Tableau at Twilight
I sit in the dusk. I am all alone.
Enter a child and an ice-cream cone.
A parent is easily beguiled
By sight of this coniferous child.
The friendly embers warmer gleam,
The cone begins to drip ice cream.
Cones are composed of many a vitamin.
My lap is not the place to bitamin.
Although my raiment is not chinchilla,
I flinch to see it become vanilla.
Coniferous child, when vanilla melts
I’d rather it melted somewhere else.
Exit child with remains of cone.
I sit in the dusk. I am all alone,
Muttering spells like an angry Druid,
Alone, in the dusk, with the cleaning fluid.
poem by Ogden Nash
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Related quotes
Self-centered....
the blond
has a hand that carries a cone of
vanilla ice cream
it is summer
he looks at the sea
and lets his ice cream melt
not licking it yet
the sea is so blue
a woman looks at his
well chiseled body his
butterfly back
his abs and
strong arms
the ice cream melts
the man looks at the sand
and estimates the size
of his shadow
the sand is so white
the woman with her long black hair
in a two piece
the main attraction of this poem
backs out
and buys her own cone of
vanilla ice cream
and she licks it until the ice cream
is consumed
the man goes to the sea and makes
his needed dive
indeed the sea is so blue
and it is a sad summer....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Chocolate And Vanilla Swirl
When I was a child
I spoke, thought, reasoned as a child
My favorite treat on a hot summer day
Was a chocolate vanilla ice cream swirl
I'd have it for every meal if I had my way.
When I became a women
Grown and mature
I put aside all childish things
Everything but my love
For chocolate vanilla swirl
My only indulgence to my inner girl.
Not so very long ago
That swirl of chocolate and vanilla
Melded in a way I'd never dreamed of
Ice melted by fire
Our trust and desire
Sweetly blended
Bodies so entwined
It couldn't be said
Where we began or ended.
Looking back at our time together
The years have flown by in a whirl
As we allowed our indulgence
To lose ourselves
In the sweetness of our
Chocolate and vanilla swirl.
I hope there is forever
In this special connection
Of this chocolate boy and vanilla girl.
poem by Esther Brush
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Ice Cream
to be with each other
closer than before
we take turns licking
the ice cream
on the cone, then,
after the taste of vanilla
we savor what sweetness
is still left
in each other's tongue.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The 'Poem A Day' Project ~ Day 193
I’m a traffic cone up a tree
Someone on a drunken spree
With all of their might
Gave me new height
Here for all to see
I’m a traffic cone up a tree
Not really where I should be
I’m usually found
Much nearer the ground
Lined up uniformly
I’m a traffic cone up a tree
It makes me feel rather free
To have reached a place
No other cone’ll grace
Fills me with real glee
I’m a traffic cone up a tree
Plastic and bright orangey
I might catch the eye
Of some strange passer by
Who’ll write a poem about me
poem by Flying Lemming
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Little Abigail and the Beautiful Pony
There was a girl named Abigail
Who was taking a drive
Through the country
With her parents
When she spied a beautiful sad-eyed
Grey and white pony.
And next to it was a sign
That said,
FOR SALE—CHEAP.
“Oh,” said Abigail,
“May I have that pony?
May I please?”
And her parents said,
“No you may not.”
And Abigail said,
“But I MUST have that pony.”
And her parents said,
“Well, you can have a nice butter pecan
Ice cream cone when we get home.”
And Abigail said,
“I don’t want a butter pecan
Ice cream cone,
I WANT THAT PONY—
I MUST HAVE THAT PONY.”
And her parents said,
“Be quiet and stop nagging—
You’re not getting that pony.”
And Abigail began to cry and said,
“If I don’t get that pony I’ll die.”
And her parents said, “You won’t die.
No child ever died yet from not getting a pony.”
And Abigail felt so bad
That when she got home she went to bed,
And she couldn’t eat,
And she couldn’t sleep,
And her heart was broken,
And she DID die—
All because of a pony
That her parents wouldn’t buy.
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Monkey Butt with Choca Mocha
It's not my favorite...
But it's hot!
This flavor tasted that I've got!
It satisfies a need that's fed...
A craving that has stopped inside my head!
A temporary drop,
In my pocket.
