Best Munching Poems
Tiptoeing towards the edge of the towering cliff
I flap my wounded wings and fly
over tall two hundred year old oak trees
up to the top of the highest of mountains
scanning a never ending sovereign sky
I glide effortlessly in the strong southern trade winds
watching the fawn and her doe in the wilderness
My heart starts to beat, and I write
I write of the fragrant fancy free daisies growing unrestrained
of the sun smiling down
reflecting in the fast flowing babbling brook
of the doe munching on the savory green and yellow grasses
oblivious to her surroundings , the fawn firmly within her sight
I hear the songs coming from the red breasted baby Robin
calling to her mother wondering when she'll return with dinner
my heart beats lovingly and I write
I soar higher and higher heading for the heavens
past the mammoth yellowish orange coloured moon
through the mysteries of the milky way
all along thinking of the mysteries lying inside you
I open my eyes, imagine I'm with you and I write
06/01/2015
Categories:
munching, dream, imagination, love,
Form:
Free verse
Let me write you a poem.
A poem so great Bukowski would give me a hats off-
And hand me a beer.
A poem so well-written, John Mayer would play me a
Tribute song with his guitar.
Let me bring Shakespeare to shame-
Let me write you sonnets one and two,
Three, Four and maybe
Five hundred.
Let the only alliteration be that of our laughter,
As we exchange puns and stories.
Let the words “I love you” be an understatement.
Let us be the Paradox – and let the popcorn munching crowd watch us with awe.
Let the touching of our lips write Concrete poems.
Let your embraces warm me with Haikus.
Chase me through Couplets where we are the only couple.
Let the only Dramatic Monologue be that within my palpitating heart.
Wrap me with imagery-
Shower me with smiles and similes.
Be the Free Verse,
Be the Epic poem,
Be the Ghazal poetry drunkards wrote to their loved ones…
Be the hero in my Heroic couplets,
Be the one.
Just let me write you a poem-
Where your name is the only repeated term.
Where the only irony is the twist of fate that brought us together.
Where the only onomatopoeia is the ROAR of your rusty car’s engine.
Where we stand like Oxymorons- contradictory but side by side.
Just let me write you a poem.
Or a novel
Or a play
Or a song-
Let me write you something.
Categories:
munching, loveme, write, me, write,
Form:
Free verse
I had an alien for two weeks before I realized how unusual she was.
I wish I could be a mouse in the corner, I had said, and I was.
My alien gave me a cracker, patted me on the head, and reminded me
Once again, how important it is to keep her earth-visit quiet from the masses.
I nibbled on the cracker nervously, wondering how long I would be stuck
Wearing this smelly fur suit, dragging this ugly super long tail?
Praying that Shark, my killer cat was out hunting somewhere else.
Poof! I was back in my normal body.
What other talents do you have? I asked my alien friend.
Not in words because aliens from the two-galaxies-over talk in thoughts.
I am a tripartite, she tele-pathed to me.
What’s that?
Her body immediately transmogrified into three separate, untouching-pieces.
Before I could close my shocked wide-open mouth, she had transmuted back into one complete alien.
Can you disappear? I asked her.
That was the last I ever saw of her.
Some days, however, I feel that she is here, invisible, watching me,
On those days, I wonder if I am going to find
Myself munching on a cracker.
Categories:
munching, 2nd grade, 3rd grade,
Form:
Prose Poetry
A noisy House
Banging, clanging
screaming, squealing
babies crying
Mothers shouting
Keep quiet!
Dancing, singing
jumping, thumping
grannies munching
Mothers shouting
keep quiet!
Chatting, laughing
clapping, slapping
children scratching
Mothers shouting
keep quiet!...........
I sit here
in this noisy house
in a far corner
as quiet as a mouse
With pencil and book
and Ipod in ears
writing my poems
where nobody cares.
Categories:
munching, funny
Form:
Free verse
Cereal Killer
The story of his life
a made for TV thriller.
Title in blood red
life of a cereal killer.
He don’t want no fried eggs
or peanut butter toast.
He killed a box of grape nuts once
but he don’t like to boast.
He has Wheaties for his breakfast
Cheerios for his lunch.
For a mid day snack
he likes Captain Crunch.
He don’t want a T-bone
he don’t want French silk.
Corn flakes and some sugar
in a great big bowl of milk.
Along about suppertime
as he hides from the cops.
Sitting in the shadows
munching sugar pops.
He don’t mean to scare you
sometimes he behaves.
Even when it’s boo berry
or Count Chocula he craves.
He’s no threat to society
at a table or a booth.
He’s just a cereal killer
with a really bad sweet tooth.
From early dawn til after dusk
he’s never gonna stop.
You hear him in his kitchen
going snap crackle and pop!
Edwin C Hofert
Categories:
munching, addiction, crazy, fantasy, funny,
Form:
Rhyme
Once upon a midnight, ghostly,
Partied many, dead ones mostly.
Feasting in the graveyard, sprightly,
White eyed werewolves gorged, engrossedly.
