!
Grim...
And stuck on their knees.
They see themselves with bad luck.
Grim and stuck on their knees.
Afraid to get out of ruts.
They want their boats re-ruddered.
Grim and stuck on their knees.
They want them sugar buttered.
Grim and stuck on their knees...
They seek a life that's other than the one 'not' cookie cutter.
Grim...
And stuck on their knees.
They see themselves with bad luck.
Grim and stuck on their knees.
Afraid to get out of ruts.
They want their boats re-ruddered.
Grim and stuck on their knees.
They want them sugar buttered.
Grim and stuck on their knees...
They seek a life that's other than the one 'not' cookie cutter.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A lot of the television industry is so cookie-cutter. In general, there are so many shows that are easy and bland to watch. You can tune in at any time and know exactly where you are in the story arc because it's pretty much the same every week.
quote by Adam Baldwin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Afternoon Musings
who first took the cookie from the cookie jar?
who me?
yes you
not i
then who?
(for the grown-up
insomniacs
try the song
and change cookie
to love
it works)
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When You Come Back
before you go
you put three things
just three things
on the table of your room
a red rose, a yellow mongol pencil,
a nail cutter,
a nail cutter is nothing
but when you come back you find it missing.
you think about the nail cutter
that ordinary nail cutter that you can buy
at anytime
in any store,
it is not there anymore, the red rose wilted
and the yellow mongol pencil is untouched.
you still think about the nail cutter
where could it be? who took it?
your world revolves now around
the missing nail cutter.
it is like loving an ordinary person,
who is now
missing.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Weird
Isnt it weird. isnt it strange.
Even though were just two strangers on this runaway train
Were both trying to find a place in the sun
Weve lived in the shadows, but doesnt everyone
Isnt it strange how we all feel a little bit weird sometimes
Isnt it hard. standing in the rain.
Youre on the verge of going crazy and your hearts in pain
No one can hear though youre screaming so loud
You feel all alone in a faceless crowd
Isnt it strange how we all get a little bit weird sometimes.
Sitting on the side. waiting for a sign. hoping that my luck will change.
Reaching for a hand that can understand, someone who feels the same.
When you live in a cookie cutter world being different is a sin.
So you dont stand out. and you dont fit in. weird.
Sitting on the side. waiting for a sign. hoping that my luck will change.
Reaching for a hand that can understand, someone who feels the same.
When you live in a cookie cutter world if youre different you cant win.
So you dont stand out and you dont fit in. weird.
Isnt it strange how we all feel a little bit weird
Strange, how we all get a little bit.
Strange, cause were all just a little bit weird sometimes.
song performed by by Hanson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lookie, Lookie
Lookie, lookie, here comes Cookie
walking down the street.
The boys are all aflutter
when their eyes do meet.
She can strut and she can sway,
making them all stare.
But Cookie just keeps walking
as if they were not there.
Lookie, lookie, there goes Cookie
passing them all by.
She's not aware of how she looks
and here's the reason why.
Cookie's life is hard at home.
She doesn't trust a guy.
Her father left when she was five
and she never found out why?
Her mother told her 'Don't trust boys.
They'll break your heart in two.'
But maybe there'll be one someday
that stares but will be true.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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The Peanut-Butter Cookie 2
-How old was he?
-About my age.
-Tell me about him, again.
-There's not much to tell. I was standing on the curb. I didn't see him coming. Suddenly, there he was. I found myself looking into his eyes. They were gray, I think.
-And?
-He stopped. He opened the paper bag he was carrying and held it out. Obviously, I was supposed to help myself. The bag was jaded and looked like it had seen alot of action, that particular morning.
-The cookies!
-Yep, the cookies. It wouldn't be nice to refuse. In those days, people still worried about such things.
-Courtesy is the most efficient form of coercion. Everybody wins.
-Be that as it may, I reached into the bag and took out-surprise-a peanut-butter cookie. I knew it was a peanut-butter cookie. It was sandy blond and had hatch marks from a fork on top.
-So you ate the cookie?
-Unh-unh.His hands were filthy, the little urchin, my doppelganger. But I waved the cookie around as if I was delighted to have it, and wanted, at that moment, nothing more. It seemed the nice thing.
-So what happened to him?
-How should I know? Suddenly he was gone.
Awful! Is consciousness just circular memory? Is reality?
-Gone. He moved on. Rejoined the parade.
-But he wormed his way into your menagerie of long-term memories-
-I guess.
-It's sad, you know.
-Why do you say that?
-Because he was so young and so poor. He's probably not even alive. He probably died of starvation. A protein deficiency.
-That's morbid. He may be quite alive and kicking. He may have won the lottery for twenty million and have eighteen grandkids.
-You're right, I guess. I just assumed...
