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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Related quotes
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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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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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
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Peanut Butter: My Old Friend.....[Personal; Food]
I had a peanut butter sandwich today
which made me think of all the way....
sssss my life has been touched by that
stick-to-your-mouth sludge of peanut fat.
Not 'touched' in the sense that's it's shaped my life,
but when I open a jar and take up a knife
or a spoon, I can picture times of enjoy-
ment as an adult consumer and as a boy.
Of course I'm lucky in that I generally enjoy food
even if I'm in a rare bad mood.
I assume pb was a common snack in my childhood,
though I'm not sure it was. My memory is not that good.
But I do remember my Mom made cookies from it;
I helped her. And the first cooled cookie I'm sure I bit,
paying some attention to the crisscross pattern on top,
or the sometimes-present big chocolate drop.
And when I visited my childhood neighbor, Helen, it's a good bet
that sometimes a peanut butter sandwich I would get.
[But I really better remember that Helen's kitchen at times had cake.
I assume her mother, Betty, the cake did make.]
At Halloween there were pb 'cups' made by Reeses.
Chocolate and pb. It's good they were small pieces!
As an adult pb has been with me off and on.
Probably when I shared a home with my brother Don,
and when Shannon, my daughter, was young (that makes me smile) ,
and when I lived in a storage garage for a short while.
I used to put it on plain warm toast, but
perhaps mixed-with-vanilla-ice cream I enjoyed it most.
I can't tell you how it would taste on sliced tomato,
but I can say it wasn't good when tried on mashed potato! !
And as I type today there's an unsealed jar nearby.
My wife cautions me against too much, but I'm not sure why.
From time to time it's a treat on cereal or bread,
but usually it's just a spoon of it I stick into my head.
poem by Bri Edwards
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You Put Your Chocolate In My Peanut Butter!
Hey you, you have too much hair and we dont like what you wear
And you have really bad breath so were gonna beat you to death
Because there is plenty of us and only one of you weve got plenty
Of reasons and heres just a few you put your chocolate in my
Peanut butter I was walking and you were in my way you looked
At me without my permission you never even apologized you put
Your chocolate in my peanut butter thats good enough reason for
Me to bash you put your chocolate in my peanut butter thats good
Enough reason for me to smash no justice / theres just us / so trust us
You put your chocolate in my peanut butter you put your chocolate in
My peanut butter you put your chocolate in my peanut butter you put
Your chocolate in my peanut butter
song performed by by NOFX
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
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Peanut-Butter Sandwich
I'll sing you a poem of a silly young king
Who played with the world at the end of a string,
But he only loved one single thing—
And that was just a peanut-butter sandwich.
His scepter and his royal gowns,
His regal throne and golden crowns
Were brown and sticky from the mounds
And drippings from each peanut-butter sandwich.
His subjects all were silly fools
For he had passed a royal rule
That all that they could learn in school
Was how to make a peanut-butter sandwich.
He would not eat his sovereign steak,
He scorned his soup and kingly cake,
And told his courtly cook to bake
An extra-sticky peanut-butter sandwich.
And then one day he took a bit
And started chewing with delight,
But found his mouth was stuck quite tight
From that last bite of peanut-butter sandwich.
His brother pulled, his sister pried,
The wizard pushed, his mother cried,
'My boy's committed suicide
From eating his last peanut-butter sandwich!'
The dentist came, and the royal doc.
The royal plumber banged and knocked,
But still those jaws stayed tightly locked.
Oh darn that sticky peanut-butter sandwich!
The carpenter, he tried with pliers,
The telephone man tried with wires,
The firemen, they tried with fire,
But couldn't melt that peanut-butter sandwich.
With ropes and pulleys, drills and coil,
With steam and lubricating oil—
For twenty years of tears and toil—
They fought that awful peanut-butter sandwich.
Then all his royal subjects came.
They hooked his jaws with grapplin' chains
And pulled both ways with might and main
Against that stubborn peanut-butter sandwich.
Each man and woman, girl and boy
Put down their ploughs and pots and toys
And pulled until kerack! Oh, joy—
They broke right through that peanut-butter sandwich
A puff of dust, a screech, a squeak—
The king's jaw opened with a creak.
And then in voice so faint and weak—
The first words that they heard him speak
Were, 'How about a peanut-butter sandwich?'
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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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
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What I love is a peanut butter and pickle sandwich. I'll just have peanut butter and bananas, then peanut butter and pickles. Peanut butter and chocolate I don't recommend.
quote by Dianne Wiest
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Peanut Butter Lovers
Chocolate,
And marmalade...
Is a taste craved by some.
Who may just rave...
About the flavor that comes.
But...
Those who prefer their peanut butter,
Alone...
Spoon it from a jar protected,
As if its diamonds they own.
Peanut butter,
When it's discovered.
Is loved like nothing other,
To soothe one's secret druthers.
It is licked quick from the lips.
And it isn't there long.
Those addicted to their peanut butter,
Have stacks in their homes.
Oh yes, it's peanut butter...
When it's discovered.
Is loved like nothing other,
To soothe one's secret druthers.
