Long Buffet Poems
Long Buffet Poems. Below are the most popular long Buffet by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Buffet poems by poem length and keyword.
In the void of my transitional mind,
the aimless scatter-shots of snapshot in kind
finding itheir way.through pokes in the brine.
Saran wrap bindings of biased memories, invent orys,
and tupper-ware leftovers tidings of dreams, kept palatable for the aroaming beasts.
I find the manipulations stirring like mercurial-gravy,
sardonical Last Suppers of my humanity at
the toppings station, insulting.
Where's the variety, where's the if there
is a will there's a way?
Where's the frikkin beef?
I heard that commercial say- (I agree,
where's our defense against the dark arts Teacher
or our non f'd with bandwith to have our say?
;My Atriuk-Consultants,
disappearing, through a buffet line
of suitors for my gun hand-as treason's malignant mercenary gland.
Stranger in a strange clan.
Now every thought is like a remembrance, a
severance to pay for it all.The tying to-me
in Gordian crossroads mocked silverly
by multi directional unabaiting winds
blowing adversarily.
Each pointing "this way you fail !"
"Every which way a noose !"
"This way you fall !"
Of on the loose this way dungeon echoes
a calling as dark corridor Shades
with no true form to call.
The past haunts, the future calls,
lost in the chaos urn, as time falls-
in diminished return,
for the base is nearly full to lay
as a squandored mound of time.
Like shooting stars across the sky,
my dreams flicker, then fade and die?
Searching for purpose, to see what sticks.
I fire all of my rounds at once
In this endless maze of day and night I pace
these walls, like those Demonic Shades,
who chant "hey Jude" and perform "Jude Law"
in Shakespearean play, "There's something about Mary...
whomever target to sway. Come wicked this way s.
But in the darkness, I find a kin-spark
guide in my self defense,
of cheerlead everence in reference to
hope belonging to everyone the same.
A torch in the deepening dark
to saber heroicly for my good name.
Iwill rise from the sullen ashes,
strong and brilliantly bright, aiimless no more,
faith in my sights.
Pull !
Let the scatter shot fall where it may,
I'll carve my path, come what may.
For in the chaos, I see the arts of strength,
the part I play,
I find beauty's confidence and vision
in the facets of my jaded heart,
that maybe I can help the World in some small but
contrite way.
A weasel wibble wobbling can be said to have ingested copious amounts of indemonstrable indelible ink today as it soared into doorways, hallways, cloakrooms, and buffet tables. Buffet tables are neither buffaloes or bongos. In fact they are a pleasant sight to behold. Many colours. Many tastes. And the sounds of chatting from the sandwich stack is delightful especially when the mayonnaise is chuckling away at the jokes told by the ham and cheese. Little dainty cup cakes are immature so a quality conversation cannot be held. And the large jug is rather unintelligible and uninteresting as it yawns away the hours before the consumption takes place. The operatic oversized plate of soprano pineapples and chords of cheese with onions today but the mighty weight of the plate of rice and pasta salad bangs away and interrupts the acts really so the sauces must line up and push the nuisance plate to the floor and this they did. The dog was very very pleased and lay down after eating it all for a doze. And over half a dozen eggs kept jumping up and down and throwing their mayonnaise hats off. We font want these hats. We want whipped cream they shouted. The despondent tablecloth groaned. Another booming buffering buffet. And then the cutlery began having races between the foods. Zoom zoom zoom. Wow. The might of the jar of gherkins was being prayed to by the punnet of strawberries. And the profiteroles were preforming Pilates to an amused potatoe salad. The salt and pepper were arguing over who got used the most. And the coleslaw was diving on and off the pizza slices which annoyed the pepperoni who shouted go away in a very high pitched voice. Buffet battling bemusingly being buttering breadsticks. And now the time had arrived. The hungry swans and tulip people were here. They saw the mess. Blamed the dog. Then walked out in disgust. Oh dear. The tablecloth picked itself up and all it's contents too then went out of the back door and soared off in the air. It landed on a busy beach where it fed lots of little sea urchins. Who were grateful. They gave the tablecloth an ice cream to say thanks. Then the tablecloth went into the sea and swam to the island of the nine figs. Great isn't it. Ha ha the waves want wands. Hahaha boats bouncing into the sky. Left angled fueled fuel vision of a visionary variant spelling of mid. Xxxxx contemplation z z z z in a kiosk z
Form:
I longed for the days when the earth will smile again and the penitence of its mind will humble itself before the benevolent sky and the assemble of peace will be trod bountifully through the street.
