Long Cereals Poems
Long Cereals Poems. Below are the most popular long Cereals by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cereals poems by poem length and keyword.
With cavemen like grunts they extract themselves from their pit
Unable to communicate on a level you can understand …
spouting three letter syllables such as ‘IDK’ and ‘meh’
Eyes red from lack of sleep, but what do they care
Too much time playing on their computers and phones
You worry they don’t interact with ‘real’ friends
Your fridge gets raided; milk is glugged and gulped
Cereals and bread disappear at an alarming rate
When you open your cupboards they are bare
The beast then stumbles into the bathroom
When they finally emerge you gag under a cloud of deodorant
Try asking them a question about what time they will be home …
They react as if you are subjecting them to interrogation
This species is not uncommon – many of us have one in our house
TEENAGERS!
Received N/A in a Contest finalised on 04/05/2016
submitted to second chance#3 sponsored by Broken wings
04~03~16
The ballerinas, dressed in pink,
Adorable, you can't help think,
All rush to where their teacher waits,
Where music wafts and resonates.
The grown-ups must remain outside
Where covered windows seem to hide
Whatever lessons might be taught.
(Attempts to peek all come to naught.)
The moms chit-chat, comparing notes,
(Which cereals get all their votes).
The grands and sitters sit alone
And read or focus on the phone.
When class is over, spirits high,
She demonstrates the butterfly
And how to point and flex her toes
While standing in a ballet pose.
Now slippers off and sneakers on;
Another lesson's come and gone.
We dress and take our dancer home,
The star, today, of Nana's poem.
Sugar Sugar everywhere taking it without plants if I dare.
Sugar Sugar make my arteries stiff and crisp, but do I really care?
Just for the record why should I keep giving free advice.
If the music that I make, just does not jive.
Guess you just don't have a case of the hives.
Its a serial crime to sell ce-real to kids.
Whether i boast my quake on oats on a general hill.
Or make kill logs of all the bowels I could have had.
But still these guys keep making me break-fast as an adult.
Let me open the box to see what prize i got.
Ohh look a dead cat which never got me my satisfaction back.
Guess I will just end up paying the price for seeking my prize.
Can we truly see what's real without cereals?
The shock that I felt was enormous,
as the tab on the cat food I pulled,
a fountain of biscuits shot out of the top-
the box, it was actually full !
I stood, disbelieving, bewildered,
this never had happened before,
I finally came to my senses again
and swept all the bits off the floor.
'Contents are liable to settle',
I've seen it on loads of foodstuffs,
in some cereals, where half of it is fresh air
and what's left is just not quite enough.
And bags of crisps, don't get me started,
whatever the flavour or range,
seven flakes, powdered crumbs
which just coat both your thumbs
and then leave your tongue feeling short-changed.
Forgive me, for always believing
(and I think most folks do, by and large)
that the air we breathe in now and always has been
since the dawn of mankind, free of charge.
So why do the makers of products
include something already free?
Just give us lots more of the thing I paid for
and leave all the breathing to me.
And when my time one day is over
and no longer am in fine fettle,
the box I'm carried off in,
on the lid of the coffin
write ' contents are liable to settle'.
Solider of fortune are responsible to provide the real stability to pakistan among all nations of the world.
your unity,faith and discipline are real means of your glory in war.
your Prostration to Allah AlMighty five times in a day gives you strong powers to win wars.
Solider of fortune is a man of patriotism,a man of dignity,a man of diplomacy,a man of disciplined, a man of dedication,a man of devotion,in total he is a man of distinction.
The death of Martyr is the real life of nation.And the blood of Martyr is the real charity of alive nations.
you are such a fast Cavalier who is loyal to his own Pakistani nation & loved by his own beloved country people.
you are light of vision to each & every eye and you hold the spirit of every pious person.
You give real survival and respect to our religion islam.
You give safe,secure and stable environment to the whole world by your own well cultured devoted down to earth personality.
Charity received through super power countries increase our affluence level only.