In the bone yard, drab and squalid,
Apparitions (staring stolid
Neath the veiled moon, clouded lightly)
Sought fresh bodies, lean but solid.
Fiendish eyes shone, light and sparkly,
Ghouls and demons danced so darkly.
Maggots munching mush unsightly,
Black blood streamed like ink, quite starkly.
Fetid flesh oozed, flowing freely
Through the crypt doors, cold and steely.
Shadows, ashen, pranced contritely,
Ebon serpents slithered eely.
As it happens, all too often,
Zombies dimly closed the coffin –
Ra, the sun god, rising slightly
Hunger pangs were soon to soften.
If you ask, I’ll tell you blankly,
When you’re feeling dark and dankly
Come to where this happens nightly.
They’ll enjoy the feast, quite frankly...
Categories:
munching, fantasy, horror,
Form:
Rubaiyat
caterpillar dreams
of wings and sweet nectar -
while munching tough leaves
Categories:
munching, butterfly, nature,
Form:
Haiku
There is an antique writing desk
in my little study
handed-me-down
from generations of would-be
writers in my family
And there are ancient creatures
from days gone by
living in this old desk still
evil, larcenous little creatures
envious of literary skill
This explains much
Lately, I have caught them unawares
aghast, thought I imagined them
but they are really there
surly, sinister, repugnant creatures
in my writing desk
There's a putrid little jerk,
called Pernishicus who lurks
behind the piles on my desk
glorying in the mess
a malevolent, grimy-mauve gremlin
Who preys on newly created works
stealthily spraying them
with foul feculence
as soon as I commence
my writing-
...Sometimes missing slightly
and tagging my hand
making it hard to stand
myself (much less my writing)
for days on end
Then there's a creepy
mesmerizing fiend
they call Spelbadger
a translucent thing, quite obscene
who shifts in the shadows and purrs
With dark eyes deep- constantly changing
like stones from mood-rings
set in his skull
he psychically bullies,
intimidates and muddles
until my poor brain
is worn and dull
And perhaps worst of all
is that one, Grumblesleaze
with pale, glowering eyes diseased
a gray-green, mangy looking thing
whose famous quirk
is that he has the gall
to grouse about my work...
As he viciously shreds it
then glunshing and munching
greedily devours it all
leaving no note
or trace of remembrance
of my past brilliance
behind
Oh, out of spite
he might leave a few
of my ill-penned
unfortunate lines
I planned to cut anyway
or pull my worst attempts
from the waste-can
and lay them out
to remind me of my failures
Yes, this explains much
For there was only one before
our one lone ancestor
who was able to write
at this desk prolifically
tapping out volumes rather heroically
'Though tiresome and tedious
dry history and drivel
which, no doubt, shrank and shriveled
and lulled these creatures off
to sleep for years
Until we woke them up
broke their hibernation
with more interesting stories
and imagination, colorfully crafted
ingenious, piece after piece
Clicking and clacking away
on typewriters, keyboards
generation after generation
of irritatingly gifted writers
disturbing their peace
it had to cease...
Categories:
munching, anxiety, feelings, humor, humorous,
Form:
Free verse
It was really a simple thing
Four chains holding a large plank
Suspended from the ceiling
A big blue swing
Summer at its peak
Heat touching 45 degrees
Cousins all crammed up
On a large blue swing
Listening to granny’s stories
The distant fan slowly whirring
Laughing and giggling at nothing
On a large blue swing
Plate in hand my brother would sit at its end
Pretending to drive an airplane
Never knew planes did not have steering
On the large blue swing
Sometimes when no one was around
I’d sit on it with outstretched hands
Barely touching both its ends yet feeling like a queen
On a large blue swing
With my favourite cousin sometimes I’d sit
Munching hot salted peanuts
Pouring out our deepest secrets
On a large blue swing
At noon in granny’s lap I’d lie
And listen to her lullaby
Soon asleep, without a worry in life
On a large blue swing
Like the swing her hopes never ran high
She spoke to me of days gone by
Looking beautiful, despite a toothless smile
On a large blue swing.
Today it is no more there
With grandma it slowly passed away
But memories still remain
On the large blue swing.
Categories:
munching, childhoodblue, blue, cousin, ,
Form:
Free verse
It’s the fifth of November; Bonfire Night is finally here
The guy is set alight, oh how the little children cheer
Smoke billows, flames dance, tiny faces are aglow
We eat hot chestnuts; munching them with great gusto
Mummy gives me a sparkler it burns with a dazzling light
Sparks fly like liquid silver, they are wondrous sight
Such a kaleidoscope of colours light up the evening sky
A rocket blooms like a chrysanthemum way up high
Golden sparks stream as the catherine wheels spin
Hear the cracker jack explode; their noise makes such a din
Fireworks illuminate the sky, the crowd gasps with delight
The display ends in a crescendo on this gala Guy Fawkes night
Penny for the guy Contest
Sponsored by Shadow Hamilton
11~01~16
Categories:
munching, beautiful, color, fire, firework,
Form:
Couplet
Hmm
What is life ? some say life is a puzzle and I ask is it one we will ever complete?
