Long Dined Poems
Long Dined Poems. Below are the most popular long Dined by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dined poems by poem length and keyword.
Once upon a time...
Once upon a time, in France, a storyteller fella
Wrote of a girl named Cinderella,
Meant as a fairy tale romance.
Her daddy died when she was young, and she was forced to share his riches
With three monumental b****es,
A most unhappy circumstance.
For years her stepmom and stepsibs made her perform a menial's duty,
And as she blossomed into beauty,
They grew more hateful, mean, and cruel.
Each night they dined on fine cuisine and wore lace dresses with silk sashes,
While she wore rags begrimed with ashes,
And got just crusts of bread and gruel.
Then one day a herald from the king demanded entry
To the homes of landed gentry,
They were invited one and all.
It was the prince's eighteenth birthday, and the king and queen were harried
Because their son was not yet married.
Ergo, the reason for the ball.
The stepsisters primped and preened and wild excitement they exuded,
When Cindy asked to be included, they gaped at her as if appalled.
Stepmother sneered, "Look here, I'll show you!"
With self-righteous indignation,
"Your name's not on the invitation.
Just we elite are so installed."
So Cinderella went downstairs to seek some solace in the kitchen,
But 'stead of sittin' there and b****in', she started dancing with a broom.
She whirled and twirled around the floor,
Or else she'd stand there, gently swaying,
As if an orchestra was playing
Pretending they were bride and groom.
And then a flash, a crash of thunder, and to Cindy's stunned amazement,
There gliding through the kitchen casement,
A pudgy lady dressed in blue.
She said, "Hello, my dear, no fear, I'm here to grant your secret wishes,
I'll wave my wand and clear the dishes,
And make a princess out of you!"
She waved and tapped and flicked and zapped,
And what she seemed to make the air do
Was give her make-up, nails, and hair-do,
And then to make the look complete,
Out of those rags so soiled and worn and far too torn to drown a cat in,
A gown of gossamer and satin, and crystal slippers on her feet.
Without this timely intervention, Cindy's tale might have been tragic.
Could she have managed without magic,
And her dilemma be resolved?
But everybody knows what happened with a gourd and six white mice,
And how a smudgy scullery maid was made to clean up really nice,
When a fairy got involved.
To be continued...
He fell one stormy midnight clear,
His feet upon his head,
He deaf of mouth and blind of ear,
All purple, green and red.
He dined politely on a rose,
Then with a speckled hen,
He quickly drew himself a nose,
And put it on again.
He paid the hen all shiny pound,
Then gave his ear a flick,
A tiny thought leapt to the ground,
And scurried up a stick.
"Hello there little sky-fall man,
A bildog, blain and ned.
I live inside your gumble mind,
That's right, inside your head".
"My name is wonder where and how
And who and what and why,
And what you're wondering right now?
How fell you from the sky?"
Down trouble eye our little man
Shed single Silver tear,
As off to forge some further plan,
Thought flew back down his ear.
So down he stood and set he off
To answer up his quest,
His head puffed out, his feet aloft
And walking on his chest.
He walked through woods where gilbroks played
Upon the purple moss,
With trees all trunked of plasticine
And leaved with candy floss.
For three long days but not so long
He walked on through the wood,
Until he heard a silver song
that tickled 'neath his hood.
The song it came from purple rock
Amid the Numbum trees,
Upon the rock, the Dandy-dock
Sat singing to the bees.
"All hail the Dandy," our friend cried
Before the purple stone,
"Hello there!" Dandy-dock replied
"My haven't how you've grown!"
"I am afraid I cannot help"
The Dandy softly groaned,
"You must search out the Bollynelp
Near the lake of Sollynoad"
So off he trekked to find the stream
That led out to the lake,
Across the lands of pink ice-cream
And plains of chocolate cake.
The stream ran on and skipped and played,
And sang it's tales of old,
But in the lake the waters stayed,
All tinged with green and gold.
High in a tree beside the shore
The Bollynelp sat chatting,
He talked a little then some more
Of chalk and cheese and matting.
"I'm sorry," called this strange old bird
To our hero down below,
"A quest like yours I've never heard
But the Dumble dog will know"
"The Dumble dog I'm sure you'll see
Upon that distant beach
Where our fine land does cease to be
And the jelly ocean's reach"
He thanked the Bolly with a sigh
And turned towards the shore,
And off he walked, still feet held high,
And chest upon the floor.
You read the title correctly,
I realize that everyone's entitled to their own opinion
But, please read the entire story before you decide
Yes, I fell in love with a one eyed Minion
Like most of you I really enjoyed Despicable Me
and in it there was this one little guy
a bit shorter in stature, hair parted in the middle
Deep sigh. love at first sight with a Minion with one eye
His name was Stuart, and he was so playful and intelligent
I knew I was smitten, but alas he wasn't real
And although I could say the same about some humans...
