Long Chomping Poems
Long Chomping Poems. Below are the most popular long Chomping by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Chomping poems by poem length and keyword.
Meandering my garden one day I was shocked,
to see caterpillars crawling all over my parsley plants,
and as though that was not enough they found my dill too,
and they were not just crawling ... they were chomping away.
Quickly, six caterpillars were eating my parsley,
and were working on my dill plants right beside it,
as I was trying to look up on the internet what to do,
anyways, what happened next was like a mass murder spree.
Now, I do not believe or tolerate violence,
but nature can be cruel and have no conscious,
because mother bird saw those six fat caterpillars,
'cause they were not hiding and she picked one up to fly away.
Coming back over and over and over, and over,
'til not a single caterpillar remained on parsley or dill,
I was somewhat sad, somewhat relieved, sort of shocked,
problem solved, parsley and dill have revived and doing well.
Anyways, although I know they turn into pretty butterflies,
they were creepy green striped worms crawling on my green leaves.
The end.
Such a romantic evening
Both engrossed in watching
A movie in the theatre
Naturally ‘together’
He occupies the aisle seat
Away some 20 feet
She’s on his left extreme
In between
He messages
In response
She blows kisses
Movie over
They head for dinner
Yes, candlelight dinner
Soft music and sound
Perfect background
Sitting across each other
Lost in chewing and chomping
Can’t bother
Sumptuous food
Getting them into the mood
The long awaited date finally on
Her company so captivating
Four hours already gone
She glances at her watch
‘Oh Gosh!’
He asks for the bill
Now notices
She’s dressed to kill
The bill arrives
Dues paid, off they drive
She in her Honda City
He in his dad’s Maruti
Escorting her all the way
Telling himself, ‘What a fabulous day!’
Reaches home
Hears a ping
Her message read-
“Thank you for everything
Wonderful time spent
In this age of social distancing.”
I don't celebrate the pagan holiday of Halloween, but I DID want to write something for Russell's contest, so here is my rather 'unscary' offering.
I stood alone in the pumpkin patch, a child of three,
Searching for one perfectly shaped, but I didn't see
any that I liked to be my Jack-O-Lantern this year.
Then I heard a loud scary noise, and I cringed in fear.
"MOM," I cried! But she whispered, "Hush child. Go back to sleep."
Vines were crawling up my feet. Are they supposed to creep?
"MOM," I screamed. "This spooky old pumpkin has big mean eyes."
But Mom was being pulled down a hole. I heard her cries!
Now it had a mouth full of teeth, all chomping at me!
Closed my eyes and screamed in fright. I'm just a child of three.
I couldn't move, frozen in fear; I was paralyzed...
being eaten by a pumpkin who was demonized!
There'll be no Halloween for me. It's uncivilized!
September 24th, 2017
Russell's Halloween Scare Contest
Did I mislay my bell ringing skull?
Thoughts are out of school
they run into fields of white mice
they multiply - fruitlessly.
Many mock me in front of my other
more head-ridden selves.
Got out of my sleep
with a crowbar and shovel,
mislaid the brain I had yesterday
or was it the day before?
Distant chomping sounds in a rabbit hole.
You can think too much, you can spread yourself
like marmalade over a hundred sticky memories.
Problems appear but only to be unsolved, just
mummified in a facsimile of an afterlife.
I once had a screw-top,
it kept the thinking down to a few finger bones.
Rampant are the curly-tailed nibblers.
All is well, for I dream in the emptiness
of a bell ringing skull,
one placed somewhere else
and far out of sight.
I just had to stare at him when I saw him eating with his fingers. One-by-one he actually picked up his peas and crammed them into his mouth so fast that he hardly had time to chew. After he completely devoured his peas, he went directly to eating his corn-on-the-cob. I couldn't help but notice how he was making such load noises chomping away and sucking on the cob like it was a caramel coated candy apple. Butter and little pieces of corn were stuck to his cheeks and almost entirely covered his face. I don't believe this person had any idea of what a napkin was or what it was used for. Afterwards, still without a hand or face clean, he with his bare hands reached and grabbed a slice of the delicious chocolate cake that was served. I couldn't believe how fast he ate it and immediately grabbed another slice before anyone else could get it. That was the last straw. Finally, I had to speak out and loudly say to him "Are you going to save some for someone else." I think I baffled him because he gave me a look like "Are you kidding me." Without even saying a single word to me, he just shook his head back and forth and picked up his paper plate that had he used for his cake...and completely licked it clean.
It was the cutest thing I have seen in quite some time.
~My one-year-old grandson, Jace :)
Oh, the wonders you’ll see at the zoo!
