Long Dining Poems
Long Dining Poems. Below are the most popular long Dining by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dining poems by poem length and keyword.
I am reporting from Normandy,
where a cheese war has started
between two hospitality business tycoons,
for acquiring the ownership of a shipload
of Brie and Comembert soft and creamy cheese,
heavily consumed popularly in their two outlets,
Wine and Cheese Tavern and Charcuterue Shack.
As the cheese ship arrived,
the owners of these dining holes tried
to negotiate the price with the Captain, but failed,
for both the parties offered increasing competitive bids.
So, the indecisive Captain suggested
they fight out the possession issue
in the cheese war, going on now for two months,
and seems not to end, for no one is winning.
The eventual owner might be getting
a shipload of rotten French delicacy.
The tree is still there,
Gushing wind touching the leaves
With a murmuring sound.
I see the tree every day, outside my window
When eyes get tired and tired mind seeks relief.
There is an oak tree, just outside the window of the dining area
I see a lot of squirrels hopping on the branches, happy and active.
The tree is still there,
Under the clear blue sky as a generous gift
I wish I could be there yesterday.
To see a lonely tree, standing there, alone.
As it seems, there is nothing left to be done.
And I kissed my boy in his dream, kissed his face in his sleep
I had an oath made to the tree, I will make it up, before I see the ending, again.
A former Oiler once said
Staying out of debt
Give up being a bum
Fill up my son
Call yourself a titan
And go do some fighting
Years then passed
While pumping gas
This entrepreneur realized
There has been one too many lies
Staring down the Giant model making Ford
Letting out a Lion’s roar
“I am a Texan
It is time I start checking
I wear the red, white and blue
What are you going to do?”
Later on a lone star
Was sitting outside in the car
Having DC red skin
Due to the twins
They do not look alike
And someone gave one a mike
Keeping an eyeball on them
Waiting for the word ‘when’
After the family meal
It was the deal
A lone star imprinted on center stage
Relieving everyone from the dining table cage
There was a plan to capture the scalp
From the lone star who was knocked out
“How dare the twins
In all their wins
Not look the same
Playing their game fore fortune and fame”
Mumbled the lone star in a dream
Allowing everyone in the room to scream
“What a hairy situation this was
But we all know being a lone star you needed the buzz”
As the moon started to rise
And sun disappeared from the sky
Death was flying in the air
When the steel curtain decided to open the stage affair
Edgar had his reason to use his de Penn
While having one last left over dessert in the den
Giving all his heart to the night time entertaining start
Understanding the pendulum in the pit was made of metal
And issues had to be settled
This left old Edgar a reason to mettle
Before putting some more in his cryptic kettle
Since the Texan lone star twins were no longer there
It was time a poet writes a scare
Acting like a crow
This drunken Poe
Without a mate
And a date
He started tweeting
Keeping the holiay season pulse beating
“Day of thanks is almost done
And festive time has come
Gothic autumn classics
Have turned their leaves over to shopping plastics
But it is not what you give
It is how you live
I will give it now over to Mr. Dickens
Whose words are still ticken
Go forth in artistic ways
We will all pray
When the Saints play
In the French Quarter on Christmas Day”
Riverboat on the Mississippi
Folks dining on scrimp, grits, and cornbread
Drinking booze and gambling like crazy
Going to Bourbon Street just ahead
Down in that Cajun Queen, New Orleans
The big paddle wheel keeps on rolling
Down to the Cajun Queen of the Gulf
Where the real money is unfolding
And a thousand green bucks is small stuff
Down in that Cajun Queen, New Orleans
The big paddle wheel keeps on churning
Black coal keeps that steam boiler humming
Noxious fumes from the smokestack blowing
Nightlife on Bourbon Street is jumping
Down in that Cajun Queen, New Orleans
Cathedral spires standing very tall
Off Canal, near downtown Bourbon Street
Near a hotel by a shopping mall
Where folk are getting some daytime sleep
Down in that Cajun Queen, New Orleans
They wait for night, ‘til just after dark,
To find the places of blues, jazz, and rap
A swamp of raunchy acts, joints, and bars
Folk can get caught like mice in a trap
Down in that Cajun Queen, New Orleans
Late last night, home, sitting by myself...
The house quiet with only the ticks from the clock to be heard
Starring at nothing, into space...stuck
Suddenly, from the corner of my eye...
A picture of me and my family that rests upon the bookshelf...captures me
Mom, dad, myself, and all of my other six siblings...
Gathered around the dining room table, laughing, enjoying ourselves...
Having fun while we celebrate our Christmas dinner.
It brought back some great memories...as I sat thinking to myself
My dad, his face, looking so proud and joyful.
My mom, well, she was mom...
The beautiful loving soul that she always was....
Smiling, looking about with pure love in her eyes
Me, I was young...I was also oblivious
Oblivious of the fact, that one day in my late fifties...
I would looking at this old photo teary-eyed and saying to myself...