I long for the days when the hill and the valley will meet and walk hand in hand in the street and greet the people we meet and pass on a word of encouragement to those that fall from the heavens. And time will tell how he constructed that hypnotic well to release his mind from the pit of hell.
I longed for the days when the sun will smile with the rain and cool the desert flame, the cactus will grow in abundance and moisture will cover the desert land and the plants will flourish all over the land and the sun will obey its command.
I long for the days when I can dine outdoors, and watched the waves riding on the shore, I will write a verse or two, and listen to the music singing in the wind. I will breathe in the fresh air from the atmosphere and write a romantic poem for thee and absorb the moisture in my flesh from the sea.
It is the touch of love that will ride with the vision from above and somewhere out there in the atmosphere; you will feel the difference of time racing with the spirit of the divine.
I long for the days when I can walk in my old school again, and bring the place alive just like old time. I will walk along the corridors and mesmerize my golden sorrows and the path I took that gave me a hundred books.
I will dance underneath the trees, just like how it used to be, I will bring my friends alive and reminisce their sacrifice. I will recapture the memory of spending long hours in the study room and could not take a shower until the following day at noon. I will go to the gym and workout on the tread mill and hum my childhood hymn.
I long for the day when I can travel the world again and meet people from every, race, color, creed, nation and culture. We will have happy times together, have buffet meals for supper and sing Kaluki at noon. We will learn about each other’s culture and play games together, and when the evening is done, we will stand on the board, walk and gaze out yonder and our heart will be together.
I long for the day when I will meet all my television friends, we will have lemonade on ice and we will tell stories in the moonlight.
There’s a party tonight so I bouffe up my hair
Pamper and powder my sweet derrière,
Arrive at the door, all done up to impress.....
Oh man, I forgot! Invite said “fancy dress”!
Pete and Sue are here, seems their theme’s ‘Tarts and Vicars’,
Sue’s skirt’s microscopic! Look at her tiny knickers!
Pete’s in a nun’s habit; the image is scary,
I’ve not seen a nun with a chin that’s THAT hairy!
And there’s Spider-Man! (although I’m perfectly certain,
His cape is made out of his living room curtain),
His curve-hugging costume’s quite “cosy” in size,
I think our friend Spidey gobbled too many flies!
In the corner, a lady has come as Snow White,
Gee, her bosoms are out there, her corset’s so tight,
They look like two bald heads squeezed into a sack,
Glad my hubby’s not here - he’d have a heart attack!
In the hallway, a robot is looking well-oiled -
Her costume’s made out of three rolls of tin foil,
She looks more like a turkey at Christmas, so later,
I really hope no one is tempted to baste her!
By the buffet, Fred Flintstone is looking contrite,
I think he and Wilma are having a fight,
Behaving all “caveman” has got Fred in trouble -
He showed his big man-club to poor Betty Rubble!
There’s a massive man-baby dressed just in a nappy,
The “milk” in his bottle has made him quite happy,
He’s shaking his tooshie and sucking his dummy,
And asking a lady, “can I call you Mummy?”
On the sofa is Princess Fiona from Shrek,
Blimey, Count Dracula’s nibbling her neck,
I avert my eyes to avoid his rising passion,
In walks his wife, and his face turns quite ashen.
His irate wife’s dressed up as pop singer Cher,
In her see through outfit she looks almost bare,
Then she lays into Drac just like Rocky Balboa -
She’s drunk as I skunk, I’m relieved I don’t know her!