I will admit a feeding has been met!
A soothing to a drooling has been cooled.
Addicted to a moment of regret that's soothed!
Put a double on the cone for me!
With a cherry on the top...
Sitting on whipped cream with meaning!
Put a double on the cone for me!
Since you're out of Maple Nut...
I'll take take two scoops of 'Monkey Butt'.
And come back and get that 'Choca Mocha'!
Put a double on the cone for me!
With a cherry on the top...
Sitting on whipped cream with meaning!
Put a double on the cone for me!
Since you're out of Maple Nut...
Give me 'Monkey Butt' with 'Choca Mocha'!
Wait!
Leave the 'Monkey Butt'
And add two 'Choca Mochas'!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Old Child
Child. Old child,
No longer wild;
No longer speaking,
No longer beguiled;
I have become
A quiet old child.
Child. Old child,
No longer cold;
Never an old man,
Always too old;
I have become
An old child tenfold.
Child. Old child,
Forever a child;
Always rethinking,
Always exiled.
I should become
A happy old child.
Child. Old child.
Always soft-spoken;
No longer breaking,
Still being broken;
I have become
An old child, unspoken.
Child. Old child,
No longer bold;
By thinking, rethinking
Of stories untold,
All through my childhood,
I've become... old.
poem by Mihai Cosmescu
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I Hope I Get It
(marvin hamlisch/ed kleban)
Everyday for a week we would try to be a table
Be a sportscar, ice cream cone
The teacher, he would say
Very good except diana, try, diana, all alone
So I dug right down to the bottom of my soul
To see how an ice cream felt
I dug right down to the bottom of my soul
And I tried to melt
So the kids in the class said:
Ooh, I feel chocolate, hey, I feel vanilla
He said ok ross, what do you feel?
And I said nothing, I aint feeling nothing
Deep down nothing is all my teacher had
Everybody felt something
But I felt nothing
Except the feeling that this bull-shit was absurd
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Where Is The Child?
love is blind,
life is wild,
death is wide,
where is the child?
hatred everywhere,
badness fills the air,
life is so unfair,
where is the child?
no one is funny,
bees make no honey,
everyone is running after money,
where is the child?
hearing no good voice,
there is much noise,
by a freaky gang of boys,
where is the child?
no one is having a good dream,
everyone wants to scream,
there is no more white cream,
where is the child?
purity is gone,
children have no fun,
badness is now in everyone,
where is the child?
there is no more respectable art,
no real love in any heart,
sadness in every part,
where is the child?
where is the child?
where is the child?
poem by Sarah Abu Zeid
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A child's Suffering
The intense flame of withering blooms,
In deep essence of those in tombs.
A child like figure in darkness's shadow,
As his eyes as yellow as cat's eyes glow.
Death takes him home into the deep,
to a never ending painful sleep.
The child's voice heard through my dreams,
His voice so painful as he screams.
Why an innocent child has to suffer,
no child deserves this life so hard and so much rougher.
But the father's disgrace chose the child's path,
Taking the child into a blood bath,
the child cries as the burning goes on,
Forever from dusk to dawn.
poem by Krystle Kyriakou
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Separate Beginnings
Everything separates-
Child from parent,
Husband from wife,
Ore from a mine,
Cream from milk,
Butter from cream,
Breath from my lungs.
A churning, changing, complex
Spin, apart, then back again.
The child has children,
Two hearts pair up in a damp Paris street
The earth pushes up the ground –
Too slow for us to see.
Another cow is lead into a stall,
And I inhale the precious essences
Of you, again.
poem by Charlotte Ballard
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All Of Their Laughter
A child’s smile is a gift from God
A child’s touch like that of Angel’s wings
A wriggle of their nose like the spread of fairy dust
A child’s dimples softer than cream puffs
A look from their eyes like catching a shooting star
A child’s hug is like falling through a cloud
When each child falls asleep in their home
All of their laughter dances back to his throne
poem by Brian Kilpatrick
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Be a child-parent-adult
To the child, it is a day.
To the parent, it is a night.
To the adult both are inclusive.
The child lives in fantasy.
The parent lives in fallacy.
It is the adult that lives,
Where he is put, in ecstasy.
The child admires things.
