Long Munching Poems
Long Munching Poems. Below are the most popular long Munching by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Munching poems by poem length and keyword.
Mulberry-leaf-munching moth pupa
spins silk to make the cocoon
for its transformation into its adult form
as a winged moth.
Pupa in the cocoon is
excited it will fly soon
Ten more days to go
It will fly and go
Joyous and happy it lays
Dreaming of future days
Heartless man picks it up
Drops it in boiling water
Takes out its threads
Makes clothing out of it
It is boiled alive for money and clothing!
People pay huge money buy, flaunt silk clothes
No one thinks how the cloth is manufactured
Even those who do, don't care about the silk worm
Why are humans so heartless
To kill instantly and eat is understandable
To boil alive for clothing, earning ??????......
All those who extract silk from silk worm should be boiled in hot water
And their body parts used for unnecessary purposes
Maybe then they will understand
Or maybe still they won't!
For humans are by nature most heartless of all living organisms
Our heartlessness knows no bounds.
Our selfishness has no limits.
We get back what we give state scriptures
For all that humans are doing what they will get back
I shudder to think
God please give some humanness to humans
27.03.2021
Note : According to PETA aproximately 3000 worms are killed to make one pound of silk. Say no to silk.
Lis and Me
I
picture
Lis and me
In twenty years,
she, a grandma, and
I, a great-grandmother
perhaps! We’re on a warm beach.
She’s sipping juice while I’m, instead,
munching on a snack. Naturally,
we’ll be doing what we do best. . . talking.
We’ve never lacked for things to chat about:
our joys and woes, our kids and pets,
God, husbands, diets, politics,
plastic surgeries we’d hoped
to get; (If we got them,
are we now content?)
On that beach, “old”
friends we’ll be,
Lis and
me.
I wrote this back in 2008 when my best friend was this woman
named Lis. However, after 12 years of a very deep friendship,
she tossed it to the curb. I found this poem tonight in old files
of mine and was reminded of my love for her. I will always love her,
but I think the future we dreamed of will never come to be.
I wake up in the morning
With the alarm clock going off
The Major League would hire me
If they got a look at that toss
Landing perfectly in the trash
On the other side of the room
Didn't wake up then
Till mid-afternoon
Pretty sure for certain
My boss is wondering why me he hired
On the job less than a week
And already on the verge of being fired
Forgot to pay my phone bill
So I couldn't give him a call
Seems the only thing I do right
Is doing wrong
Too cheap to buy flowers
So I pick them out in left field
Right next to the honey patch
With bees munching their meals
Brought them home to my girlfriend
Who proceeded to sneeze and cough
With a case of hay fever
This didn't go over as well as I thought
Her sneezing also interrupted
The bees in the bunch
Sticking their heads out from
The middle of lunch
That's when Miss Noisy
Was repeatedly stung
Seems the only thing I do right
Is doing wrong
Needing to withdraw my measly savings
I head down to the bank
Step inside and holler HOLD UP
As I was running late
All the tellers they screamed
And pointed accusingly at me
As I stood there in the middle
Of all the melee
The cops roughed me and cuffed me
And took me to jail
With no boss and no girlfriend
To pay on my bail
Now here I sit in the slammer
With no idea of how long
Seems the only thing I do right
Is doing wrong
I do not know a soul in here
and the opposite is true.
I crashed the damn shindig
well disguised. I blend right in
yucking it up with the party folk.
I'm hiding behind my face mask
and baseball cap. I'm taking it all in,
enjoying a salty dog cocktail
The mood is as festive as ever!
Everyone's dressed to impress!
Hors d'oeuvre is making the rounds
and I'm munching with the party folk
The revelry is insanely loud
and I'm whooping it up with the party folk.
Everyone is having too much fun
to notice I don't belong.
They're partying like it's 1999
I assume until the break of dawn
God knows for what occasion!
Beer and wine flow unremittingly...
and I'm drinking it up with the party folk
The DJ is working overtime
playing all sorts of catchy jams.
Music is blasting and poppin'
and I'm grooving with the party folk.
I'm in such swell company,
just having the time of my life.
The party reaches a fever pitch!
Uh oh, here comes the cops,
to shut the whole shindig down. Darn!
Fictional write submitted for...
Party Folk Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Julia Ward
Date: 12/12/2020
There are twenty four days
left to Christmas and already
small children dream of toys;
isn't there a better way
for them to forget the cold
and see some magic unfold?
Skinny Willy has built a snowman,
he's getting ready for a winter's tan;
his cheeks are turning red like strawberries,
but funny is his belly stuffed with jellybeans
and California sweet cherries...
he has shaken many trees!
He and Santa make a perfect pair,
munching on a delicious eclair;
oh, laugh skinny Willy: beware of naughty Billy...
he will knock down your snowman so quickly!
Skinny Willy has built a snowman
with a grim face and a funny chin;
all he wants is fast Christmas music and eat
mom's ginger cookies while swinging his long feet!