I could not show this Minion fellow how I really feel
Wishful thinking flooded my mind
as I curled up in a comfortable chair, tired, but not sleepy
Next thing I know I appeared to be computer animated...
yet three dimensional...and yes I'll admit, it was a bit creepy
And there they were, a pack of Minions in the park
surging forward as one, looking for another leader
Then I saw Stuart nudge Bob and say, "That's her!
That's the babe that was checking me out in the theater!"
I was surprised that his speech lacked that familiar Minion dialect...
Stuart stood on a bench, and gave me the sweetest little kiss
He said, "I have noticed you in the movies, dozens
of times, but never thought I'd see you like this!"
Initially embarrassed that he knew I've watched him so often
the shame subsided as I spent the day at his place
We dined on banana flambe...and drank frothy banana shakes
Afterwards he serenaded me with a ukulele, with such style and grace
After dark, we took a stroll back to the park
Laying in the grass, I couldn't decide which shined more bright
the stars in the sky, or the twinkling in his eye
How I wished it could be this way every night
Stuart told me he thought humans were a glorious species
and that he loved me with all his heart
if it weren't for our differences in composition
we would never ever be apart
Then the sky and the ground began to buckle
All at once I was taken completely unaware
Instead of snuggling on the grass
I was reclining on that comfortable chair
I haven't seen him that way since,
I guess blu ray or dvd will just have to do
Although I miss him terribly, at least we had that one delightful day
Yes, I fell in love with a one eyed Minion, you do believe me..don't you?
2/25/16
I sauntered in an evening mist
A midnight's heaven, magic-kissed
Lamp-lit raindrops pattered, awesome
Shining city turned violet blossom
Enchantments I could ne'er resist.
Adrift upon the Paris, proper
Wandered I, a Yankee pauper
Until a Latin damsel's ride
Paused, as she pulled me inside
(Not that I had mind to stop her).
Away, into another world
She and I were thusly hurled
A night of excess, spinning fast
Absinthe sweetened our repast
As did lips, and tresses, curled.
Club-to-club we smartly hopped
More green nectar if we flopped
Pushing tenders to their rations
Just to fuel our backseat passions
On-and-onward, 'til we dropped.
All seems dream now, in my mind
Still, I'd swear that when we dined
Famous folks from ages hence
Were with us for our merriments
And all the mischief we could find.
The best of writers in their day
Zelda, F. Scott and Hemingway
Gertrude Stein and Porter, Cole
Pined, polemic, from their soul
Life and love, the friendly fray.
No discourse was too far-fetched
Others, too, who talked and sketched
Pablo Picasso and Gauguin, Paul
Dali and Man Ray, surrealists all
On, the wilding hours stretched.
Ever poured the emerald potion
Crazy cogs in constant motion
Clouding, thick, the mental fog
Far beyond the hair-of-dog
Glasses raised for every notion.
Thus it passed 'til all went black
Awaking days hence in my sack
Believing now that all these things
Were just a night's meanderings
Or the ramblings of a maniac.
I set my mind to purge it all
Grabbed my phone to make a call
Then spotted on my bed, a note
Within the pocket of my coat
So I crumpled it into a ball.
You see, I recognized the write
I'd seen it on that misty night
When, with absinthe, we'd our fill
And Hemingway had signed the bill.
So I sauntered off into the night ...
Too scared to find out ... if I was right.
* FOURTH PLACE in the "Dreams" Poetry Contest, Nayda Ivette Negron, Sponsor. *
Josh’s drinking days were long behind him. The three beers he drank before ordering his meal; the two beers he drank during his meal; and, the two Bailey’s he consumed after his meal had taken their effect on the middle-aged man. He talked incessantly to the bartenders, bothered the two young ladies who sat at the bar a few stools away and staggered back and forth to the men’s room a dozen times.
Finally, reluctantly, after many hours had passed, Josh paid his tab, leaving a generous, alcohol influenced tip and wobbled out the door. Not sure which direction to go to return to his hotel, Josh simply started off down the street, still thinking about his wife.
How much time passed is unclear, but he was many blocks away when he suddenly realized he was not wearing his fedora. Josh did an about-face and tried to retrace his steps to the bar and bar stool where he knew his hit sat waiting for him. Josh walked into and out of a number of bars he mistook for the one he dined in. Although he was fooled by the outside facades, once he stepped in, he knew it was the wrong bar.
When Josh finally stumbled upon the bar that he recognized as the one he had dined in, it was closed and the doors were locked. It was 3:00 am.
