Long Ham Poems
Long Ham Poems. Below are the most popular long Ham by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ham poems by poem length and keyword.
The deadly white of winter had descended.
Mountain high piles of snow braced the phone poles.
Mufflers donned we left for school unattended
for mother lay crying in her bed, we were not whole.
Father left many nights ago it seemed
we did not know the why, the what or when, just then
what would we do for Christmas, mother screamed.
In this earthly sorrow two little girls cried again.
All of eight was I, and she was but three,
No tree was dressed within the cold, white, rented farm house
only paper chains no sweet cane candy
the kitchen cupboards were bare even for the mouse.
The night bleak, mother pulled us on a sled
to Gran's we went, through snow and cold for dinner time.
Ma's heart had gone, when Father left her bed
Downcast, we trudged without Daddy's car, we climbed.
We came home and settled in, night brought surprise
our Daddy had come home, and it was Christmas night
he brought me a bike, a green and white prize
But all I cared about was the smile in his eyes.
It was the night before Christmas, and I couldn't sleep,
I got out of bed without so much as a peep.
And headed to the kitchen for something to eat,
buck naked, except for the slippers on my feet.
I didn't dare turn on the nightlight and wake my wife,
for the last time I did that, she threatened my life.
The house was dead quiet; I could not hear a sound
as I ventured downstairs, feeling my way around.
I got to the living room, stumbling a few times,
then I heard music that sounded like Christmas chimes.
So, I went to the window and pulled back the drapes,
thinking the neighbors were playing some Christmas tapes.
I forgot I was as naked as a jaybird;
till I heard the loudest scream I had ever heard.
The church quire was midnight-caroling on my lawn,
and in plain view, I stood bare-assed, not a stitch on.
Judging by the faces I saw scrambling to leave,
I don't think they'll ever forget this Christmas Eve.
It was never my intent to flash anyone,
I simply wanted a ham and cheese on a bun.
My sincere apologies to Dr. Seuss
I couldn't resist writing this one
Some of that tasty green ham and eggs
With a bunch of worms on a bun
Eeew! That sounds really quite gross
Dr. Seuss is turning over in his grave
Us poets call it artistic license
Sometimes it winds up depraved
Like how about this, lox in my socks
They'd get pretty stinky in a while
Or one knish, two knish in a dirty dish
Or yertles turtles in a pile
I'm really sorry, Mr. Theodore Geisel
That's Dr. Seuss' real name
Sure made our childhood a bunch of fun
But of course that was your aim!
Especially for John John!!!
© Jack Ellison 2105
I’ve nothing
positive to say today
Just different scenarios
In a vacant approach
Calling me to come home
I was left wandering
In the dark alone
The objective
To ease the hurt
Take away a curse
For days that we play
Reach for new heights
In a vulnerable scene
Tip toe on mercy
To avoid
the split in my spleen
In love with a phantom
Hidden behind a spotted face
Out for the souls of grown men
Those who have plotted
Against a broken race
Misplaced pigment cells
Only the pig in men sells
Walking on childhood misery
Adolescent years swayed
Mentally weighed
Prohibited the belief
Of a murdered messiah
Don’t you be so careful
As to let it hypnotize you
He who believes in thee
Can only be a liar
Shall I live
Then death to all rivals
No apologies
Its just the pledge of survival
The Quran
Your mischievous bible
I hold these latter-day saints
Equally liable
And if it gets no better
Love always
As her emotions led her
An old man as spoken for
Casualties of sympathy
Hoping for a cure
One old woman and ten dollars
Spent thanksgiving day
Hoping for a ham and a cabbage
But we savages in this ravaged land
Think nothing of her
But you got to love her
Reach out with your cold arms
And hug her
Rub the hurt
To keep her above the dirt
“Yes we can”
Do what?
Nothing again
I write for life
I write for birth
I write for you
For what it’s worth
I can’t stretch my intelligence enough
To write for peace on earth
It Made Me Think of You
David J Walker
Something
I don’t know what
Reminded me
You are not here
Perhaps it was the pot
On the stove
Like the one you used to
Soak the beans in
Overnight
Before simmering them
All-day
With a ham bone
Shedding its meat
Spreading it flavor
It makes me think of
The savor of
Warm cornbread
Made from scratch
It makes me think of a
Butter and a
Batch of biscuits
Which leads me to
The wild plum jam
Canned last summer
And the day we spent
Picking tomatoes as ripe
As August
And the next week
School started
And everyone looked
Brand new
Something,
I don’t know what
Made me think of you
I ham quill tee for gobbledygook...
and ruffling tail feathers!
