Long Oatmeal Poems
Long Oatmeal Poems. Below are the most popular long Oatmeal by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Oatmeal poems by poem length and keyword.
I, to the pasture's green could run,
and fly a kite beside the sun,
but choose, I do, to linger still,
among the dirt, what is my frill?
Low, be it may, to sink my feet,
into the slimy, pungent peat,
but with my grandad by my side,
would daily stroll along the tide.
To rescue guls stuck in the mud,
or gather sticks for firewood.
As luck would have it on one day,
the tides did change and under clay,
a viking boat from days gone by,
with shields of pine and rivots ply.
Unmasked itself from muddy deep,
a secret for ourselves to keep.
Each day, we returned, with a spade,
with picnic full of marmalade,
and feasted there beside the boat,
in our wool hat and winter coat.
Charmed not only by history,
but by such untold mystery.
Then on one fateful dreaded night,
the waves were high, the wind a fright,
storms blasted down upon the shore,
Until the longboat was no more.
My granddad early on that day,
forgot to mention or to say,
he felt unwell, or rather ill,
but trudgeoned on, a soldier still.
But in the haste of wind and gale,
I didn't realise he was pale.
By the morning when I awoke,
to no smell of cigarette smoke.
I went downstairs and saw the fridge,
his oatmeal there, still on the ridge.
Maybe a lie in, thought my head,
I ran upstairs to grandad's bed.
There asleep, I thought at a glance,
I nudged him, but he kept his stance.
He was gone, how? I hugged him tight,
and ran for the river at twilight.
So here I am beside the tide,
Waiting for the mud to reside.
But if it does, what shall I do?
For treasure is nought, without you.
Wyatt
by Edmund Siejka
We were in London
Dining in a four-hundred-year-old pub
Dark wood paneling
Beams carved from tree trunks
History and privilege
In medieval England
For us it was a family vacation
And everyone came.
My grandson Wyatt sat next to me
And I turned my attention to him
Letting the other adults talk
Among themselves.
Eyeing the beer in front of me
He asked
Grandpa can I have a sip?
Looking at this round-faced cherub
Sitting next to me
I couldn’t refuse
After all it was oatmeal beer
Easy on the stomach
And fairly bland
Taking a small sip
He simply said
It’s OK Gramps.
His mother saw everything
Reaching over
She tapped me on the shoulder
You shouldn’t be giving him beer
Turning to her son
And you Wyatt, you can’t do everything Grandpa does.
And then the food came
Sausage and Mash
Meat Pie with Mashed Potatoes
Fish and Chips
And dessert, Lemon Tart Pudding.
While we ate
I asked Wyatt
How were things in school?
Fine Gramps. And I have lots of friends.
Leaning towards me
He whispered
And you’re on my list.
List, I asked?
Yeah, a list of people I can always talk to
And who are my best pals
I’m honored Wyatt
I really am I said.
I didn’t say much after that
Afterwards when we got back to the hotel
My wife went to bed
And I stayed up for awhile
Thinking about this and thinking about that
But I couldn’t hold back the pride
When my ten-year-old grandson told me
I was on his list.
I secretly do these things to my neighbor
make fun of her walk, her talk, her arrogant ways
draw her as a cartoon buffoon with a giant large ugly toothy mouth
paint her wearing gaudy neon colors that she would despise
wash her hairsprayed up hair in my toilet bowl in my mind’s eye
write her into poems that are less than flattering
yell despicable things to her while I am in the shower
throw rusty hatches at her in my dreams
devour her in my oatmeal, eating her head first
dance the watusi in her face, watching her back away in horror
envision her being eaten by a big cat who breaks her back first
ignore her arrogance and try to like her……..sorry. This was a lie.
I want to be a pirate’s unicorn in my next life.
A beautiful pirate named Sadie, who gives me no strife.
We’ll sail the seven seas my little Sadie and me.
We’ll steal riches and treasures, happy we’ll be.
Other pirates will be terrified when they see our flag.
It’s that vicious pirate girl and her meanie one horned nag!
We’ll catch them up in nets and we will make them walk a plank.
We’ll chop some up as meat until we smell their ugly stank.
We will be on the most wanted list, Queen Sadie and me.
She’ll dress in red rhinestone dresses, as pretty as can be.
Her talents will be legend in every foreign nation.
We will rob six months a year, the rest of them, vacation.
We will wake up on the beach, every day, and take a run.
We will eat hot oatmeal pies, and try to get some sun.
She will ride on my back in a queenly pirate way.
Pirate and the Unicorn, a best-selling Broadway play.
I am a beer taster it's an odd job
Beers are like nuts, they're tasty, nuts do soothe the hops
I drink a lot of beers , I drink them with cheer
My skills i learned with glee at many workshops.
I smell them note thier quality I love beer.
I taste the feel . These shops do have the chops
An oatmeal stout and, ales of cream are the top
A Lambic ale is fruity Drink them with peers
An oatmeal stout,dark, tastes of cocoa I state,
An oatmeal stout does taste like coffee, it's great .
