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The Provisional Poet: Holiday Log Cake

Billy-Boy Wordsworth defined poetry as "the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings." Fitting then, we should apply this definition when we speak of fabulous fare. See if you can relate to this week's victual verse and feel free to pen a few lines of your own, should you be so inspired.

Christmas wood.
Christmas wood.

O Holiday Log Cake! (in the spirit of O Holy Night!)

O Holiday Log Cake! I bought you from the Safeway, Your creator, a hair net she wore. Plastic for a womb, today will be your birthday. And the world will know what lies in your core. A thrill of hope, as the plastic label's broken. My eyes are wide, as they take in the scene.

Axe of purist gold! Santa, don't look so frightened! O, holiday log cake, O, holiday of chocolate wood. O, holiday log cake! O, holiday log cake!

More verse after the jump.

Trouble for the log.
Trouble for the log.

O Holiday Log Cake! (in the spirit of O Holy Night!)

Led by a knife, whose blade was sharply gleaming, With hungry eyes, into your sweet flesh I slice. Hiding close by, a Tusken Raider scheming, How could I know chocolate logs were his vice? Chocolate goodness everywhere is flowing. Your skin of frosting takes my breath away.

The delicious aftermath.
The delicious aftermath.

Behold the log! Watch Out, the Tusken Raider! O, holiday log cake! O, poor holiday log cake!

Screaming at the sight, of your entrails so muddled. Your plastic jewels, once in glorious light. I am left unharmed, your golden axe I cuddle, It's kept me safe from the Tusken Raider's might. You gave of yourself, so that I may go on living, I won't forget my miracle of chocolate wood.

Back to the Safeway! You've been reborn, to eat again! O, holiday log cake! O, second holiday log cake!


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