An innocent miss steak kin...
once former main lion den cha hoard servant,
resident iz cow herd vegetarian boar
hoof faux whatever reason iz explore
ring bing foo fighting beastie boy, who doth
newt practice, what he preaches your
truly battens down chicken
coop hatches so... call me galore
re: us hypocritic,
this honest to dog omnivore – more
accurate said buzzfeeding primate -
*****sapiens, he whelk hams
adieu after quick bonjour
hears ear splitting eeyore
deaf finning chore
tills unable to ignore
admits transgression,
now wonder wherefore
whether art thou still
game to reed my adore
hub bull poetry
understandable if ye deplore
such atrocious, egregious, opprobrious...,
violating ethical core
puss regarding straying
against dietary herbivore
rudimentary eel lamb ants
(chocolate covered my dear Watson)
boot fault in the starfish...por
favor mice elf can
oxe plain twittering like plover
with reasonable rhyme for sure
don't get doggy dimples in bunch
cause to skewer me but... but before...
sending killing squad to slaughter -
this puppy, aye kindly honour
my wish and don
me noggin with pompadour
as fetching drag queen
torpedo sized bosom
squirting parti-color
milk as self defense mechanism
averting casus belli thus
amidst melee I abhor
find self on horns of dilemma
life story of this poor
cooked goose flambé
caught between rock and trapdoor
special cannibal delight
where madding crowd
chants "send him back"
accursed unconscionable roar
ring anger, but lurch for eats,
an impulsive reflex courtesy extempore
rain nee yes unforgivable poor
craven impulse to up peas hunger
uncontrollably craving regarding carnivore
pang additionally not further injure
ring innocent animal plus more
to this fishy tail than
meats the Wawa birdseye.
The fresh woft of roast ham
Although they will accept lamb
A beep of the air fryer
Their bellies full of desire
They would destroy this juicy meat
And see it as a sweet treat
Flowing throughout the house
The scent of freshly roasted honey hit their wet snouts
The excitement palpable, barks and shouts
The tension rises as it cools
Tails wag as they work out how to manipulate those fools
Eyes staring, not leaving their prize
The whimpers and the cries
All 3 ready to pounce
In their eyes no doubt
3 sets of eyes gazing into each moist slice
Only ham will suffice
All laid down, paws stretched
Drool flowing waiting for the slice of perfect
Their eyes never leaving me
Begging and pleading
Tongue licking their lips
As more drool drips
Finally their slice arrives at their mouth
2 seconds before it’s gone
My uncle Dran was an odd sorta man
who never much cared for livestock.
But wouldn't you know he kept a pig he loved so,
and named the fat thing, Ham hock.
Of little he cared but for the pig's dinner fare
and a desire to keep him from block.
No butcher you'd see would stand a chance or a plea,
to separate Dran and Ham hock.
One day on a walk came a squeal and a squawk
as they passed a farmland flock.
As a sow named Bacon took to squalling and chasing,
to the delight of old Ham Hock.
Bacon was bought after a hard bargain fought,
she was Dran's hog for the takin.
And never could one part, the sow and the old fart,
know as Ham Hock and Bacon.
To this day down the lane, if you travel again.
there's a legend for books in the makin.
For the piglets o' plenty, of the pigs, Dran has many,
cause he won't eat Ham hock or Bacon.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Pink Domino Contest
Sponsored by: Sara Kendrick
7/29/2016
Placed 10th
I saw a turkey circling, high above Manhattan
his bronze and copper feathers ripped in the sun,
and it looked like it was having an awful lot of fun.
He looked proud, in those clouds—majestic and delicious,
I could picture him sprawled out, on our Thanksgiving dishes.
Then I thought, chastisingly, “Wow, in a way, that’s kind of vicious.”
I opened the glass doors—we were sitting on the sky-high terrace.
I thought I’d better check—so I wouldn’t later be embarrassed.
I called Karen (Lisa’s Mom), “You already got a turkey to prepare us?”
She was hand making apple and cherry pies, lining crust in the pans
“You bet!” She called, “One's dressed-up—and a honey-baked ham!”
Closing the door, I yelled, through cupped hands, “Fly on Turkey—DO NOT LAND!”
.
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A song for this:
It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year - Shrift remix by Andy Williams and Shrift
.
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Here's a Christmas playlist: daweb.us/xmas/Christmas_34.mp3
Echelon; let’s take a quick stop at my favorite restaurant.
I feel a little funny.
I need food in my tummy.
I have not much money, but my tummy is empty.
Waiter, get me some peas and a glass of tea with plenty of honey.
The waiter asked while he went past,
Would you like clams or ham and cheese with your tea and peas?
Decisions, decisions, which one of these shall I have?
I do like them both.
Maybe, I should have clams and a half or ham and cheese.
My aunt Chalant makes the best ham and cheese.
Clams make me sneeze, ill at ease not a disease.
Gee weez!
Shall I get on my knees?
Please! Bring my tea and peas.
What shall I do?
I have not much money, but my tummy is empty.
Should I have clams and sneeze, or shall I have ham and cheese, or shall I have both a troth.
Decisions, decisions, shall I just have tea and peas?
4/13/2017