Long Peas Poems
Long Peas Poems. Below are the most popular long Peas by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Peas poems by poem length and keyword.
Sugar Lily did not know her grandma well
But she recognized her smile as friendly
Her parents were excited to be off on their own
They acted like kids, waving and yelling.
Grandma Day yelled “Go already!”
They were gone in a blast after that.
Sugar Lily learned to snap peas out of pods.
She learned how to crochet a chain.
By the time her parents came back
Grandma Day was her new best friend.
She announced all of her accomplishments in the car.
I learned to paint a fence. I learned to swim in a lake.
I learned to dig for worms. I learned to fish bass.
I learned to be quiet when grandma’s boyfriend comes over.
Boyfriend! My daddy nearly wrecked the car.
Just teasing, I said, but can I come back next summer?
I rode daily through Waterbury rocky hills
when Spring and Fall enchanted drivers
who saw evergreen tops vacillate over dreamy landscapes;
and between then and now...Autumn
still dazzles me more with its flaming red leaves
decorating highway trees, one never feels afraid or alone.
Stop to admire jessamines and sweet peas cling to reddish barks,
as they spread their aroma while sunshine makes lightening sparks
among wide branches bearing no fruit of any kind;
take the same highway and watch deers run wild!
Notation: Waterbury, CT
Written by Andrew Crisci
for Russell Sivey's contest,
" Autumn Splendor "
Polar bears, spotted owls and honey bees
Care nothing of scientific debates
Over flatus of cattle and SUV’s.
Some drop big oil drills and some drop big trees
To provide a place for our dinner plate,
With its filet mignon or black eye peas.
The planet goes on with its rolling seas
Immune to false conclusions and the hate
Over flatus of cattle and SUV’s.
Should politics and graduate degrees
Be allowed to sit and decide our fate,
While eating filet mignon/black eye peas?
Political winds, like a gentle breeze,
Carry the pollen of absurd debate;
Over flatus of cattle and SUV’s.
Perhaps all the powers of wannabe’s
Can save all the birds, fishes, ants and trees;
The filet mignon, and the black eye peas;
The flatus of cattle and SUV’s.
Waiting for chips*
Hungry at noon
Vinegar, salt
Use a fork not a spoon
Eat by the sea
Where the waves are unhurried
Peas that are mushed
Sauce that is curried
Two slices of bread
A chip butty create
Overloading my buds
Luscious carbohydrate
There are pies. There are peas
There is gravy and fish
Loading it all on your tray
Pile it up as you wish..
Unwrap from the paper
Don't decant to a plate
'Saves washing up'
And besides it tastes great
The angels in heaven
Look downward in awe..
As the humans devour
Much of what they adore
One of life's simple pleasures
Take a peek, there are many
Eating chips by the sea
Can't be beaten by any
Jinjagoliath
2nd July 2023
*in the UK French fries are 'chips'
My youngest son is 53 years old
A chip off the old block as they say
I take full responsibility for this young fellow
Scott is his name, silliness is his game
Proud as punch of that boy
'Why grow up' has always been my motto
He has certainly accepted it as his as well
Like two peas in a pod we are
Poor dear wife Cathie
She is tested daily by us two extreme characters
She deserved some kind of an award, a medal
For endurance under extreme comedic conditions
The word 'serious' does not exist in our vocabulary
Life is one big hoot
And why not... the alternative sucks
Did I say I'm proud as punch of my Scottie
A successful computer guru
Heading up the Creative Services Department
Of a large company servicing the pharmaceutical industry
Did I say I'm proud as punch of this fellow
I'm repeating myself aren't I
He's the 'apple' of my eye
Ironically, we are both Apple Computer geeks!
We're both bytes out of the old Apple
Vera Selena (Osburn) Hinshaw (June 4, 1935 - July 19, 2018)
We bought our house on Judson Street in nineteen sixty-seven.
Though we endured many vicissitudes, you made it pure heaven!
You loved everyone and everyone loved you, that's for sure!
Your sweet smile and gracious southern charm added to your allure.
You were a stay-at-home Mom who in our girls took great pride.
You mentored them to be the ladies they became and was their steady guide.
You made sure we went to church and the girls attended Sunday School,
To adhere to God's Commandments and abide by the Golden Rule.
With wonderful wit and great insight you kept us on an even keel,
And with tender and loving kindness, all our hurts you could heal.
So many cherished memories you created during the various holidays,
That became family lore and traditions earning our eternal praise!
You were a creative cook who took pride in serving delicious food.
The aroma of supper simmering on the stove always lightened our mood!
Eating black-eyed peas for good luck on every New Years Day,
Seemed peculiar to this Yankee dude but we still observed it anyway!
We relished the times just reminiscing by the fire sipping mugs of joe,
Or watching glorious Colorado sunsets with our family on the patio.
Thank you dear for your love and care - for this we were very blessed.
You truly made our 'house a home' (to paraphrase the poet Edgar Guest)!