But if we grow our own country crops of cereals.so it will verdant and beautify our environment.
Means if we belief on our own resources,or our own young future generation,they themselves work hard with full confidence then we easily achieve our future goals.
So we donot need of charity from outside.we will able to achieve our required future targets by working with our own limited resources.
If we donot do Bargaining of our self respect & Venality at any case even infront of our real enemies.
Then the barren land of our own beloved country pakistan turn to become Oasis & overseas.
It means We will enjoy the benefit of each & every facility with in our own pakistan.
By Aliza Kashmala Kiran.
https://youtu.be/dXiPoIwR93I
My Darn Musisk
She wanted her family to
have food throughout the month.
She said often we run out: but feel there is something I can do to help remedy the problem She Knew that substituting meat could help stretch out the meals.
She took consideration into effect. She knew she could get some cornmeal, dreid veggie, onions garlic and liquid smoke to flavor a doughy ground meat concoction that was flavorful enough to be filling and enjoyable.adding the right amount of pork fat, dehydrated veggies, spices and cereals and dough. Making a scrapple like sausage that tasted great and was something that could make 15 pounds of scrapped pork and 15 pounds of dehydrated veggies into a 75 pound of flavor and savoriness.
She embarked on her journey first by making veggie and pork and beef stock.
She made pork into jerky like steaks and grounded them and mixed them into dehydrated veggies and garlic and onions. They grounded the pork into and almost puree. they made corn mush cooked. and made a wheat dough. with milk and flour. the course ground meat was mixed with the mixing cooked grains into the doughy wheat mixture
adding yeast . Mixing cornmush and dehydrated veggies. mixing coursely ground meat with pureed meat.
adding spiced and veggies.
mixing and tasting.
she found that dry milk and eeg powder could help create a desired flavor. the mixture is tasted and cooked and then to be put into sausage castings.
"She boiled my wheat mixd with meat and dried the veggies crisp. tasted and tasted, smell spices, grounded and ground and mixed and mixed She stuffed casing with this stuff cooked it up and feed it to her kids. They smiled and smiled one complained wondering what this is."
" he built a treated frame, and stuffed it with straw right out the feilds. Ole Bouis told him Call that man to make my walls out of
that sprayed kinda cement.
Said they stacked the travails tween the bems
and cover them with chixwire. call that man to spray the walls
to coat and thicken as we desire.
I'm fixing to cover mine with some course ed treated wood.
That put on them fancy thangs. Make it look real pretty and to look good..
Moretell Deverell Quesnell Sumrell Portell McPhall.McGrail and Marcell to get the sheaves ah fixing."
Amidst the vast fertile lands
the little huts of the people stood,
Hoarding the millets from the field
To their feathery friends, they offered their yield
Savouring the millets and cereals
And sitting on the ceiling of corridors,
Making their nest close to the doors
Chirping throughout the day and night
They made our ancestors' days bright
Mingled like real joyful dudes
They even shared people's food
Wandering around with their family
They welcomed our guests warmly
They never felt shy , they never did cry
They never ever worried
But that's an old story
When the huts became royal flats,
When the fertile lands became empty plots
These little birds found no place to halt
they flew away, granting us, the feelings of guilt
But now, when people savvy their worth
Sweet sparrows, decide to reappear
Their comeback slams the extinction-myths
Their comeback cheers the earth
Reemerged our cute little friends
Is not it our onus to make their population ascend
Return their place to them
We will embrace peace then
We'd made a dawn start that day, following in his footsteps, as
apparently Jesus used to get up early.
Our group had gathered for a reading, and to pray, along with
fruit and cereals our first staples of the day.
The good Lord had gifted us a painted morning of Coeruleum blue,
and a warm spiced breeze flossed my smile.
I turned and watched the city for a while.
Amidst the pink and beige jigsaw of the old city, the Dome of the rock
had caught the morning rays and was now bragging about it,
shamelessly blinging,
competing with the shouts of Minarets
and Church bells ringing.
