Writer’s Digest Wednesday Poetry Prompt #446: Cooking

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The Baker’s Manifesto

Betty Botter was a lousy cook,
but a swell baker,
for working with butter, sugar, flour, & eggs
was easy as pie,
a piece of cake,
a ginger snap even.
Throw chocolate chips into the mix,
& she was unstoppable.

The feel of raw meat made her sick,
& whoever referred to their kiddo
as Bacon or Hamburger?
It was always Cupcake or Sweetie Pie,
just as wretched men were pigs,
women, cows,
& dumbasses of both sexes were sheep—
mooing, oinking, bleating meat.

What’s more,
the smart cookies knew when
to shut their pieholes & cakeholes,
& stick a baguette in them,
for it was better to eat carbs
than to part your lips
& say something stupid.

http://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/wednesday-poetry-prompts-446

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#Fiction Friday: #Novelines from the Book

Mormoni

Mother said my testimony would become stronger every time I bore it, but was that not just because I would be convincing myself?

Mother would sometimes slip into the habit of speaking in old English, as that was how we were supposed to conduct ourselves in prayer.

Mormons loved fat-laden casseroles & water to drink at every function. It was thrift at both ends of the spectrum.

Funeral potatoes & lime-green Jell-O with shredded carrots no longer sounded strange to me. I was in their world, but not of it.

He went on & on about how wonderful his wife was, just as she went on & on how blessed she was to have a worthy priesthood holder in the home.

The Mormon garments had been the fabric that miracles were fabricated of, for they guarded one from fires, rape, & all manner of weaponry.

Sister Bear catching on fire seemed to appeal to more people than finding out Brother Schafer had once been a rake, & not of the gardening kind.

The bearing of testimonies was an exercise in mesmerism, cloaked in religious language, the brain lighting up in spiritual socialization.

Writer’s Digest Wednesday Poetry Prompt #441: Notice

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When This Little Twiggy Went to Meat Market (Notice: All Sales Final)

Twiggy Piggy, a foxymoronic sow,
went to look for a smokin’ hot mammalian beefcake
with whom she could cook up something tasty
(like a litter of mini meatloaves).
She turned down Monsieur Filet Mignon
after he made the piggist comment
that his preference was Kosher.
When Ground Biff said he needed a little pink slime
to beef him up,
she sunk her teeth into Sir Porterhouse–
liking the largeness & tenderness of him.
But she realized her haste
when he cornered her in her sty
& said
that after he was well-done,
all that would be left would be her squeal.

http://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/wednesday-poetry-prompts-441

Writer’s Digest Wednesday Poetry Prompt #435: Reserved

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The Bookworm in the Big Apple Tree

Pippin Applegate’s reserve of library books numbered the stars
(the kind that danced on reality TV),
but she hadn’t the time to read them,
for though her textbooks didn’t outnumber that stack,
they outweighed it by twenty pounds,
and she,
by significantly more.

Those textbooks–
as dense as her aunt Bobbi Dean’s triple butter buttermilkfat 5-pound cake,
(and Aunt B.D. herself)–
made her feel just as weighted down,
like Mr. Jonathan McIntosh when he was sauced.

Once she’d learned what she needed to know for a semester
(rather than a lifetime),
she returned to a life of wine, men, and poetry,
and,
when she was feeling fat,
spent her sweet tea breaks noshing on the cake pop version of that pound cake,
to which her frenemies referred as “her daily dozen.”

Then came along Little Miss Honeycrisp,
demanding loads of dough from all who craved her,
making Pippin feel even more rotten,
for she–
a wannabe tart who’d been trying to pass as a Granny Smith
(the best for baking)–
was,
sadly,
more suited for mincemeat.

http://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/wednesday-poetry-prompts-435

Writer’s Digest Wednesday Poetry Prompt #423: Little (Blank)

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Heard of chocolate milk moustaches? Well, this is a goatee.

Little Things (That Make Life Good)

Chocolate milk moustaches & the sound a straw makes when you’ve sucked it good to the last drop

The chocolate nugget at the bottom of a Drumstick sundae cone

Waking up to the aromas of bacon & coffee

Paper newspapers & excursions to the bookstore

The smell of matches after they’ve been struck, birthday candles after they’ve been blown out

The experience of ripping paper off a present rather than pulling it out of a bag

Front doors with glass that let the light in, open windows on a nice day

Non-committal sweaters (i.e. not pullovers) & clothes without zippers

The non-committal semicolon, the amazing em-dash, & the cute little ampersand

Clever epitaphs & witty puns

2 spaces after a period

Cursive writing & typewriter font

Whiteboards for practical use, chalkboards for decorative

Long, luxurious lavender bubble baths

Lady Stetson & Prell

Non-sitting cardio machines

Roller skates you can strap to your existing shoe

Real bicycles that take you places

Mint-green Mini Coopers

TV shows that aren’t set in Chicago, New York, or Los Angeles

Bright lipstick with shiny lip gloss

Clothes that don’t have to be dry-cleaned

No-sew sewing projects

Truffle making

Retro kitchens with modern appliances

Willow Tree nativity scenes & Precious Moments snow globes

The Hallmark Yule log with the dog & cat in front of the fireplace, classic Christmas music playing in the background

I Love Lucy–an allegory of the American Dream

Humor, because life is serious

http://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/wednesday-poetry-prompts-423

Sweet Little Nothings

Make all food finger food

Her friends & family were like a box of truffles—
some were sweet (but not cloying),
some were soft (like caramels left on top of the microwave),
some were hard (as if they’d long since passed the hard crack stage),
some were nutty (or just plain legume),
some were flaky (like coconut),
some were bitter (like cocoa in need of a spanking),
some were dense, some were cake-like,
& some were just plain cookie.