Suddenly, Batman bursts through the door,
In his skintight costume - my jaw hits the floor!
He’s so muscular - bulges in all the right places,
If I play my cards right, could be me he embraces!
Well sadly I haven’t a costume of course,
Til I spot a young chappie dressed up as a horse,
I leap on his back - I’m a great improviser -
Strip off and shout “Hey I’m Lady Godiva!”
Collaboration between Jan Allison and the amazing Nina Parmenter
3/17/18
Legend Of The Black Dove
(Part 10) "The Unknown World "
After leaving Monterey by ship, the Columbia encounters a strange storm
accompanied by a heavy mist that creates a voyage through time to another
place. The captain discovers they are in Dover harbour but everything
seems different, Norrington, Jenkins, Captain Owens, and first officer Hill
investigate the huge ship named 'Albatross', which is moored in the port.
The huge ship's bridge is full of weird levers and instrumentation, Owens
notices a placard on the ship's wheel stating ''The Albatross built at Newcastle
in 1929", also a calendar dated 1930, and it all starts to make sense, including
the weird mist that transported them through time from 1750 to the year 1930.
Captain Owens realises that the freak storm may possibly return and if they were
lucky enough it may take them back to their normal timeline. He suggests
they should all return to the Columbia. They are about to leave when the watch
crew comes back. They are heavily armed with rifles and a machine gun. The
Captain of the Albatross tells them: "Halt! Hands up!" and their men search
them for concealed weapons. They are later taken on deck. While the two
captain's hold a discussion Owens tells Captain Ryder that they are here by accident
not design as a strange wind brought them from 1750 to 1930. He could not
understand why this happened but they seem now stranded here. The only
chance of returning is to try to reconnect with the wind taking us back to our
own time, and things will once again be normal. While they are talking they
see in the distance that the storm is returning, and Ryder agrees to help them
but they need to be quick, as the storm is approaching the Columbia very fast.
Ryder tells his crew to release the men and start the ship's engines. Within a
few minutes the Albatross reaches the Columbia. The storm is now upon them.
As Captain Owens man's the ship's wheel, they set sail towards the storm whereas
the Albatross flees the scene. Seconds later the Columbia is engulfed in fog. It is
happening again, the speed becomes faster and faster, the ship begins to shake
and buffet, and then starts to slow down again.
Continued.....10B
Written: 11th August 2013
Miss Muffet was a girl of thirteen, filled with youth's beauty and charm;
And a love of vibrant life zealous, like eager, vivid thunder of blue alarm.
She was a fine student, pert and popular; like the primrose popularity;
Or stars appearing at the designated hour, sparkling like crystal clarity.
Mary Muffet lived in a small town, with loving parents and her siblings,
Who sympathized with her fear of spiders; like colorful, fall misgivings.
Friends flanked their white picket fence, in fall days of glamour, striking;
And wove fanciful tales with flourish, like flowering genesis, so enticing!
Far off family ofttimes visited Fernglen, with its farms, rich with future;
For fishing and other rollicking fun, staying on 'til varicolored, fall rumor.
They lived in the house of quaint beauty, like charming red, berry sun;
Fondly gazing on pearly moon twice daily, the ritual begun on day one.
Songs sunrise to sunset serenaded, on dappled, silent, Sowerby Street;
But, a scorching summer bled scarlet roses, at the red butterfly retreat.
Near neighbors stayed on a first name basis, in unending, plum seasons;
Of days and nights of green nature; like teal surf, which never weakens.
Summer's glory was in the tiny details, like prayer plants, giving praise;
When sun face orchids, wore sunny smiles, in colored fields of noon haze.
And jade baby toes plants were crawling, through hours of soon history;
In honey days of bicolored hibiscus, filled with heady scents of mystery.
Mary attended a church celebration one day, along with her whole family;
And food was served indoors and out, as pink robin sang of gold, happily.
Mary had such fun playing games! There was much laughter and talking.
Then Mary had a craving for cheese, so like shadows, inside went walking.