Huh? Tell me will the puzzle ever be complete because I know and you know you can't just go in a store and buy the pieces in a box all pretty and neat.
For these pieces people compete they don't just open a box and pour the pieces on a table and sit in a seat while munching on sweet treats!
They walk roads nebulous and rocky until they get blisters on their feet
Rent has to be paid two jobs three kids and they still have to eat!
They try to keep their minds neat even though their knee deep and bound
For defeat they continue to dig deep.
The pieces for this puzzle isn't cheap! Some pieces you throw away some
Pieces you keep but some pieces you hold in your hand and contemplate
Without sleep! Some pieces might cut you inside and the wounds are
Root deep.
I saw my mother bleeding I held her face and said you need sleep she
Said you know son that's the only time everything seems complete!
She dropped some tears and walked away it reminded me of a rainy
Day I grabbed her and said everything is going to be ok she said I know
The Lord is going to make a way but we just get emotional when he takes
Away so we break away those pieces he hides and temporarily takes-away!
We try to regain it because of our thirst it makes it worst instead of
Our power we should make his first.
What is life? Some say a puzzle and it is complete all we have to do
Is keep it neat but because of the devils deception we suffer blindness
And defeat . Let The Lord complete your puzzle you just keep it neat.
Put aside your footsteps and let The Lord plant his feet don't walk
Ahead but walk with in his trail and you will never fail on the road to
Victory you will sail and when you fall don't cry to hard you
Might drown his voice instead give praise and rejoice and he will guide
Your choice.
At the end your puzzle will be complete so hard so easy so soft so bitter sweet
But with The Lord you can keep it neat.
By: Elliott Bowe aka the DrUnKeN PoEt
Categories:
munching, inspirational, life, sweet, life,
Form:
Free verse
There are twenty four days
left to Christmas and already
small children dream of toys;
isn't there a better way
for them to forget the cold
and see some magic unfold?
Skinny Willy has built a snowman,
he's getting ready for a winter's tan;
his cheeks are turning red like strawberries,
but funny is his belly stuffed with jellybeans
and California sweet cherries...
he has shaken many trees!
He and Santa make a perfect pair,
munching on a delicious eclair;
oh, laugh skinny Willy: beware of naughty Billy...
he will knock down your snowman so quickly!
Skinny Willy has built a snowman
with a grim face and a funny chin;
all he wants is fast Christmas music and eat
mom's ginger cookies while swinging his long feet!
Written on 12/1/ 2016
Categories:
munching, children, christmas, fun, music,
Form:
Rhyme
As I hear clinks of your cups
I can listen to orange sounds in your ample eyes
I can hear your obvious highs as if nearing a sea
Morning in a humming bee
You are busy at the mild harsh and tasty sound
The butter knife spreading butter on the dark dense toast
For the person you love the most
Eloquent silence all around
Soft munching sound from inside our mouth
Mingles with the wind from south
The door bell chimes its beautiful tune
Like the monsoon
Then comes the rustling of newspaper pages
The train crossing so many bridges
Combines with the rhythmic drumming of the woodpecker
The sound of your stirring sugar
Bubbling of boiled water in the kettle
They settle
In a silent sound of a loud red lily in bloom at the window
As rain falls in a crescendo
The flip flop of your sandals
Passing into your bangles clinking together
Culminating in the slurp as we sip tea
Real moments of pure glee
A great strength
Against the various wavelengths
Of the bang bark bray
Throughout the day
_______________________________________________________________
June 19, 2016
Categories:
munching, analogy, beautiful, beauty, bird,
Form:
Free verse
There’s a goat on my roof and he won’t come down;
there’s a goat on my roof, acting like a clown.
That clip-clop of hooves, what obnoxious noise;
though it’s amazing, his level of poise.
What drew him there, I do not know,
there wasn’t any food or foe.
Just walking around, he thinks he’s hot,
I had to tell him, he is not.
He’s munching my oak, from the roof top;
I’ve yelled till I’m hoarse, to get him to stop.
My neighbor says, a goat is good Feng Shui;
so, I suppose I will just let him stay.
Categories:
munching, animal, fun, funny, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
Whilst I stand munching oats and fresh hay
Kitty visits, she’s my special friend
If she proffers a mouse I’ll say neigh
as a mouser kitty’s a godsend!
Kitty visits, she’s my special friend
I look forward to see her each day
As a mouser kitty’s a godsend
I enjoy watching my friend at play
I look forward to see her each day
on my company she can depend
I enjoy watching my friend at play
Kitty chases mice right to the end
On my company she can depend
If she proffers a mouse I’ll say neigh
Kitty chases mice right to the end
whilst I stand munching oats and fresh hay
Pantoum Rhyme - Personification Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Eve Roper
Checked with how many syllables - 9 per line, and rhymezone
Image 2 used
04/19/20
Categories:
munching, animal, friendship,
Form:
Pantoum