Long Nosh Poems
Long Nosh Poems. Below are the most popular long Nosh by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nosh poems by poem length and keyword.
Hopalong was a frog
Who dreamed of a better life
Dreaming of a kiss from a princess
Who he could take for a wife
Now, dreams don’t often come true
But this was his lucky day
It just so happened quite by chance
That a princess just came his way
The princess was being pestered
By some bothersome dragonflies
While she was trying to picnic
Hopalong heard her loud cries
Dragonflies, it has to be said
Was this frogs favourite meal
“I’ll get rid of those dragonflies” he said
“For a kiss, do we have a deal?”
The princess did hurriedly agree
So Hopalong gobbled up every one
It was only a matter of seconds
Before every last one had gone
“I’ll give you a kiss” said the princess
“But, first give your mouth a good rinse”
Hopalong did and then came the kiss
And POW! he turned into a prince
Now, you may think that the end of the story
Sad to say, this was not the case
Sure, the relationship bloomed for a while
But, Hopalong just lacked the grace
The king and queen were not happy
They did not approve of his past
Hated the fact he was once a frog
The relationship was doomed not to last
Meal times, they were the worst
The posh nosh he grew to despise
Oh! for such simple pleasures
Like munching on small bugs and flies
Then the arguments started
Over their planned wedding day
Hopalong invited his parents
The princess alas said “no way”
That was the final straw
The relationship they decided to ditch
Hopalong packed up his belongings
And sought out the towns local witch
The witch with her wrinkles and crinkles
And warty skin and long nose
Said “A prince wishing to become a frog?”
“Well, it makes for a change, I suppose”
The witch mixed up a strange potion
That included some animal brain
Hopalong took just the one gulp
And POW! was a frog once again
He thanked the witch and hopped off
Back to the place of which he was fond
Who needed to be a prince anyway?
When he was already king of the pond
Now, Hopalong is completely contended
The happiest he’s been by far
The moral is, it’s alright to dream
But, be happy with just who you are
©Gary Wayne Hill, 2019
Six months gone now since that dark night, I was kitchen-bound for a bite
Hoping I in icebox there a slice of pumpkin pie could score –
While I searched, I heard a ringing, an insistent ding-a-linging,
Louder than my smartphone’s pinging, ringing two times, three times, four.
“Midnight visitor?” I pondered, thinking thoughts who and wherefor
Might so late darken my door.
‘Twas Thanksgiving, I remember (that’s a Thursday in November,
When a turkey we dismember and feast ‘pon its roasted gore).
After hungry tummies sating, all the world’s ills debating,
Rival football fans berating (hating all that they stand for),
Quasi-comatose from eating, stomachs larger than before,
We our sofas did explore.
Hedonistic urges waning, o’erindulgences disdaining,
Bade me, made me promise ne’er to gorge myself as theretofore.
But then hours after feeding, came I more pie wanting, needing,
To my id defeat conceding, salivating pie-wedge for,
Wandered I then tart-ward going, in post-poultry-binge torpor
When heard I the bell of door.
Intent on not delaying, stumbled I toward door saying,
“Why on God’s green earth would one so late be found afront my door?
For as bell you were attacking, I intent was on pie snacking,
And was it from fridge unpacking, smacking lips in thoughts of more,
Late-night nosh you’ve interrupted” – I unlocked and opened door;
There a sight I did abhor.
To my eyes so unappealing as to set my mind a-reeling,
Frantic thoughts of what to do about it pierced me to my core,
Eons passed – me disbelieving, praying eyes were me deceiving,
Why and wherefor not conceiving, whispered ‘gainst hope I, “Lenore?!?”
No two syllables together said had ever pained me more
Than those two said at my door.
There upon the doorstep standing, unpaid taxi fare demanding,
Wearing something that no fashion magazine had seen before,
Umpteen suitcases, a handbag, enough perfume to cause me to gag
(Call it Eau de Camphored Dishrag), welcome as a herpes sore,
With a scowl to scare Torquemada, and a stare like molten ore,
My wife’s mother, named Lenore.
[Written last year, or perhaps the year before
But youtube was awash with parodies in a
Similar vein. Unless I didn’t look properly, I
Haven’t posted it before... so here you go...]
