Long Lunch Poems
Long Lunch Poems. Below are the most popular long Lunch by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lunch poems by poem length and keyword.
Is the honeymoon over
I’ll tell you what gives me a hunch
When I leave for work in the morning
She hands me my luggage instead of my lunch
Is the honeymoon over
What’s happening doesn’t make sense
When I put my arms around her
It’s strictly in self defense
Is the honeymoon over
While my heart is put through the wringer
When I come home I get no smile
Instead I get the finger
Is the honeymoon over
I can’t understand what she feels
When I said that I might leave her
She started doing cartwheels
Is the honeymoon over
Will I find my life in a rut
She said she wasn’t losing her best friend
She was losing a pain in the butt
Now I know the honeymoon’s over
And staying together would be too hard
When I tried to cut the grass I found
She planted land mines in my back yard
Just for fun
NO!! Don’t shoot!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Taste is a mystery
Forged by your upbringing and history
What I like
You may hate
You are a Taurus
I am a Scorpio
You take lunch
I eat breakfast
You enjoy soap's
I love sport
You believe
I don't
You are happiest preaching
While I prefer to listen
You are never wrong
Whereas I readily admit when I am
I carry the can
You pass the buck
You are blessed with endless good luck
I often come unstuck
You fly 1st class
I take the bus
You drink champagne
I like a pint
You think success equates to money
While paying me minimum wage
You rely on self
I depend on family
I will open a door
And say please and thank you
As you blindly walk on past me
Never stopping to thank me
Yet you are the benchmark
People wish to aspire to
Manners must cost nothing
Because otherwise if they did
You would be just as broke
As every other common folk
And you will still have to learn the value of manners
Many whispers travelled through the lunchroom
The newcomer was nervous, maybe,
That could explain the jabbering right?
Some of the diehard eaters stood by, demanding answers
It seems like Morty’s wailing meant his lunch was stolen again
This is a once a week thing. I beg him to bring his own refrigerator.
Once I agreed to split the cost, but he likes showing his rage.
It is something he cannot do at home with that thunder cloud wife of his.
Groaning is happening now. Maybe Morty is almost finished bawling.
There is a shriek! Someone has tossed out a Halloween rat with red eyes.
A sick joke, and not one to pull on Morty who has weapons in his car.
I know that he despises rats and scares easily.
They all love the way he responds to this teasing.
Anything I say likely said before
I find my poetry quite a bore
Poetry is seasoned by my lavender life
Like grams yams with cinnamon spice
I suppose I’ve looked back and laughed
At poems of liquid love that didn’t last
Of song rooted in strong feelings of life
Remembering those moved on who died
I look at my fellow poets in amethyst awe
With poems that flow while I cherry claw
To replace my staying relevant red fears
Posting while ghosting purple piano years
I had a goal or two I amber abandoned
Which fires my heart like civil war cannon
I somehow keep in touch with satin self love
Despite my crimes of passion I’m not giving up
Tonight is cold and I long for warmth
Putting off pajamas preferring arms
That wrap me like a cranberry Christmas gift
Pulls me peachy peacefully with heart lift
Reflecting upon my December birthday
Celebrated a whole week in my own way
Lunch with a friend a movie at noon
Brunch on my heart does the starry moon
For night comes and I am alone
Not so bad yet I’m lacking a poem
For my attention is on what you write
And I am happy to red read your insights
I love love and like looking ahead
As I lay awake alone in pink bed
2024 is coming to an emerald end
Shall I write of memories or wait for new ones to begin
"Good Day, how are yer?"
You hear most Aussies say
"Good Day, how are yer?"
As they hurry on their way
Never stopping for an answer
In case of a delay
Because conversation is almost
Obsolete today
There is no time to stand and chat
To just talk about this and that
It's hurry! hurry!
Rush! rush! rush!
Everyone's caught up in the crush
Lunch is eaten on the run
A meat pie and a finger bun
All washed down with a can of coke
I tell you, it's no joke
People should make time to talk
Slow down, take time off, enjoy a walk
The parks are lovely, weather too
So next time someone says to you
"Good Day, how are yer?"
Take time to answer them and say
"Just fine, and I trust that you are too"
I was doing a six week placement
For work experience several years ago.
