My Mother's Cake


  • Humor

    My Mother's Cake

    Caught red handed, my hand deep in the cake.
    My poor mother, it’d taken her all day to bake.
    Her own marzipan she had made,
    And there was me, striking a morning raid.
    Little fingers buried deep in the fruit
    All I could think about was the edible loot.
    I took so much I couldn’t eat it all,
    For my brother I did call.
    He helped to eat what I couldn’t conceal
    We pigged ourselves on the fruit and mixed peel.
    Mother’s horror at first blamed mice
    Took one look at her sons and thought twice
    My brother – he had the edge on me
    He was older, but I was too young to foresee.
    Being smart, he’d used toothpaste
    I just stood there with an innocent face.
    Our mouths were inspected inside.
    My poor mother, she could have cried
    I was caught red handed
    Boy, did I cry when the slipper landed.
    Dad’s slipper chased me up to bed
    Where I was to go hungry and not to be fed.
    In my bed I wept and lay
    Whilst my brother went out to play
    Looking back at this day we all smile
    It’s been a few years since – quite a while
    I’m a qualified chef now, and know how to bake
    But nothing beats my mother’s cake.

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    Tempestlady commented on My Mother's Cake


    Reminiscing brings such sweet smiles. I took divinity, with pecan cream. I though shewas gonna beat me to death!. I love it to this day. Stolen candy is always sweeter. Thanks for sharing. Write on....

    am2anangel commented on My Mother's Cake


    i once heard that everything tastes better if someone besides yourself makes it. But boy, I know some days no one can touch mom's cooking. i enjoyed this delicious poem.

    fennesse commented on My Mother's Cake


    how delightfully yummy this poem takes me back you paint a vivid picture of events.nice when men can cook and create. fascinating read

    LenaMP commented on My Mother's Cake


    Looks like you area talented in more than just baking. This story is wonderful. Did your mother ever find out? Too cute.

    sk commented on My Mother's Cake


    Very nice! And it's true; Nothing beats Mom's cooking...

    In science one tries to tell people, in such a way as to be understood by everyone, something that no one ever knew before. But in poetry, it's the exact opposite.

    Franz Kafka (1883-1924) Czech writer.

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