Written on 12/1/ 2016
I followed milky and mouldy scents,
down cobbled and narrow paths,
only to see it riddled with rats,
feasting on Feta and Camembert,
whilst the wine sipping Uppers prepared to
clash against the cider swigging downers!
The Fromage Frenzy and Curd Craze deli.
across from the Dizzy Duck and the Boastful Bard taverns
had been ransacked with only cracker crumbs on the floor.
All the cheesemongers were hiding in their basements.
All the landlords locked away in their cellars!
Bar stools dripping with Chardonnay and Merlot,
carpets soaked in 'Scrumpy Jack' and 'Strongbow.'
It was utter chaos as the 'cheese shed' raged on...
The goats and the cows watched,
as the town folk gathered on either side.
Anger in their eyes, yelling insults like;
'Cheap cheddar gobblers' and 'stinky Stilton munchers.'
This was not cultural tensions,
nor issues with tariffs, quotas or labelling practises-
this was a war of the social classes!
They were not fighting with fists or weapons,
oh no, no no..
The Downers started squirting stinky cheese sauce,
drenching the Uppers with its reeking stench.
However, when the Uppers started hurling
Storico and Caciocavallo Podolico,
back at the Downers, they simply,
started consuming it with their cider!
Both fractions kept pelting and sprinkling,
until little Joey from the farm,
reminded them the football had started,
so off they plodded to watch the game,
singing and laughing together,
arm in arm, munching on cheese
they had salvaged from their skirmish.
The sound of heavy jaws munching -
an angelic weeping,
the crack of delicate wing bones.
Earlier, a listless sky trailed shreds of fear
the goodly being dragged into red cave-mouths.
"My angelica are grounded tonight," he thought.
The mechanical grinding of molars continued.
My seraphim and cherubim, all the innocence
Of long forgiven souls are in peril.
A guttural cackling rises from backyards,
from asphalt parks, and vacant lots.
The gloriously burnished, armored archangel
stands among the trash cans, great sword
held brightly aloft.
"When dawn comes creeping
this insane demonic laughter will cease,
the downed souls will rise again,
minus a few fine bones.
The tears of the half-chewed will burn
all those that prey upon them.
The demented evil doers will suffer the hell
of the dawn’s gastric flux; let them choke upon
the toxicity of our holiness."
Quote- Let not my ashes spoil the soil, rich in it with thy flesh- Poet
Oh, how the sky looks so gorgeous today
Calico colors in wavy waffled rows
Of mixed bright white clouds edged in dark grey
The willow trees sway while a mild wind blow
And the elks in the pasture munching on green
Where all kinds of flowers and greenery grow
A river that zigzags through a narrow ravine
Has a limestone bottom that hides large rainbow trout
A picture so perfect for an "Outdoors" magazine
And the sounds of the songbirds in the forest throughout
Steer butterfly's and bumble bees all over the sky
This nature's scenery is like paradise- no doubt
This stunning a place puts a sheen in my eye
For this is the place in which I'd like to die
Foreword... the sort of daft rubbish I write in a effort to defeat writer’s block. No attempt to make any sense, just to get words on a page/screen. Normally I end up deleting such garbage... but I kinda like this one.
The Block
There’s a mule in my pool and he’s munching on a carrot
There’s a fool with a rule who is measuring a parrot
There are chicks doing tricks with some pogo sticks
And some ticks eating bricks with their weetabix
There’s a bunny selling honey cos he hasn't any money
And some blokes telling jokes although none of them are funny
There’s a ghost eating toast spreading butter with a rifle
And a fellow with some jello cos he’s gonna make a trifle
I got some goats in the post they came through my letter box
I got a present from a peasant, it’s a pair dirty socks
There’s a big hole in my bucket, now you know what made me chuck it
And it landed on the parrot so I think I’m gonna pluck it
So I find I’m writing stuff about a hamster in a frock
Cos it came as quite a shock when I got this writers block
But my back’s against the wall, I’ll write anything at all
’til I unlock the block and I write something really cool
We've been imprisoned in our own homes
to fight a disease so devatasting,
and the impact on our well-being
is depression and solitude distancing lives!
How delightful was to take a stroll in Manhattan,
view the tall skyscrapers while munching on a honey bun!
People were cheerful and always said hello,
where did our genuine happiness and positive attitude go?
Wearing a face mask is a requirement,
don't walk into a supermarket without it:
you'll be forbidden to enter the premises;
be very considerate, think about others!
Health advisers promise a possible vaccine
by the end of this year and it shows promise,
the pandemic is spiking, children aren't immune;
will they go back to school and happily commute?
I have applied for a new job to beat boredom,
age is not a factor when you got the enthusiam;
staying at home ages your body and makes you weak,
I have to rejuvenate myself and not become a freak!
Ah, yesteryear as we remember it is missed and wanted again,
only viewed into the mirror of consciuosness when joy excited us!
Can it be revived and be ours again after this deep crisis?
Ah, all these reminisced memories conjure us to a speedy return!