Tears came to Josh’s eyes. Josh felt as if losing the hat his wife had given him was a harbinger of the end and he was not ready to reach that point. Josh simply had to retrieve that hat. He had to get his wife back. Somewhere, deep down in his drunken soul, Josh mustered up the strength to lift the city trash can from the corner of the street and smash it through the large glass window in front of the bar – he was oblivious to the alarms that started blaring.
Josh managed to crawl into the bar through the broken window unaware of the glass shards cutting his wrists, stomach and throat. The moister from the blood simply mixed with the moister from his sweat. The numbness and anesthetic nature of the abundance of alcohol he was not used to masked the extent of his injuries.
When the police arrived on the scene, Josh was found in the darkness, clutching his fedora at the foot of the stool where he had eaten his dinner.
Josh’s wife received the phone call later that morning announcing his passing.
He was buried with the fedora.
"Lost in the world’s most “progressive” nation For sacrificing her spouse in World War II Annie received little compensation"- Disposable Wisdom by Carolyn Devonshire
I stood aghast as I looked more than ONCE.
The number seemed a very large BUNCH.
Drawn by this poem, I could not REFUSE.
It was unusual to see that many VIEWS,
a number so far ahead of any I had seen.
The number 26131 was the number of views for
the poem, Disposable Wisdom, posted 12 years ago
in 2009. I stood amazed and could not hesitate reading IT.
It was a most telling and sad poem, more than a little BIT.
It was about a widow whose husband was killed in World War TWO.
She reminded me of a man I once knew whose name was Harry. So I believed the story about the widow to be TRUE. It's clear that Lesley was disconnected from the world, but sadly no one seemed to connect with the widow nor CARED for any wisdom she might have SHARED, leaving her alone to grieve.
She ate cat food as she dined with her cat Tibby, who also PRECEDED her in death, vanishing all that was left of a HOME and leaving her even more ALONE. It seemed she was never NEEDED. I was deeply moved by the poem, and after reading it, I understood the #26,131.
I never knew Carolyn Devonshire, but I felt her heartbeat as I read those lines. I understood her, and how myself and all the others were overwhelmed and sadden by this human TRAGEDY, this TRAVESTY of human dignity and kindness toward one whose husband gave the ultimate sacrifice. Moreover, like Carolyn, I understood so much less of why a prosperous and proud nation like my own would allow a soldier's widow to die in POVERTY and all alone.
I'm grateful that Carolyn shared this poem. Carolyn departed from among us a short while ago, but has left us a treasure of beauty and power in her work.
081321PS
OK another adventure in the mad poet’s life,
This occurred just before I met Jane, my imaginary wife.
Jane’s brother, Glen had set me up with a blind date
He said the girl was a stunner, I could not wait
So dressed in me stripe trouser with me chequer tank top vest
I oiled me baldhead and let the old spice do the rest
Off I went down town to meet Deglet Noor (that was her name)
Glen said, “If you see her lips you’ll want to kiss them more and more.”
Then I saw her, and dam what a blind date
She was lumpy like custard with an all eye seeing Rottweiler that made me fearfully
hesitate.
She looked like a bulldog chewing on a bee
And the Rotter was eyeing me leg as if it wanted to hump me
I thought to myself, give the girl a meal
Then we call it a day and that was the deal
She chose this uptown place where rich people dined
A French restaurant with snails and frogs legs, you know the funny kind
I had a steak, she had prawns and a lobster too
And she persuaded me by force to drink champagne form her trainer shoe
When she ate poor lobster it was a terrible gore
I wish she could have taken a tip from Sir Robert Hinshaw
When we finished the waiter brought the bill and waited for me to pay
£1500 bloody pounds, my bowels almost gave way
I said to him “We not finished yet. Could we have Ice cream and coffee?”
And I said “Oh and don’t forget the mint toffee”
Me credit card was on strike and would not handle that amount
It was time for me to exit time to get out
So when the waiter had gone I told her I was going to the loo
Said to her I needed to off load a number two
In a terrible panic I managed to squeeze through the window, hitting the deck
I punched the air shouting “Yes!” followed by an “Oh F-ck” and “What the Heck”
I had fallen into the kitchen and not outside you see
The head chef said “We built it this way to stop people like you stealing from me”
Five weeks on and 100000 dishes later,
If I stayed any longer I’m sure I would have been promoted to head waiter
Nevertheless, If you do come across Glen give me a shout
Tell him the mad poet is looking to blow his brains out
**For my sweet Delysia Hendricks who asked me to write this poem**
**Deglet Noor is a date that you eat if you didn't know**
I saw him daily while I was walking He wore a blue uniform with white cap Held a green flag and flagged before a motel
That was on the busy national highway
He looked an umpire who signalled for parking I loved his actions and he was active. Rarely he smiled at me when I was walking I noticed him many times in the peak hours.