Once inside, 'Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet, eating her curds and whey;
There came a big spider, who sat down beside her, And frightened Miss Muffet away.'
As Mary screamed and ran, causing a rumpus, she drew a lot of attention;
But, was suddenly embarrassed by her overreaction, like fall's suspension.
Little Miss Muffet was thence more mature, a natural result of getting older,
And fear of spiders was left behind, like summer blossoming, grown bolder.
She lay there ever so still
Pulling up the blanket as she begins to feel a chill
Eyes rolling to the back of the head
As she rolls over in her bed
Body functions slowed down while her mind sped
As she lay ever so calm her mind decides to open
The first sight is that of rose petals floating
As they land on a bed made for a king
Walking through the big wood door
The sun shines through the windows from the ceiling to the floor
A light skinned man standing 6 feet tall with the most cut muscles is something she could not
ignore
He starts to close the shades to darken the room
As she sits on the bed starring at him she has no idea what he has in store
One thing she did want to do is explore
As he starts to light candles to give the room that dim light
She thinks in her head I am going to have fun tonight
He looks at her and says “do you have your passport because tonight we are going to take
flight”
Asking for her permission as he wants to be polite
She thinks to herself no need to ask your going to stay overnight
He approaches her and she licks her lips has her heart begins to race
Laying her down on the silk sheets he knows he is going past first base
His hand going up her shirt as he lands that first kiss on her lip
Taking heavy breaths and she has boarded and about to take a trip
His hands working his way down and her pants he begins to unzip
Slowly touching her body all over she cant take it anymore as she yells strip
Two bodies pressed together under a silk smooth sheet
Gripping his back while biting her tongue as the plane is now in the air
The dragon no longer defends as the knight has entered her lair
Eyes rolling to the back of her head full of pleasure she can’t bare
She couldn’t help herself “don’t stop” was her declare
She was finally getting what she always wanted which was a love affair
Penetrating to the back of her lair he goes
Reaching her climax her body shaking she froze
The plane landed and up she arose
Fully satisfied in his arms she lay
She only wanted his treats but she got the whole buffet
No longer wanting to be closed she gave him the key
The best night that she has ever had is something she must agree
She woke up suddenly to realize it was just a fantasy
© Jeremy Fennell
Stripped like a slave I have no freedom
No rights inside this enclosed life
Its starring me in the eyes what do I do with this knife
Dropping it as it crashes to the cold tiled floor
I fall right behind it as darkness surrounded me with a closed door
No point to scream and shout I don’t see any future that can restore
I crawl on my knees for your liking
Bruised skin and open wounds drenched in alcohol as it begins to sting
Swinging back and forth on the rope of life a tight grip I cling
Letting go to a tragic death I know ill be under Gods wing
Shot with bullets and shot with what we call a dart
Living along side of me but were you really with me from the start
Saying those spiteful and hurtful words I pushed you away and soon I fear we will part
I paint my life on a canvas which now has many dark spots but it’s still classified as art
Feeling left in the rain struck by lightning shaken by thunder you can’t see that I have a
bleeding heart
The one day that was given to me from God the one and only
I still sat in a corner starring through a double platted glass all lonely
There were false tellings that day
Learned not to bite off more than I can chew because I don’t live the life that of a buffet
Sorry I was such a disappointment to you
Thinking my life is perfect and everything is fine I say “if you only knew”
Not asking for the wind to come but with no control it blew
Life is not a game in which you can jus undue
I wish I could because I use to look out the window now starring at a wall is my view
I once had a heart but it's gone and now there is a hole
Every painful beat I am paying a new toll
Down in the trash of an empty cold park I stroll
Living has become a mystery the only thing real is my soul
It's dark and cold where I am and he left me I don’t know who is in control
He is not God it was someone else in which was the thief that stole
Standing in a corner I thought you were suppose to be my number one friend