Chocolate,
And marmalade...
Is a taste craved by some.
Who may just rave...
About the flavor that comes.
But it's peanut butter,
Loved like nothing other.
It can make one stutter,
When it is discovered.
Oh yes, it's peanut butter...
When it is discovered.
Is loved like nothing other,
To soothe one's secret druthers.
Those peanut butter lovers,
Are different from the others.
Those peanut butter lovers,
Are different from the others.
Those peanut butter lovers.
Keep your chocolate and that marmalade.
Peanut butter lovers,
Are different from the others.
Those peanut butter lovers,
Are different from the others.
Those peanut butter lovers.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I eat peanut butter
I eat peanut butter from a jar
Sitting quitly naked at the bar
Wired in frankincense and cheap olive oil
You can never spot where Ive hidden my old boil
I eat peanut butter with a spoon
Hanging on a telophone from the moon
Looking everywhere for the third rock in my drawer
cause I'm followed by the elaphant whose getting rather cold
I taste peanut butter with marmalade
Its sutured with nectrines with astringent taste
Surrounded by a gang of malefactent tea cups
Coming from Buenos Aries on the back of maple syrup
want to ride the posse of little bitty irishmen?
I lick peanut butter from outerspace
I was born southside so it goes to my waist
I lick peanut butter from a dress
Its my wifes who i never met
I take peanut butter to a zoo
Watching the contortions of the Gaia philharmonic
Exasperating riddles which their tvs cant decode
While swimming in the puzzles of a Lincoln camry ford
Bet you wished their was some Peanut butter
to explain this ghastly poem?
poem by Kevin Patrick
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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
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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
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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
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The Peanut-Butter Cookie
-So what happened to him?
-How should I know. It was long ago.
-A memory. Awful-is consciousness just circular memory? Is reality?
-Memory and will. And sex, of course, implementing both. Erase memory, you still have will. Reality is something different, though. I can see him like yesterday.
Are you sure you didn't dream him up? That what you told me wasn't a figment?
Yes, I'm sure. It's one of those things you don't forget. I was five, maybe six. It was frosty cold. Scalding cold, you might say-bearable if you had a stout coat. My breath came out in smoky plumes. It was New Year's day. Everyone was excited and hung from the night before. The sky was blue and cloudless. I was content.
-Hmmmm. Where was this?
Broad Street. Philadelphia.
-We were watching the parade. My first. There was something magical about it-those never-ending platoons of marchers in tights, all strumming banjos. The sun shone on their sequins and made them gleam....it was dizzying!
-Wow!
-...and the fake bird tails-peacock tails made out of fake feathers. Everyone had one. Like the tails of lyre-birds, they were...
-Of what kind of bird?
-and the banjos, strumming, strumming. And the curiously hollow horns.The sound came in waves, fading into the north and coming on again from the south.
-Jeez. Where were your mom and pop?
-I don't know. Suddenly they were gone. Maybe I repressed them.
-Gone when he came along?
-Exactly. I was standing on a curb in a crush of people...
-What was he wearing?
-An urchin suit out of Dickens. Out of Central Casting. He could have been Peter Pan's understudy. I have the impression he was barefoot, but that's hardly likely.
-How old....
poem by Morgan Michaels
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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!)
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
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Mother may I
Mother may I
throw food around
because I am contrary as an infant?
Mother may I
play in the mud
because I like when you have to bathe me?
Mother may I
eat all the cookies
just because they taste so yummy?
Mother may I
draw on the walls
because I like your attention?
Mother may I
not do my homework
because I want to grow up faster?
Mother may I
stay out all night
because I feel like I'm suffocating at home?
Mother may I
have sex in your bed
because you arn't home to know about it?
Mother may I
borrow the car
so my friends and I can get high on the bridge?
Mother may I
take the TV
because I'll need something to do at college?
Mother may I
borrow some money
because I spent all of mine on the raised cigarette tax?
Mother may I
take you for granted
because I don't know any better?
Mother may I
have an abortion
because I am scared to become you so quickly?
Mother may I
cry in your arms
because I finally know what it feels like to be used?
Mother may I
come home to you
because I still love you more than anything?
Mother may I
have another cookie
because now I know to ask?
Mother may I
take your advice
because I want to know if he's right for me?
Mother may I
fall in love
because I want to be whole?
Mother may I
have your grandchild
because I want to be just like you?
Mother may I
give her your name
because she's just as beautiful to me as you are?
Mother may I
love you forever
because you are my loving mother and never gave up on me?
poem by Erica Francis
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Peanut, Butter, and Jelly
Peanut
The sky is lit
with someone walking in the mist
Butter
Romantic honey moon trips
Peanut and Butter
Together Forever
Hate can't separate them
They stay together
Side by side
Peanut Butter forever
Thick and thin
With Jelly by their side
The three friends stay together
Forever
Peanut, Butter, and Jelly
Stay together
Forever
poem by Jason Colon
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If you don't mind smelling like peanut butter for two or three days, peanut butter is darn good shaving cream.
quote by Barry Goldwater
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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