You like cream that's whipped ?Cream ale a dream.
I do love brown fruity tasting wheat ale .
This ale is light it tastes like whip cream
A ale of fruity wheat on tap will never fail.
And many tastes this brownish ale's theme
I check out findings raptly for each beer,
I taste the ales and beers ,my job my career
I woke up one gray and melancholy morning
munching oatmeal and buttered toast, alone
same as yesterday, last week and maybe tomorrow
when I saw a whirling wonder flying down the road.
It whirled outside my windowpane
it whirled from head to toe
it whirled with neon pinks and greens
it whirled and twirled and flowed!
I saw a bicycle with watermelon wonder wheels
as it rode in tumbling tandem down the road
and on it sat a generous, plump lady ballerina
wearing bright red lipstick, holding a bright red rose.
She waved at me and smiled, as I gawked at her, alone
her hair flew wildly behind her, as she pedaled down the road
the clouds suddenly parted, and as the morning sun shone
joy filled my eyes, to see that watermelon wheel rider
whirling down the road.
Where did you get that oatmeal cookie I asked Jack.
Off the oatmeal cookie tree, we keep it out back.
His mother gave the kitchen counter a tiny whack.
With her old-fashioned apron made from a flour sack.
I got into their frig and got myself some pepper jack.
Where is your other kid? Oh, she said, do you mean Zack?
I did not know about him. I meant your little one, Mack.
He is with my husband, eating lunch at Restaurant Jack Stack.
Jack got excited and asked “With Frick and Frack?”
They are his cousins; the three are usually a pack.
Yes, said his mother, and also with Uncle Hack.
The acks in this family, they simply don’t lack.
in old school days
i used to eat
paste
that we were
supposed to
use for art
works such
as a stick
figured
snow man
who's hands
were made of
sticks but i
got stuck on
eating the stuff
but can't say it was
like purposely
putting
a tube of glue
in a paper bag
sniffing until
passing out
for in simply
taking a taste
while copying
Picasso
was
truly Proustian
for my mind
took not
by smell yet
was propelled
to a time
when i was ill
and Mum was
making oatmeal
taking a taste
spoon fed
takes
me back
to an earlier
time when i was
in a highchair
unaware if all
but being
fed pablum
by someone
so i suppose
this wasn't
a mind opening
experience of
remembrance
of things
past
Form:
Have you ever had one of those days
On the wrong side of the bed, bad days
When everything right went wrong
Cause the ding had lost it's dong
Ouch, Mr. Sun came peeking in
Up from bed and banged your shin
Leaky, full toilet overflowed
Damn, you stubbed your other big toe
Times like this: don't you love those days
Hardly anything seems to go your way?
Is little Johnnie turning green
Splat! Is that doggie ice cream?
Gas oven took a dump
Everyone’s oatmeal was in clumps
The kids were late AGAIN for school
Wasn’t that traffic cop a tool?
Oh, you should've just stayed in bed!
Rolled back over and called in dead…
Shoot! An hour late for work
Emptied Starbucks on your shirt
Dare you ask how this could get worse?
Others think you're such a jerk.
Next, the boss comes barging in
Tells you,"Look for work again"
Everything was going wrong
Vacation's gonna be a little long
Even your wife’s rope is at an end
Now she says, "Let's just be friends"
An asteroid fell from the skies
Smashed the beer between the thighs
Kick yourself for getting out of bed
a fun collaboration with the incomparable Tom Quigley
CONFUSED CRACKED CRAZY WORLD---
Public defender,
trying to remember,
placement inside of 8ft blender,
glass cubicle- full musical,
holy pentacle- left ventricle,
want to be saved so enraged,
caught up in the storm;
left all alone lightning and thunder,
got me wondering,
where is the warm,
come in from- the storm,
classic mistake- Miss Mats box crate,
oatmeal and raisin apple pie confuse,
Got a cold ah choo,
No more bacon cured-Susan dropped her pearls,
confused cracked crazy world
who's the one to uplift me,
isn't easy being green,
now classical Tale,
please send the mail,
post is not paid enough,
is said want to enlist,
can no longer take this separate,
confused cracked crazy world
by this electronic Blitz whooping and hollering,
lived in the projects but now I got this tattered,
and torn live in Warren Comfort Inn confuse,
pain- is not my game,
up the one way- down the same way,
Twist and Shout- turn it about,
ruffle and rhyme- rhythm and shine,
sing Blues- win or lose,
I'm the one -under the gun,
Rhythm and praise,
listen for days,
confused cracked crazy world
rich and poor- neither can afford,
I'm flattered and gold,
this I've Been told,
Mansion the function mumbo-jumbo,
shand and gumption, oh oh,
I am all about what I said bout the Rapture,
is here why must we fear,
confused crack crazy world
presence is gone- I'm all alone,
whooping and hollering trying to make a dollar,
cradle to the crib this much has been done,
all that I read- this is what I said,
Peace be out living the LIE I just want to live in Christ
confused cracked crazy world
1/6/19
Written by James Edward Lee Sr.2019©