Ahh...the good ole days
A child's home
Running in the courtyard
when sun is at its peak,
Harsh voice of grandpa
as he would sneak,
Long hours with friends
as play doesn't tire,
Books don't fascinate
and mother spits fire,
For watering of the garden
we are in a queue,
Hand pump crackles
with a rusty hue,
Dining room fragrance
as mother cooks my fav,
Jealous are others
favouritism is nothing new,
Oh the bedroom I share
with my bro and sis,
Cartoon time please spare
TV remote I crave,
Sound of train passing by
as window panes rattle,
In sleep I travel afar
to return to wake up alarm,
Who likes to leave early
for lessons at school,
No time for splashes
that I cherish in the pool,
Recall the greater aplomb
in my childhood home,
No worries, no enmity
purity at heart, integrity,
Memories chase dreams
in morning screams,
When croaks the raven,
child's home is a heaven!
Written Sept 22nd, 2015
For Verlena's contest
Awarded 1st place win
Each word supported the other
there individual effords supported
the structural placing of this
Invisible concept.
When words were papered,
It read like a rambling of
Untamed words.
This venture was uncharted
I wanted to give these men
Fictious names to create
A way to describe what my
More ND saw your them doing
There work was hard and tediuos
In what they spoke I was confused
But one quote by "They Mein" caused
Me to stop and think .
Looking around I found myself in the way
So I left.
In the kitchen they spoke there
Language and did there work
One overseeing the other so
There labors would appeaze
Those who were to be dining.
The meal. Of the day was
Hericuim Erinaaceus and
Cajun oreilles de porc with
Mango and cayeene
He sauteed
3 cups of shredded cabbage
1 cup of onion
1 cup of green pepper
1/2 cup of carrots
1 cup of diced apples
In 3/4. Cups of olive oil
When the cabbage begun
To wilt he added
5 cups of sliced pigears (cooked)
The sauce comprised of
2 cups of tomato paste
4 Tablespoons of strawberry basil crown royal
1/4 cup of vinager
1/4 cup of fishstock
1/4 cup of lemon juice
1/4 cup of of honey
1 cup of pureed mango
4 T spoons of cayeene
The festival is centered around
The praises of the solar pump
Which moves water from
Wells, springs, ditches, and ponds.
The submersible motor drives
The pump to push water against
Gravity to the surface.
A bad acter might lose his concern
But he paints the picture
He includes facts to support his
Involvment and speaks to the value
Of his concerns. It helps to reduce
the risks, and keeps him focused
to his objectives. If you doubt my
Sincerity, might I mention you would
Have what you needed, if I wanted
you to have it. Beg me like you begged
your fiancee to marry you, let me tire
of your peasent like ways!
From across the park I see the house,
Open windows spilling pools of light
Onto the wide wraparound porch.
As I walk nearer, I take a look inside.
On the walls, framed paintings
And a cluster of family photographs,
Over-stuffed furniture, a little worn,
Sleepy dog on a towel on the chair.
Through the side window I see
Shelves crammed with stacks of books,
A daybed, cluttered desk with a computer,
Drawing table, a rack of supplies.
Candles on the dining room table,
Mahogany and glass china closet,
Old fashioned sideboard with
A slightly tarnished silver tea service.
Upstairs, lights glow behind shades,
But in the kitchen a cheery brightness!
Someone moving, talking, carrying a plate
And laughing at some unknown joke!
What sort of people live in this house?
I think I know - comfortable, unpretentious
People, real, who live and love and care.
Heart full, I tread the steps up to my porch!
The passengers set sail in the sun
Roaming the decks and dining inside
And there was joy in every single heart
Gliding out into the ocean and cold waters
Everything was new and never used before
Doom embraced the ship when it hit an iceberg
Years ago, a catastrophe still heartbreaking to fathom
___________________
September 7, 2021
Poetry/Acorstic/Tragedy
Copyright Protected, ID 09-1387-228-07
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, Message In An Acrostic 2
sponsor, Kim Rodrigues, Judged 09/17/2021
Darkness has pressed up against our lattice windows. Classes start again in the morning. I’m being reabsorbed by college life. I’m a planner. I’ve been going over my syllabuses, repacking my bookbag, charging my power banks, checking and rechecking the assignments due tomorrow. After watching me prep for hours, Peter said, “You’re not going to the MOON.”
Peter asked me last Friday, “Are you excited for Monday? (I’ll find out if I get my fellowship.)
“I’m more excited about tonight,” I said, “I like going out on the town.”
“Wow,” he said, “you’re so different - not like the other girls at all.”
“No!” I said, laughing, “We’re stuck in a rut, we only go to one or two places, ever - if we go out at all. When people come to New Haven, I need places to take them - places besides pizza. At home, in Athens, I know twenty places - this is RESEARCH.” I assured him.
Peter settled back into his doctorate-fraternity-house yesterday. Tonight (Sunday), there’s music in the suite, the crazy noises of people and the comfort of returned friends. All the roommates are back, greeted with hugs and kisses, as they dragged in their luggage.
Lisa arrived with dinner, for 10, from Dominick's, in Manhattan. Spaghetti, salads, rolls, extra sauce - in six, small, suitcase-sized insulated bags. It was a logistical marvel. It’s only 90 minutes from Manhattan to the residence - we didn’t need to rewarm anything. “I KNOW we could have just eaten in the dining hall,” she said, shrugging, “call it zany - one last hurrah.”
Everyone seemed happy to be back. There were travel stories, questions, and laughter. Oh, and Zeppole, little powdered sugar custard desserts that seemed the worst for travel. Everyone seemed to have an eye on the clock though. By 11pm the suite was quiet. Très unusual.
* A song for this piece would be “Kennedy” by feeble little horse