Few things can compete with an Israel morning, but you did.
Perched like an Owl on a low wall, cross-legged, your head moved
from side to side, scanning the mount, sharing our glass,
drinking the moment.
You wore white cotton, an arm hung with beads, an evil eye bracelet
and what looked like a Kara, glistening.
Styled by the Gods, with three quarters of a straw hat
wedged in the bricks.
And then I found myself before you,
Lord knows how, and I was trying to remember how my mouth worked.
Your head cocked to one side you watched me for a while
then nodded me a soft hello, and finished with a smile.
Ice broken, we gathered intelligence- you, a 'gap year Guerilla'
on a global reconnaissance , armed with just a shoulder bag and a credit card.
Me, a lapsed Catholic with an empty soul, seeking a childhood faith long discarded.
A shout from the tour guide burst our intimate bubble and I retreated,
backwards, gesturing, as if in the presence of a Shah.
She waved back, almost lost her balance, and a gust of wind would
have placed her gently among the sleeping of the Kidron
if she hadn't grabbed her hat.
And that was that.
I went back to the wall that evening, and the following morning,
I don't know why- she'd be bathed in the rose of Petra by then.
For a short time I was bereft, and stood, fittingly, before the
Basilica of the Agony, and then sat on our wall,
to watch the chosen wake up.
I think my soul woke a little, just then.
For God had left me with a little bit of love.
Unrequited, but worth hanging on to ,
worth building on.
It's been thirty five years, and in those occasional quiet places
I still think of you
For contest 'Love in a far off place', sponsored by Frank Herrera
22nd July 2015
“Children, obey your parents in the Lord: for this is right.”
Thus declared Ephesians 6:1 of the Holy Scriptures…
I confess that I’m guilty of juvenile stubbornness
With my naughty quirks I can’t deny
…Now somehow revealed by my kids.
As to table manners, there was I feasting too long…
Or I could be oblivious of Mother’s counsel for healthy breakfast
I would share with and even give all my milk to the cat
Then drowned my unfinished meal into the sink
So as not to be late for the class.
“Be honest!”* That was asserted with faith in our home.
Yet, I would often barter my sandwich with my seatmate’s candies
When Mom asked how the jam tasted, I said, “cheese, ok!”
Sometimes, I would sell our store-cereals to have “own money”
Then boast of a cash-prize when inquired of the source.
With “Cleanliness is next to godliness” policy
I was taught to practice good hygiene…
But when indolence got the better of me
Brushing teeth would be postponed
Often, cologne bathing was at work.
Remembering those quirks amuses me…
I’m grateful to God for my blessed childhood!
*2Corinthians 8:21 Providing for honest things, not only in the sight of the Lord, but also in the sight of men.
December 10, 2018
6th place, "Secret" Free Verse Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Faraz Ajmal; judged on 12/29/2018.
Dam you bastards with water; I think you all are coots
While I watch the weather everyday and plead for rain filled fronts
I’m not some greedy bastard, which wants to grow more grass
I need my stock to have a drink, and save their thirsty ****
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not some greenie, with an axe to grind
In many areas our futures, are unbelievably intertwined
But for god sake, sit back and think, just how lucky that you are
Because all that water that you waste, well some comes from my jar.
I can’t but help, smile a wry grin, when the irrigation stops
As the whinging starts, about the loss in cash, as profit production drops
Your stock still have water, to pour straight down their throats
Water troughs filled to the brim, not erectile dysfunction floats
I see your places from the hill, circles of dark green crops and grass
Metal robots, pissing water, creatures born of greed; I have to sigh alas
There’s more to farming than factory farms and copious quantities of water
Deciding on paper, which animals must go, on the truck to slaughter.
So please forgive me when I wish on you, pestilence and misery
May your cereals wilt, stock get the shits, and your profits become history
I’m not some greedy bastard, of extra dry matter I have no need
If my stock just had clean water to drink, from my anxiety I’d be freed