***
I don’t want a lot for Christmas
Food is the one thing I need
I just care that it tastes pleasant
Can you eat a Christmas tree
I just want ham on the bone
And fresh cream profiteroles
And some cheese that’s blue
All I want for Christmas is food
I just want hot nosh for Christmas
Food is the one thing I need
I just care that it tastes pleasant
Can you eat a Christmas tree
Make sure you don’t hang my choccies
Just above the fireplace
Sausage rolls would make me happy
Food is joy on Christmas Day
I just want ham on the bone
And fresh cream profiteroles
And some cheese that’s blue
All I want for Christmas is food baby
I won’t ask for stuff this Christmas
I can’t eat a dish of snow
I’m just gonna keep on eating
Under eating’s a no no
I want marmite crisps and salted
A Tuna and corn sandwich
I might even stay awake to
Eat a reindeer till I’m sick
’cause I drank some beer tonight
Hold on mate, my bladder’s tight
What more can I chew
Baby all I want for Christmas is food
Food
Fairy lights are shining
On the chocolates over there
And I found some chips and
Lager in my lair
And ’cause the oven’s minging
I hear microwaves dinging
Santa won’t you bring me the thing I really need
Won’t you bring peas and bacon to me
Oh I just want some nosh for Christmas
Chips is all I’m asking for
I just want to drink my gravy
Spam is right outside my door
Oh I just want to gnaw this bone
More than you could ever know
Make me chicken stew
Baby all I want for Christmas is food
All I want for Christmas is food baby
All I want for Christmas is food baby
Now I’m Yorkshire peasant stock
I sup ale instead of drinking wine
And I tend to nosh my scranny
Not sit down proper and dine
There’s a restaurant down our street
Not really for the likes of me
Attendants to park all cars
And it’s a la carte you see;
But some times we eat there,
For the odd special deals
Like two for one offer
Or discount on eaten meals.
One of the things I like there;
And I like it quite a lot
Is one of the restaurant staff
That I call Mr Pepper Pot.
He patrols the place.
He’s never ever still,
And he carries in his hand
A huge wood pepper mill
As soon as the food is served
He pops up and he’s there
Very quietly asking all
Some pepper, madam? sir?
He knows I am just a peasant
One of those really born to serve
Knows I’d like to answer no
But I just don’t have the nerve;
And with a flick of the wrist
He’s ground and served the stuff
Then standing back proudly
Asks has sir, madam got enough?
Now the speaking of those words
Is really just breath wasted
Because he’s up and off before
Any meal has been tasted
But I suppose its consideration
That the restaurant can see
Seasoning of food is too importamt
To be left to an oaf like me
Off he flounces down the room,
Such a feeling of release.
And I know there’s a chance
I can eat my meal in peace.
Oh I admire my Mr Pepperpot.
For his energy and charm.
And he rules that restaurant
With skill of wrist and arm.
Sometimes in my fantasies
Though I don’t fantasise a lot
I dream I am in that restaurant;
As the New Mr Pepper Pot.
‘cos I’m Yorkshire peasant stock
I sup ale instead of drinking wine
And I tend to nosh my scranny
Not sit down proper and dine
Each morning, for several years,
We’ve fed the squirrels and birds.
Oh, the fun we have watched
And the beautiful songs we've heard.
Families have started and grown.
Once two squirrels, now eight.
Cardinals, among many other birds,
Know feeding time….are never late.
Cardinals mate for life and prefer
A permanent nest to call their home.
And if food is readily available,
Even their young won’t roam.
So, now our trees are filled
With morning Cardinal song.
Our cats are old and fat.
All is good and life is long.
A bigger Cardinal, I call him Big Red,
Is first there every morning.
I think he’s the elder whose job it is
To sing out his ‘OKs’ or issue warnings.
He watches from the trees as I feed.
He used to hide, but no more.
He’s been coming closer lately,
I guess by now he thinks he knows the score.
This Spring morning was so ideal;
So, after feeding, it was coffee on the patio;
Watching all the critters nosh
As they come and go, come and go.
Quite suddenly, not even ten feet away,
The big Cardinal landed on the patio.
Surprised as could be, I was very still.
“Hey, Big Red.”, I said, sure that he would go.
He stood his ground, giving me the eye.
I could see his mate on the fence,
Watching so intently,
Probably wishing he would fly.
Slowly I lifted my cup in a toast.
“Cardinals rule.” I said quietly.
Then, something very special happened.
For a time, he sang....to me.
It made me very happy.
Her iciness gaze ensnared my foolish heart.
I was cast in the role of a comic swing.
Her infectious smile entices my depart.
She led my nervous hand to the Devil's ring!!
I was cast in the role of a comic swing.
Allow me to nosh your savage side, she roars.
She led my nervous hand to the Devil's ring!!
Submit now and brace yourself for a wild floor.
Allow me to nosh your savage side, she roars.
Her touch was thrilling as I sooth her body.
Submit now and brace yourself for a wild floor.
As I drew close to her, I grasped the fury.
Her touch was thrilling as I sooth her body.
Forewarned to her as a moth to a candle.
As I drew close to her, I grasped the fury.
I was dumb fool playing the devil's gamble!
Forewarned to her as a moth to a candle.