You said you didn’t but at times I believe you did pretend
There is nothing left to buy…for my life has a price thou shall spend
I am ready in which a destiny I can attend
Like a sad song or a sad movie...life doesn’t get better until the end
© Jeremy Fennell
The fragrance of possums is a kit of great virtue bathed and lit by an orange green hue. Display not weapons in weather fuelled skies. Thin thunder is unwelcome in a booming bass rhythm and rhyming slang is only to be used by mice and squirrels on rainy days. So, raise ones tail then and fly to many moons. Always use an angle of sixty-two degrees as cloud beams cause much turbulence to the greatest of wing span. So cease to arrive in long lost kitchens and bathrooms of yesteryear. Instead write in the airwaves a plan to bring justice. Place brassieres' on elephants and negligées in tigers and never fail to sustain the breath of farmlands fir they are breeding grounds for mud. Always be wise to the facts of bridges. Bridges are very intelligent and intelligences can often be said to be artificial sliding doors in a wilderness. Remaining open to eyes in a room and round and round is nice and pleasant. Placing ones aromatic and often erotically placed inner beast if peace to extract a great truth in a light beam. Gradually add ingredients over many many years then serve as soup. Tastefully done. Domestically derived during dripping. Finished with a bowl. Never cried an angelic antelope. Prefer to swirl in ancient field. In honour remain. In desperation a box could jump. Releasing many objects to appease and assist Gaia at this time of great peril. Dig not a pit. Spit not on a tree. Speak not of notes to a very small rodent. As teeth are two faced belts with large bellies. Place a great offering to the silver wishing tree. Yahweh laughs hahahaha. Misted emotions now clear. Windscreen wipers of the mind. Cataclysm of faiths. Duty bound solicitation of souls. In a drip drop haven. Heaping tablespoons of jam at the cardinal buffet is just not acceptable. Many a casserole formed from pumpkins. Many a bean in a pipe. And legs of bacon spread with buttery secretions is very very imaginative and animations of swans dancing in cinemas is often misplaced adjustment setting in remote controlled handsets. Journeys. Jiving. Jalapenos. Jalapa's. Jizzum. Jazz. Justic. Jurisdiction. Jollup. *** cantering. Charismatic. Churches. Chopping choosing chips. *** potency. Fishforks. Placed *** denominations ***
Form:
The wonders of the world,
The clouds barrel into the pools of blue, crashing into golden sunlight streaks piercing through the sky,
A canvas of colour full of shades you cannot clarify,
As it floats by just above the likes of you and I,
Perched on a grand oak tree the birds soulfully sing,
Chirping a conversation, to us its a tweeting tune and the flapping of a wing,
The squirrels soon notice me,
As they scurry away up the Acorn tree, Watching and waiting from a bountiful beautiful branch,
Until it's safe to come thundering down the tree trunk,
To continue filling up their cheeks and arms,
The bunnies bashful and shy bolt for the bushes in the blink of an eye,
Unlike the bold butterflies that flutter brazenly through the skies,
Despite being delicate delights, full of vivid colours brightening up the sky, Just like fire flies burning bright in the nights eye,
The Lakes shimmer glistening in the rays of sunlight,
With a solid stillness that's glass like, Until a single ripples ride causes the surface and dark depths to collide,
We will never behold the secrets the dark depths haven't told,
Up above the geese are gathering getting ready for a good gaggling or perhaps they're giggling,
One things for sure they are certainly chitter chattering
The swans slide in silence paired with pure panache,
They are the Royalty of the water praised, poised and posh,
Ruling with regality and gracility and conduct,
Often looking down their elegant elongated necks,
At the peasant quarrelsome quacking ducks,
With utter distaste and disgust,
Flashes of yellow from Spring daffs sway away,
Dancing in the Whispers of the winds, a beautiful array
Petals from the Violets and bluebells amongst the lavender fields enhance what the emblazon earth's birthed,
The bees buzz in between the Floral display,
The nectar is their nicotine a bouquet buffet,
What wonders our world has to behold from for us to nurture,
The Creator blessed us not only with nature,
But every Acre each creature from the Grand Canyon a magnificent crater, to the Icelandics glistening glacier, everything is a fantastic feature,
We are blessed, to walk amongst the wonders of this world.