The colorful creatures that you may review
Once inside you can peek past the fence
And then you’ll be able to finally sense
The curious nature of big roving beasts
Who stare at a group after chomping on feasts
Of flesh from a weaker link in the food chain
While strutting their tails emphasizing their vain
And self centered ways as if you do not matter
For in a heartbeat they could turn you to splatter
Yet oddly enough they are quite entertaining
For all of the tricks that are learned in their training
Upon their arrival they’re already taught
To like their confinement since freedom is naught
Consequentially the animals feel safely kept
Their daily routine of exploits they accept
So worry not for the dear creatures, my friend
They’re happiest when they cannot comprehend
Empowerment comes with some sufferin’ and cryin’
The humans can't reason as well as us lions.
Gordon Ramsay decided to pay a visit to Mel's Diner.
When he criticized Mel's food, Mel gave him a shiner.
Now Mel wears an eyepatch because Ramsay jabbed him in the eye with a fork.
He hated Mel's beef and had to have his stomach pumped when he ate Mel's pork.
Ramsay didn't like the waitresses so he told Mel that they had to go.
After years of faithful service, Mel fired Alice, Vera and Flo.
Flo was so angry that she was chomping at the bit.
She told Mel and Gordon Ramsay to kiss her grits.
Ramsay finally had to give up on Mel because his food is so terrible.
Ramsay's job is to help restaurants but he can't perform miracles.
(This poem was inspired by the 'Alice' TV show.)
Feels like grumpy faces when I close my eyes.
Unflattering flour on an unflattering apron.
Sandpapered down thoughts.
Flies.
Feels like a garden filled with sand, and maybe creaking sounds.
As if there’s a ghost of a swingset.
Sticks in the grass, but some are alive.
Growling, chomping apple pie with teeth.
It’s all grandma’s house,
Weird bugs, sticks coming to life, torn up scarves.
The vases in the closet.
She used to live here by herself.
We had said for years the same pestering stuff.
Even the willow tree snapped at her.
The feeling is as familiar as gravel in her driveway almost flying into my eye.
I think 92 was it.
Feels like her apple pie spattering near my burning feet.
Flies.
The mellowed out wallpaper.
Hair.
It was the night before her 92nd birthday.
I said “92 is coming for you,” in my sleep sometimes.
Would wake up with flour in my eye.
A feeling like apple pie slobbering on me.
Feels like grumpy faces-
Not grandma’s but her childhood friend in my double vision.
She knows what there is, over there in the light…
Flies…
…eating a Juicy Apple Pie handmade by some stranger.
Having soaked up
all her memories
whilst dancing
with the man she loved
So many nights remembered
as their souls soared up above
I complemented her red hair
rich emerald green my hue
designer elegance was I
so many compliments I drew
Throughout the years
much joy and laughter
but now I was feeling discarded
just hanging around in her wardrobe
in deepest
darkest
blackness
The only sounds I ever heard
were fluttering wings of moths
Arriving hungry every night
chomping and chewing
her clothes they did ruin
but from me ~ they did not take a bite
My fate not looking good
from conversations overheard
My swan song was for me to be
inside her coffin ~ just her and me
On entering the furnace
we would soar up to the sky
to the arms of her beloved
dancing to the end of love
Well this had been her plan
Until sweet girl Arabella
her precious granddaughter
now coming of age
One day asked my girl
could she please try me on
Now looking more positive
for my final swan song...
So surprised to be taken
back into the light
She gently unpacked me
to my utter delight
Arabella – her grandchild
was trying me on
in this emerald green dress
she shimmered
she shone
and me
~
this Emerald Green Dress
~
Well
~
I was out to impress…
Written 13th July 2019
after gifting my precious Emerald Green Dress to my granddaughter Arabella
now 18 years of age ~ and so the memories will go on…
Contest 'Brian's Choice X
Sponsor Brian Strand
HONORABLE MENTION
How to describe the color of love? Might you frown in surprise if I spoke of brown? Dull, pockmarked, ocherous brown.
A tarmac of grain, stained the color of earth, that never saw rain.
One humble old table, from an oak that would fall. Who could have known the
moments recalled?
Just a scarred weathered plank, with a warp in the middle. Blight she would hide with a bright checkered cloth. Those who would sit, night after night, greeting with eyes, meeting with ears,... filling the gaps with laughter and tears
Decades were spent, over string beans, and potatoes, bridging the gap of a mid-day mishap, a chat after school, or a new family rule.
Resurrecting a family, at the end of the day, while chomping away on unidentifiable casseroles, that filled the belly, as well as the soul.
Consuming wisdom and noodles, in the comfort of home.
Who would have noticed this shabby antique, wearing wax from Crayolas, white coffee cup rings. Ink spots, and dings. And three winking holes made by father's misdeed!
(His picture-frame project, misjudging the nails! Three slender digits pierced in without fail! Hammered tight, to the top. While mother's shot through the roof!
Who could have ever guessed that a well-worn, weathered old piece of grainy brown oak could be the glorious color of love?
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