Written in collaboration with my daughters Leanna and Leslie
Two peas in a pod
she’s so hot
both showing off
branded shades and shoes
his arms circle her
a prison so secure
how could she not
want some more
from her flat belly
dramas emerge with Rasta son
this mother with belladonna daughter hum
a priestess or princess
he does not know
it is all part of their show
Two peas in a pod
she’s so hot with potato
koeksusters on Sunday morning
legs like pegs in African colour sprawling
Woohoo ! both peas were soldiers with MKs
one from Zimbabwe
other from Mzantzi
sharp-shooting was their skill
in past for a kill
now their drama is
for paying fat bills !
~~~~~~~~~~~
Written for and about my eldest daughter, Freya Lily (Pickle).
Ive loved you,
from the very first second I saw you,
you are my beautiful first born.
So the times when I see you upset
frustrates me and I’m torn.
Because you truly are lovely,
And trust me when I say
that I look at you every day
Filled with so much pride,
That i can hardly contain,
it makes me want to burst inside,
You’re as sweet as the classical music
you play at night.
Because it only seems like yesterday.
you was that gorgeous little baby.
sat in your high chair,
lacking any eye brow hair.
chucking food down to daisy,
the most lazy,loving dog
Who would always follow you around the house,
With her ears pricked up,as if
her suspicions were aroused.
It’s like somehow she knew
you was up-to no good,
or really I think she was just waiting
for you to drop more food.
I will never forget the the time.
when your mum called me to say,
you had poured red paint on the carpet that day.
I could only imagine her shock and despair.
As she desperately tried to scrub
The paint from the top of the stairs.
Your poor mum was in such a distress,
As she told me later that night
she was cursing my name,
as she cleared up that mess
Because apparently me and you
are like two peas in a pod,
We play fight in a supermarkets,
and be mischievous
like a dad and daughter should.
But as I sit looking at you now watching you grow.
I love you so much.
that I thought you should know,
what a wonderful young lady your going to become,
your loving and kind,
with a softness and innocence.
But at times you have a worrying naivety.
Also I think that it’s fair to say.
and I’m sure your agree with me,
that getting you to tidy your room
doesn’t come so easily.
other then that don’t ever change
as your doing just fine,
We all love just how clumsy and silly
you are most of the time.
You have a brilliant sensor of humour and
your a fantastic young artists
With dreams of designing fashion
And moving to Paris.
And You will,
with some heart and desire.
So Never lose your love,passion or fire.
You can do whatever you want to do.
and be whoever you want to be.
because your my beautiful darling daughter,
My Angel face,
Freya Lily.
( pickle)
Pursuing springtime walking sprees
beside our dog, beneath the trees,
I oft detected some unease
amongst the birds and buzzing bees
as echoed by flat monodies
of clicking, clacking, knocking knees
(forsooth, reversed parentheses)
resounding pained discordant keys,
confusing triplets’ twos and threes
as if the tunes were meant to tease
with awkward stilted harmonies.
I asked a doc with med degrees
if he could, somehow, kindly, please,
suggest intensive therapies
that maybe might perhaps just ease
strange syncopations such as these
(you know, those eerie melodies
that echo from my noisy knees)
before my family finally flees.
At last my doctor said “oh geez,
this is the worst of maladies,
so I’ll replace those knobby knees
(they look like half moons made of cheese)
with stainless steel or manganese
or other metals such as these
as used in all such surgeries.
I’m sure the outcome won’t displease
(you’ll stand on legs, isosceles)
although there are no guarantees”.
Now that I’m fixed, I stretch and squeeze
with exercise my coach decrees
to aid me flex my new born knees;
and should I suffer agonies
he soothes the strains with frozen peas
or cubes of ice that make me freeze
and says “I hope my expertise
has helped to heal your injuries
and if you must, feel free to sneeze”.
With chiseled legs on racing skis,
I now can sail as does a breeze
o’er nearby alpine apogees
(and view those sites that no one sees,
alive in eagles reveries)
and when in Vail, win jamborees
upon my new non-knocking knees.
In my summer meadow
Lavender colored milkweeds, growing between dark purple butterfly peas, are
perfuming the warm air.
The color combination is especially pleasing to me; I love purple.
Perfectly round globes of milkweed are a magnet for bees, butterflies and a variety
of other insects. I see lightening bugs among them.
The buzzing of bumblebees, wasps and honeybees is accompanied by the chirping
of crickets and the happy twittering of the meadow birds.
Yellow Sweet Clover lends it's perfume to the summer symphony of soothing scents.
Tall spikes of blooming Johnson grass sways dreamily in the bright sunlight.
Right in the middle of a soft pink wild rose bush, a bright red butterfly weed is the
center of activity for many species of colorful butterflies. A brilliant blue"Two-barred
Flasher” flaps it's wings as fast as a hummingbird, while the orange-brown Buckeye
rests peacefully.
Next to the roses, a blackberry bush is promising juicy, dark berries soon, while the
Mulberry trees are already providing a welcome sweet snack for birds, deer and
bunnies.
A patch of wide- open orange daylillies is a cheerful spot over at the edge of the
trees and an emerald- green hummingbird enjoys their offerings.
There is so much life and beauty in a small patch of meadow!
I love it!