Would a secretarial career suit me?
This I would soon know.
I was often alone in the office.
I wanted to give of my best.
I decided to put my ICT
Knowledge to the test...
There's a way to change the desktop background.
This I did on the boss's screen.
His was white, but large and central
Was a smiley face. Lime green.
I chose the plain white background.
But his image was not in the list!
So I had to leave it as it was.
To try, I will insist!
The boss and co were back.
And at some point during their lunch
The boss noticed the change
And he had a hunch.
He asked his co partner
If he'd been messing around
With his computer and its settings.
He denied. I made no sound.
" What's wrong? " He asked.
" My smiley face has vanished off the screen!
You know, our company logo?
Mr Smiley Green?
The computer has wiped him away!
He's completely disappeared! "
Inwardly, uncontrollable laughter
Almost to the point of tears.
But outwardly, I focussed
On the task I had at hand.
He didn't suspect me for a moment.
He probably thought I didn't understand.
Each time I think of this, I laugh
And share it with anyone near.
Did they ever solve the mystery
Of the face that disappeared?
Written 18th November 2021
Carrots for breakfast, carrots for lunch, Carrots for dinner, crunch, baby, crunch.
What are your immediate feelings about soup on a plate?
Vegetable and broccoli potato are both well worth a wait.
Don’t gag on the mushrooms,
You big ugly buffoons.
Crunch them up meticulously slowly, and good luck,
Don’t be afraid of disease, though they’re grown in the muck.
Pudding for dessert,
Who would, you blurt.
Oh, sorry, I mean, what’s that you say?
You could eat pudding any ole’ day?
Enjoy your leisurely dine,
And eat your pudding refined.
Chocolate, caramel and pistachio.
They are all stirred up warmly nice and slow.
Delicious delicacies on paper is a poet’s go-to write,
Everyone loves to think about taking an enormously tasty bite.
Spaghetti, pizza, meat loaf too.
All main dishes for me and you.
Hamburger, egg salad, smeary and good.
I’d eat it all up and be completely satisfied if I could.
The hag Mordicahia thought she had captured the Sorcerer King
In truth she had gotten his cousin, who was a ridiculous ding-a-ling
The real king would have left him there to rot like a buzzard’s lunch,
But his mother and aunt sent him to save his idiot cousin Munch.
Munch was an empty-headed skeleton with green eyes and no brain.
He was ridiculous in sunshine, thunderstorms, blizzards and rain.
The Sorcerer King came to the hag’s palace and chopped off a head.
Thought he'd snagged Mordicahia, was hoping the old hag was dead.
They were in the middle of making their way with her bounty and loot
When she transmogrified up wearing a crown, and one ugly red boot.
She and Sorcerer King got into a battle that lasted a week and a day.
But he sent her packing finally, and she never ventured back that way.
We met some friends from out of town
Who had 3 hours to spare
So Hudson Yards was the New York
We thought we’d like to share.
The subway ride and escalator
(Very long and deep)
Were, from their usual routines,
A rather giant leap.
We climbed the Vessel, took some pics
And strolled the High Line to
The Hudson, where some piped-in music
Glorified the view.
The indoor shops were quite a hit
And purchases were made.
At Citarella, lunch was picked
From gourmet foods arrayed.
A little trip to Hudson Yards
On a cold and sunny day
Provided lots to see before
Our friends went on their way.
The white wall
To begin a new cycle is hard not much happens around here, the street is the same as yesterday Rui, the English, is still working the till at the local supermarket, smiles, speaks upper-class English, And carries a secret, I would like to know about
I think he is from a wealthy family, but a scandal broke out, he made the housemaid pregnant, and in his circle, it was seen as the apogee of horror, or he was involved in financial fraud and had to leave, hide, and change his name to Rui
At lunch, in the café on the first floor of our building, the old couple sat. The man, who is in love with my wife came over for a chat, and his wife smiled she knows her husband was useless, as for me. How can I be jealous of a man who is older than me?
Nothing else happened that day except for Trump, who wanted The Panama Canal and Greenland too, this pathetic, old President with his blond hair trying to look young, but he is not fooling us, this idiot trying to buy Gaza and move the population to Egypt
Then it was late afternoon and time for a nap