Long Appetite Poems
Long Appetite Poems. Below are the most popular long Appetite by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Appetite poems by poem length and keyword.
When I make my bed,
and find you not by my side,
I can’t get sleep, I feel alone;
You are always on my mind.
Awake every night, finding none
to share my cup of coffee with,
every morning, I feel lonely;
you are always on my mind.
When I sit at the table for dinner,
my appetite dies, seeing you not there,
for serving my most favorite dish;
you are always on my mind.
While watching my favorite movie,
I feel dejected, finding no shoulder
to lean upon my head so fondly;
you are always on my mind.
When I am in my low spirits,
and no one is near me to console,
I feel upset, taking the blame on me;
you are always on my mind.
I’m Cindy Mae, come walk today
among my village of snow-people and play
with my Billy goat, Fagan and I;
just outside of the red barn, it lies.
I built it with my own two hands,
with smiles, cold fingers, I now stand,
among snow-babies, pure and white;
I must name them all, before the fall of night.
Oh Fagan, Fagan, what shall we call them?
They’re all so very cute and prim.
I’ll name one Billy, one Fagan, after you;
another after my new baby sister, Sue.
As these snow-stars continue to fall,
it makes me think of cotton balls;
I’ll name one Cotton, one Q-tip,
those two, I will name Chip and Skip.
Oh Fagan, aren’t they wonderful?
This day, I have just had a ball.
Now there’s two more that need a name;
I know, I’ll call them, John and James.
Those are my cousins who’ve never seen snow;
they reside in California, in Garden Grove.
Fagan I’ve worked up an appetite,
and Mom’s making warm stew tonight!
Duplicity seems
the eagles's keenness,
to impend and kill
the marabous that rest,
too insecure, into
the dusky and calm sunset...
Without vigilance
no prey is seized by claws,
the warm flesh must bleed
to make it painfully croak;
crudities aren't fit
for a bloody, raw palate...
Duplicity shapes
the hawks' narcissism by greed,
to fret the geese that
plan no imminent escape;
they may seem robust,
but they lack all required strength...
Sanguinary hawks,
which frail fowl can satiate
your brute appetite?
Hunters seek your hidden broods,
as you seek your preys
for a delicious buffet...
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Thoughts that lead us into poetry
an appetite for a life out of the ordinary
Quiet when needed
The will to be playful and imaginative
Sometime humorous,
so that the shadow of death will not seize us
The latitudes of longing
words that evoke emotion and mood
where poetry never dies
and fire does not gos out
even if doors and gates are closed
It's alike finding the right tone
to breathe and blow well, find beauty
and deep tones
Ask the wind
It can be a challenge
when it blows outside and inside
at the same time
Paper dies
ink fades
but poetry lives
When the sun
slowly drowning in the sea
27.11.2020
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Where do we poets go? Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Silent One
2nd place in the contest
Exhuming dreams buried in time,
you are in constant denial.
And concealing your misery,
truth hides behind a plastic smile.
Forged upon empty promises;
delusion warps reality.
And you're lost in a fantasy;
where hurt's a matter of degree.
Flattery's lies confuse your heart:
for they are never what they seem.
And as your doubts gather in strength,
Hope can't suppress a silent scream.
Anxieties accumulate;
morphing into a restless night.
For scraps of love are not enough
to satisfy your appetite.
The years flow like the sands of time;
to where disappointment awaits.
And donning a mask of fake smiles,
Hope diminishes, while Death baits.
rossettis Christina
& Gabriel's
daydream became reality
his living hell for all to see
his beta,wife and muse
a love,on her death
he was to lose
auburn beauty-
sumptuous clothes
in a stunning pose
with long flowing tress
what she thinks
is anyonels guess
fleeting beauty-fresh
so
come by
come buy
eagerly lap
so exotic
this
drizzling
juice
crushed
fruit
sweet to the tongue
sound to he eye
come by
come buy
superbundant
innocence
in
abundance
aplenty
come by
come buy
jouissance
succulent
fruit
crushed
pulpy
to whet
your appetite
let
your
imagination
run
wild
effusive
prelapsarian
with
delicious desire
come by
come buy
take it
as
it
comes
Wuzzy, a voracious reader,
chewed through books, a reading speeder.
A vocabulary leader,
gobbled all her folks would feed her.
On her shelf, a ten volume set,
one that she had not read yet.
Covers each an eighth inch thick,
thousand page tomes, four-inch bricks.
Wuzzy could not help herself;
devoured them right on the shelf.
Starting at book one, page one,
she chewed till ten’s last page was done.
So here’s a puzzle just for you:
what length of books did Wuzzy chew through?
----------
for the Kids Creativity and Learning Poetry Contest
sponsored by Eve Roper
written on 3/11/23
Oh, let me be just not
a dweller of the past
in sentimental folly
for years done long ago
For knowing that the tides
for me, will one day cease
and twilight sun illuminates
the beaches of my life
So easy has it come
to feed this appetite
forgetting worries of the day
to smile on yesteryear
The sweet, familiar chords
of favored melodies
offer comfort not reserved
in present songs of age
Yet, let me be just not
a dweller of the past
and find the joy in days ahead
with gratitude and love
To all wo crave turkey...good appetite and good health!
Utilize your skills in creating charm in a bright dining room.
Round up the best ideas for success, ask if you need help.
Kidding yourself is absurd, get all the help from friends.
Enamor yourself with dinnerware and silverware that match.
Yearn for an athmosphere so warm, cheerful and elegant.
Allow kindness when dealing with kids who spill apple cider.
Nobody should be privileged to say Grace but the host.
Dance afterward with everyone in the decorated living room.
Papa can smoke his cigar, if it doesn't bother the guests.
Unity should be stronger on this day when all thank the Lord.
Major issues about noises, caused by children, should be ignored.
Pretend that Thanksgiving Day is the last one they'll ever see.
Keyboard should play Hymns of thanks, not songs they all like.
Inside the fireplace, the red log crackles reminiscing Thansgivings past.
Nag not when the dog chases the cat under the table...laugh!
Parents should be soft, not harsh...let Thansksgiving be a fun day!
Inside the fireplace the log crackles...reminishing of Thanksgivings past.
Endure the screams and the fights a little longer...no child is an angel.
Say the final prayer of gratitude as everyone bows their heads.
I grew up in a house where quiet girls
were taught to mute their magic,
to inherit hunger as habit,
to wear obedience like a charm against chaos.
But a rebel lived beneath my ribs~
a spark fierce enough to trouble the gods,
a flame Prometheus might have hidden
in the hollow behind my heart.
I carried three hundred pounds of silence,
a body built from borrowed belief,
each pound a pledge to mediocrity
I never meant to make.
Like Demeter searching the underworld,
I wandered through my own shadowed depths,
both seeker and captive,
both the darkness and the one defying it.
Breath became my rebellion,
rising against the old stories,
moving through me with a slow, steady courage
loosening the lies stitched into my skin.
I shed the self-spun shackles
that shaped my silence,
the silk-thin stories I once mistook for truth.
I stripped away the soft-voiced scripts
that said appetite was identity,
that desire was disorder,
that change was a forbidden fire.
I felt the ego’s elaborate costume begin to crumble~
its velvet vanities, fretwork of fear,
its lace-lined legends that kept me bound
to borrowed belief.
I let them fall like false finery,
a quiet cascade of discarded myths
as I stepped into the woman I was meant to become.
Like Gair splitting the sky,
I tore through the tyranny of my conditioning.
I rose lighter, sharper,
a woman remade by defiance~
a rebel who returned to herself.