The parent criticizes them.
The adult realizes them.
The child appreciates.
The parent deprecates.
The adult rationalizes.
The poet is the child in man.
The priest is the parent in man.
The logician is the adult in man.
Live a child to be youthful.
Live a parent to be awesome.
Live an adult to be credible.
27.01.2000, Kottayam
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Mama's cry
child, please dont cry when we fail 2 try.
Child, smile with me even when a mile we walk through troubles.
Child, brace me with your love and forever you live by his grace.
Child, i know not of tomorrow but walk with me.
Walk me with and lets make this talk a reality,
a vision seen by the mind and a mission won win the heart.
Your tears, your fears when we crawl-
despair not and walk with me.
Mama! The call of every son and daughter of man.
Every dawn and dusk,
a picture of uncertainity draws on the child's faces.
In my own motherland, their stomach shed hopeless tears of hunger.
They crave for what many put to waste as their tongues fail to taste and they retire to their graves.
Child, just walk with me.
poem by Anthony Opondo
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Who Will Cry?
Who will cry for the little child who goes for days without food?
Who will cry for the little child who parents beat them?
Who will cry for the little child who is mistreated for being different?
Who will cry for the little child who goes unloved?
Who will cry for the little child whose stomach is swelled up?
Who will cry for the little child who doesn't have clothes to wear?
Who will cry for the little child who is shunned for not being popular?
Who will cry for the little child who is molested every night?
Who will cry for the little child who's parents are not around?
Who will cry for the little child who has to take care of his self?
Who will cry?
Will you cry?
Cause I have.
poem by Natasha Ligons
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Give This Child What She Needs
Give this child what she needs
Love
Give this child what she needs
Shelter
Give this child what she needs
Prayers
Give this child what she needs
Some food and water
Give this child what she needs
Good parents
Give this child what she needs
Good manors
Give this child what she needs
A smoke free home
Give this child what she needs
Peace and happiness
Give this child what she needs
To know God
Give this child what she needs
Your guidance
Give this child what she needs
Clothes
Give this child what she needs
Your support
Give this child what she needs
Some family time
Give this child what she needs
A nice bath every day
Give this child what she needs
Some discipline
Give this child what she needs
A warm bed to sleep on
poem by Aldo Kraas
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One Last Time Of Summer
Looking for a parking spot
One last time
The boardwalks wait
One last time
The smell emanates
One last time
A child screams
One last time
The cotton candy spins
One last time
The crunch of a candy apple
One last time
Step right up
One last time
A video game
One last time
Miniature golf
One last time
A slice of pizza
One last time
An ice cream cone
One last time
A belly ache
One last time
Asleep in the car
One last time
poem by Brian Kilpatrick
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Moon Child
Moon child
Born wild
Never to be tamed.
Monsoon child
Composed child
Child of the un-named.
Rise child of the flower bloom
Swoon in as out of season.
Rise child of the silver moon.
Journey within reason.
poem by David Lacey
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Runaway Child
Runaway Child, don’t have to take it anymore
Runaway Child, just walk out of that door
Runaway Child, no more chances to take
Runaway Child, it’s your choice to make
Runaway Child, aren’t you sick and tired of the pain
Runaway Child, here there’s nothing to gain
Runaway Child, you get treated like dirt
Runaway Child, get away from the hurt
Runaway Child, here it’s no use
Runaway Child, get away from the abuse
Runaway Child, you don’t have 9 lives
Runaway Child, take that step or dive
Runaway Child, why are you still there
Runaway Child, how much pain can you bear
Runaway Child, you don’t have to say goodbye
Runaway Child, say goodbye, when they DIE!
poem by Patrick Harris
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Broken child
I see the face of a broken child.
A child who has seen more than his young eyes should.
I see the face of a broken child.
A child who would run away from it all if he could.
I see the face of a broken child.
A child who has been ravished by the likes of you and I.
I see the face of a broken child.
A child with to much pride to cry.
I see the face off a broken child.
a child who fights off anyone who cares.
I see the face of a broken child.
A child who wishes his mother was there.
I see the face of a broken child.
A child who wont let his hardships keep him down.
I see the face of a broken child.
A child who refuses to give up and reveal a frown.
poem by Joshua Reid
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