Poetry Corner

Enjoy these light-hearted poems by my fellow
 blog contributor, A. Poet. 
The views expressed on this page are those of A. Poet and do not necessarily
 reflect those of Frostine or That Really Frosts Me.com

Ode to My Mixer
Ode to a straight Sided Pan
White Cake
Icing
A Cake Haiku
The Poetic Rule
Chocolate Cake
Smooth Frosting
Cake Stacking
Fondant Accoutrements
My Cheapo From-Walmart Turntable
Frosted Cookies



Frosted Cookies

By A. Poet

The first time I tried them,
I must admit,
That frosted cookies were quite a hit,
With everyone that got to eat them.
Except for the fool that had to make ‘em.

How long could it take?
I asked myself
They’ll have to bake
Then cool on the shelf
But for a cakester that is nothing new.
Several hours later, oh boy, I knew!

If frosting cakes has been your thing,
Iced cookies now, they’re a harder thing.
They are so small and innocent looking,
And that is true regarding the cooking.
But frosting them is quite the chore
I’d rather buy them at the store.

If you’ve seen them for sale
For twelve dollars fifty
And thought that price was way more than nifty
Now I know why the price is that high
If I have to make more now I think I’ll die.

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My Cheapo From-Walmart Turntable
By A. Poet

A cakester needs a turntable,
And that much is quite true.
Spinning round the cake instead,
Sure beats spinning you!

There is one myth I would dispel,
To save you lots of sorrow.
And this is that to do it well,
Large sums you’ll surely borrow.

I bought my spinner at a store
Known for their value-pricing
And though I could have spent much more
This one gets done my frosting!

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Fondant Accoutrements
By A. Poet


If you’ve read my other work,
To discern would be no strain,
That though I might be termed a jerk,
My tastes run rather plain.

This funky, sticky fondant stuff
Has gotten out of hand.
I know I’ve eaten quite enough
Though cakesters think it’s grand.

A cake that has been wholly draped
With fondant plastic-looking,
Is a cake that will be wholly scraped
Before people begin chewing.

Fondant decorations placed with elegant panache,
Avoids most all these woes,
When slyly slipped into the trash
The cakester never knows!

The moral of the story here;
At least some will agree;
That if cake-scraping is what you fear,
Make your cake fondant-free.


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Cake Stacking
By A. Poet

Without proper stacking
Your cake will be lacking
In proper dimension
And draw more attention
To the lean in its side
And despite what you hide
All present can tell
That it didn’t go well
When you built up the stack
You did not have the knack
So when a cake you are making
Great cares you’ll be taking
To stack your cake square
Sitting straight in your chair
Or perhaps on your stool
Since you sure are no fool
This poem must stop
Or be counted a flop
The point has been made without bunting or tinsel
That careful cake-stacking’s essential!

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Smooth Frosting
By A. Poet

The ideal cake has many traits,
But one you’re sure to like,
Is how the frosting is as smooth
As the buttocks on a tyke.

To get that layer on my cake
I use clean paper towels.
The end result of all that effort
Curves up my sagging jowls.

So if you want your cake to be
Worth many dollars costing,
This advice I’ll give for free:
Be sure to smooth your frosting!

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Chocolate Cake
By A. Poet

I think that if a cake I made
There would be no real choices
For when the cake is a chocolate shade
I’d hear most joyous voices!

Some folks object
To a cake whose color is browner than the mud
That critique I just deflect
Cause a lighter cake’s a dud!

To an avant garde iconoclast
Exotic flavors bring glee
But since I have a more humble past
It’s chocolate cake for me!

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The Poetic Rule
By A. Poet

Poetry is strange,
At least I think so.
When written by others,
I sometimes don’t know
What the authors were thinking,
When the rhymes just don’t show.

A poem without rhyme
Is a sheer waste of time.
Just read my haiku
If you don’t think that’s true.
I’ve said many times,
Looking right down my nose.
That a poem without rhyme,
Is merely bad prose.

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A Cake Haiku
By A. Poet

A good cake haiku?
Despite my poetic gifts
I just don’t get it.

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Icing
By A. Poet

A cake without icing
Is hardly worth slicing.
It may smell enticing,
But its only for dicing
Into small little squares
One, by one, or in pairs,
For people who don’t share my poetic flairs.

That last line got long,
But it’s still part of this song,
And if I keep rhyming,
I sure can’t go wrong.
And so my cakes I’ll keep sliming
With sweet chocolate stuff
Cause without that topping cake eating is tough!

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White Cake
By A. Poet

White cake is a strange creation,
I don’t see why we need it.
It’s gobbled up o’er all the nation,
Though no one likes to eat it.

A perception of clean purity
Pervades its pale white pallor.
But eating it with surety
Requires scads of valor.

If a cake with taste is what you crave,
White cake is not for you.
Though I were stuck inside a cave,
I’d rather eat roast shrew.

White cake does not show through the icing,
And so that much is true
But, if my birthday cake should turn out white,
I’d throw it back at you!

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Ode to a Straight Sided Pan
By A. Poet

Straight-sided cakes
Are just what one wants,
In fact, when one lacks one it causes the grunts.
Using slanted-sided pans are much worse than bad fakes.

Slant sided pans, are a terrible plan.
Although they nest neatly for permanent storage,
The pains that they cause me I more than abhorrage.
I use a straight pan when I can.

A cake from a sloped pan needs way too much trimming.
They never stack nice, neat and tall.
Invariably straight ones are less apt to fall.
Sloped pans are just suitable for pond-algae skimming.

If a sloped pan is what you really must use,
I will wish you the best.
Soon you’ll be shrieking and beating your breast.
I’d rather bake cakes in my shoes!

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Ode to My Mixer
By A. Poet

I love my mixer,
It’s like an elixir.
I just love to use it,
But I never abuse it.
What a large mixer I have!

I bought it refurbished,
Its surface was burnished.
And although it was used,
I was completely enthused.
What a large mixer I have!

My KitchenAid mixer,
Makes my frosting much thicker.
Yet smooth just like butter,
Fresh from the cow’s udder.
What a large mixer I have!

My mixer is loud,
Shockingly loud.
The sound can be deafening,
But the results are so heavenly.
What a large mixer I have!

My husband sure hates it,
The sounds it emits.
It makes him feel grouchy,
As he sits on the couchy.
What a large mixer I have!

My mixer is big,
Weighing more than a pig.
So hard to pick up,
It will mix 24 cups.
What a large mixer I have!

I never would trade,
This large KitchenAid.
Though earplugs I need,
And my husband does plead.
What a large mixer I have!

I wrote this small poem,
Without xylem or phloem,
To express my own love,
For my mixer, my dove.
What a large mixer I have!


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