Devil claims she is a sinner, not a saint.
I was dumb fool playing the devil's gamble!
Her quest was not one to be taken with faint.
Forewarned to her as a moth to a candle.
Her infectious smile entices my depart.
I was dumb fool playing the devil's gamble!
Her iciness gaze ensnared my foolish heart.
Written: April 1st, 2022
MY FOOLISH HEART Cash Prize Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: L MILTON HANKINS
Checked by HMS.COM
We six sheep of Bethlehem be
Bogg, Whiff, Wheep, the triplets and me*
We all get fed and sleep in this shed
It's simple, but so are we!
O star of wonder, star so bright
Guiding strange folk here tonight
Unsuspecting sheep affecting
Oh, what a holy fright!
Who's these people? Oh Golly Gosh!
What's a'doing? Bish! Bash! Bosh!
There's a stranger in our manger,
Offsprung into our nosh!
O wondrous star, so satnav wise
Heaven guiding fat rich guys
Who needs peasants bringing presents?
Kings give the best surprise!
It's them shepherds - oh, what a pain!
Nosy types - a sheep's daily bane;
Off their backsides from the hillsides
Interfering again!
O wondrous star, O shiny thing
Even a sheepie can look at a king
Happy greetings, birthday bleatings
Who knew the sheep could sing?
O party star, O star so true;
Kings and shepherds having a do
Dancing clapping, no chance napping
What's a tired sheep to do?
Our bedroom's filled with brilliant light,
With people that we didn't invite
And something odder in our fodder;
Oh, for a Silent Night!
*Sheep can count but, as Eric Morecambe might have said, although they have the right numbers, they are not necessarily in the right order.
It feels like hell to be stuck!
It feels overwhelmingly annoying not to know when to break out of the cage, when captured like a beast against your will.
Set loose the chains of poverty, inferiority , mediocrity l am saying change is the key , can't you see?
It feels like to be a parasite stagnantly sucking the air out of their pockets and nosh out of their pantries , now left with no panties, what a shame , such a low point!
It feels like winter in my heart , mind and soul, so cold my thoughts , actions and emotions just turned stone cold. Being broke and unemployed takes a man 's esteem.
It felt like Heaven, when the door got opened. I became what l had always dreamt about. A platform to be a blessing from the Paraclete .
It feels like sunshine in California.
Feet in the beach, smiling at the sun.
Dark days behind me ,
Starving days behind me,
Strong and ready to break free,
It felt wonderful when l wrestled fiends , friends and poverty inorder to conquer and make the world a better place with nouns and verbs.
It feels glorious to be sancro- sanctified .
Successful, prosperous like a wise man more like David .
Giving back , growing and inspiring the masses
I feel truly graced .
in Pando's shadow a young maiden sings
wander'd to and fro peat bog feet sloshing
auburn locks adorned in daisy crowned rings
quite unaware that something was watching
one with thick skinned carion heart at core
to scavenge Middlemist's red camellia
he too delivered from far away shores
a renaissance ratel in rebellion
Leila leisured in shade of quaking aspen trees
treacle honey joys spilled out across her dress
temptation so strong insatiable hunger needs
dark honey badger lept from a tufted hedge
in presence one so endeared, showed no fear
for all beasts, nature's greatest gift bequeath
proffered morsel from open hand as he neared
inquisitive eyes belied soft heart and sharp teeth
forest branches embraced the two in nosh
as trembling giant's rustling now subdued
ladybugs flit from branch to dew covered moss
fingers stroked rough fur nape to back as he chewed
two walked ancestral shores as newfound kin
sniff'g this way and that among tufted pearls
claws tap entranced her soft cooing voice hymn
face framed in rivulets long carefree curls
long past gone Leila's song through far away gates
honey badger' forest friend rests - Pando waits
" Unforseen Evolution"
Meant for something better
Wait for me.... the world is changing!
I swear l will find you and when l am on top she will say l do it good this a journey of a lifetime in a Lexus without a nexus l was King in my nightmares only to be resurrected by the Knight in my dreams this tale is of royalty.
No plan l was scratching my head , no nosh it was water boy , no toys bro , just a base ball cap and a string for faith .
On my knees l was praying each and every day l saw an angel in my mento and she whispered you are a warrior keep your head up you are almost there.
Forget about the shortcuts , cutting corners l use the long road it got me safe on my feet when l landed l took a trip to Mars and the moon winked my approval for a chance at the hightable.
A tribal chief like Roman Reigns l am a champion , two formidable cribs with a pool and a jacuzzi , a German shepherd , one cat and thirteen fast cars the last disciple being him l am talking Mustangs.
A slice of cheese , cameras shooting , history being made and l ain't never going back to empty shelves and pockets this is my moment l am basking in.