He tried to stop the vehicles near the motel Many of them stopped and dined there He saluted the guests and waited for rewards Some of them gave him tips and it was his wage
Again he saluted and it was his routine duty I had COVID so I took rest for a week After I became normal,I went for walking The man was not found for two days
Third day I saw a new man in his place I approached and enquired about the old man
The new man replied that Corona had killed him
Alas, what a poor old man he was!
Homeward Bound
Land of mango and avocado
Sweet , mild and refreshing
Cassava bread with tea, coffee and hot cocoa
Fresh meaty young coconut
It’s water crisp and refreshing
Glazed peanut, cashew and coconut for a quick snack or dessert
Spaghetti with herring or hot dog for breakfast
Large tart grapefruit topped with sugar crystals and eaten with a metal spoon
Killed a butterfly
Folded it in half
Pressed against its wings
It fell apart
Grandma chased me with a bowl of medicine
A liquified leafy concussion
To clean my insides out
Stepped on a ball of thorn
My foot slowed me down
And the neighborhood kids caught me for grandma
Was stung by a bee in the belly button
Crossed rivers barefoot
Watched black crab crawl across a small body of water
And tiny fish swam in a little pond
Skinny and gray were they
My cousins and I rolled handkerchiefs into figures
We got in trouble together, too
A long walk on foot
Left us late for school
Once late , on our knees we were preyed Hot and sticky was our whip
Lashed were our backs
At bath time , mama saw my back
red and black with strikes
Left furious ,
Angry and out of breath ,she advised my teacher and school masters
That I am but a child
And not an animal in the wild
Another time, I was struck by a bull on my way to school
A big, black bull tied to a tree , loosened itself free and charged at me
With its horns it grabbed my frail little frame in between mama and great uncle
I was tossed
I opened my eyes and was at the hospital
My great uncle rode a motorcycle and dined with me and grandma
He gave me a large slice of avocado to eat with my plantain and sauce
The blacked out city
Was lost in the dark
On the countryside moon is streetlight
On roof tops made of aluminum
Boys flew kites
Plastic bags and spare tree branches
they combined
Spun tops are made with lime and pick
A bucket of rain to bathe
A black hole in the ground
For feces
Clothes washed in the river
Line dried outside the house
Some bathe
Some bring donkey to graze
Its dung fall in between the waves
Some to wash their tresses
Like my godmother did to mine
Marckincia Jean
Narrative
07/13/19
Ugly son, ugly son;
lashed out by everyone.
His mother's grey hair turned white
loving him.
He has travelled around the world.
His father wallowed in pain,
as he walked away into the plane,
they drove back home leaving him
to now lonely home without,
the ugly son.
Ugly son, ugly son;
watching back and forth in time
was hurt in every joint and bone.
fire did not melt ice,
love could not find home.
Ugly son, ugly son;
laughed at by everyone.
His mother's grey hair turned white
loving him.
He spoke in the tongue not his nor mine.
His father swallowed the pride,
as the world's lessons cruelly wise.
That night he dined alone with his wife
at the now lonely home without,
the ugly son.
Ugly son, ugly son;
moving to and fro in space
was bleeding from his nose and eyes.
skies did not cry tears,
rage would not move rocks.
Ugly son, ugly son;
mocked by everyone.
His mother's grey hair turned white
loving him.
He looked inside and out for knowing.
His father ruminated in memories,
as his journey too had too many battles.
They slept in their beds in tears
in the now lonely home without,
the ugly son.
Ugly son, ugly son;
gazed at his world and others'
was blinded by his convictions.
rivers did not wash away sins,
wishing would not shoot the stars down.
Ugly son, ugly son;
ignored by everyone.
His mother's grey hair turned white
loving him.
He prayed to his many gods and others.
His father laboured in grief,
as tales of the world worried him all night.
They talked all night of their lost sons
in the now lonely home without,
the ugly son.
Ugly son, ugly son;
gambled heart and thought for company,
was sore in his heart and feet.
earthquakes did not swallow his pain,
whispering would not fulfil the passions.
Ugly son, ugly son;
pushed around by everyone.
His mother's grey hair turned white
loving him.
He taught himself to dance and to fight.
His father slumbered in sorrow,
as fears of his sons fate had him tired.
They left home the day following,
from the now lonely home without,
the ugly son.
Ugly son, ugly son;
drank poison to make forget,
was tired in his body and mind.
wind did not drift his fate,
sorrow would not set the blood moon.