-Don't. It tells more about the person making the assumption than about reality. People always assume tragedy.
-You're right, of course. How did it end?
-I heard my mother calling.Looking over my shoulder I saw the statue of Billy Penn-way up, the sun glinting off his hat. Then, there was my mother. In the flesh. Big as life. She grabbed my wrist and hustled me on. She was mad. Because I got away, I guess.
-And that was that?
-And that was that.
poem by Morgan Michaels
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Salvation Lost
Wild and tempestuous fires arise in me,
calling forth the cold regrets which plague every man
The clouds stir and thunder splits the world asunder...
a flash of melted memories
carved into the cookie-cutter shapes
of christmas trees, snowmen, and stars
It is a pretense to the story enacted in my mind
A pre-beginning, looking as if it will mould the rest-
Praises are sung to the mountains and the stars,
no one deeming to notice the whistling whisper,
breathing slow and evenly on the back of their necks
until the hair stands up
The whisper floats above and onward unanswered.
They do not know that they have missed opportunity's quiet knocking.
poem by Poet Dragon
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Comforting Place
You rush downstairs to the kitchen with excitement as the heart felt aroma of chocolate chip cookies seeps through every room in your house.
So enamored and filled with relief that your anguishing wait is over, you cannot help but notice each cookie's golden brown, wrinkled crust glistening as steam whisps seductively around your nose drawing you near, as if in a trance. While rich chocolate oasises seep delicately into each cookie.
And when they are finally cool enough to eat, you push and grab for the biggest chip, filled cookie on the rack and bite eagerly into the crust, but savoring every flavor.
The texture, so soft and moist, melts like ice in a bowl luke warm water. But, as the last piece slips down your throat, the after taste is so overwhelming that you yearn for another, and another and another until you are satisfied.
But then you comforting place is shattered, like a mirror to a hardwood floor, as your mother walks in to an empty cooling rack and a nervous child afraid of what her mother will say, with chocolate smears resting in the corners of ther mouth and the tips of her fingers.
By: Cece
Age: 14
(This was orginally an imagery activity for my honors english class. Our assignment was to write about our individual comforting place and... mine was chocolate chip cookies! So, I hope you liked it. But I don't know about you but, I'm hungry!)
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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Recipe For Chocolate Chip Cookies
Chocolate Chip Cookies
¾ cup sugar
¾ cup packed brown sugar
1 cup butter, softened
2 large eggs, beaten
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 ¼ cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
¾ teaspoon salt
2 cups semisweet chocolate chips
Preheat oven to 375 degrees
Get a large bowl for
¾ cup of sugar
¾ cup of packed brown sugar
1 cup of softened butter
1 teaspoon of vanilla extract
And 2 large beaten eggs
Mix by hand in large
Get a small bowl for
2 ¼ cups all- purpose flour
1 teaspoon of baking soda
And ¾ teaspoon of salt
Stir all ingredients together in large bowl
Drop dough in rounded tablespoonfuls
On to ungreased cookie sheet
Bake the cookies 8 to 10 minutes
Or until light brown
Remove from cookie sheet
And then enjoy
poem by Kelsey Isham
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Chocolate Chip Cookie
Like a chocolate chip cookie
I can't keep my hands off you
The moment I see or smell you
I long to have you in my hands and mouth...
You're soft to the touch, and taste so sweet
easy to digest, you make me weak
I try to resist you, but know that I can't
I long to have you..My Chocolate Chip Cookie
In the palm of my hand
poem by Velma Veleau Ridley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Give Us The Cookies
It had been perfectly okay,
For them to do and say...
Exactly as they pleased.
Not just for years.
But for centuries.
A respect was given.
And this had increased.
But a dishonesty became their beast.
This began to feed a greed.
This greed did not cease.
An addiction of it was from them released.
The beast began to roar.
Making demands within its den.
Not only did it begin to offend.
Unwisely it began to destroy...
The goodwill felt,
Amongst its own fellowmen.
Ending all respect that had been given.
'That's a nice story, grandpa.
Can we get another cookie? '
Even the sweet taste of the cookies...
Were slowly suspended,
From the children's memories.
'Tch!
Will you stop teasing, grandpa.
Give us the cookies.'
Even the sweet taste of the cookies...
Were slowly suspended,
From the children's memories.
'Look, old man.
We ain't playing.
Give up the goods! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Silenced Has Been This Nut Cutter
Silenced has been this nut cutter.
The one whose persona,
Had been one of dignity.
He with lips,
Flapping and microphoned.
Broadcastiing sentiments...
One of his stature,
No one condoned.
Silenced has been this nut cutter.
Finding such disgust,
He should not have uttered.
And today,
Whatever influence he may have had..
Has faded away.
Along with his perceptions...
On top of water he walked,
And not through it he waded.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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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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