Long Pies Poems
Long Pies Poems. Below are the most popular long Pies by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pies poems by poem length and keyword.
I love the snow and beautiful blue skies,
gentle rain and thunderstorms,
winds that blow the fall leaves,
leaving a gold carpet up to my knees.
I don't like duratio winds,
or tornados that suddenly blow in,
earthquakes that take down walls,
or warm fronts that stall.
When flood warnings are posted,
I always wish I had a boat,
the threats are real,
I really hope I float.
Mud slides are wild,
I'm glad that in Ohio,
they aren't that common,
but I loved making mud pies as a child.
Ice storms leave a beautiful scene,
the icicles hanging like daggers,
salt trucks are loaded just in case,
getting it all organized is a race.
A beautiful blue moon,
that we see above,
all the things we've learned,
everyday at noon.
The weather man that taught us all,
no matter the conditions,
the one accurate reporter,
his name is Jym Ganahl.
My favorite lore of his,
after the first forsythia blooms,
there will be three more snow falls,
an intelligent man to know all this.
I hope he enjoys his retirement,
for many years to come,
we will often think of him,
when we can't find the sun.
Here we go, all start with a left grand.
Apples in pies and peaches are canned.
Lost my partner waddle I do?
Single file promenade they’ll be back to you.
Flies in the buttermilk shoo fly shoo.
Sashay back to your darlin waitin for you.
Don’t hold her too tight she might be frail.
Allemande left, don’t be slow like a snail.
Now do-si-do here we go, keep on the trail.
And never tie a knot in a Guinea Pig‘s tail.
Swing your partner, where’s she gone?
Most fun you can have with all ya clothes on.
Now all join hands and circle wide.
Don’t tread on his boots they are his pride.
Swing your honey, swing her round.
Lift her feet right off the ground.
October's proliferation of bold colors are gloriously on display
Trees crowned and wreathed with russet and bronze leaves
Fruitful are the harvests of grains, bundled in golden sheaves
It's the month when being outdoors invites everyone to play
My heart sings praises to God, for His hand supplies the riches
Cornucopias of gourds and apples for pies, already in the oven
It's the sights and pungent aromas of October that I'm lovin'
There's Halloween candy and broomsticks flying with witches
It's the time of year to wear sweaters when winds are blowing
Weep not for fallen leaves, for they will appear again in Spring
along with the avian flocks, traveling South on fluttering wing
before Winter's gelidity arrives, and suddenly it starts snowing.
~ ~ 10/2/2020 ~ ~
October Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
the berry twins were happy in their patches
no other faeries ever felt they were quite their matches
blueberry faery’s produce was a delight in pies
they were also tasty plain; just ask the fruit flies.
strawberry faery’s produce was tasty in a malt
consumed daily by that imaginative guy named Walt
the other faeries tried to find produce of their own to feature.
The one who almost reached their success was M.R. Reacher
M.R. Reacher was a brownie who claimed peanuts as his own.
They were difficult to grow, not like brambles overgrown.
George Washington Carver made them more of a hit though
When he invented peanut butter, which made that produce glow.
Mystery Pies
Every day the thin old lady comes crying from the bakery
“Hot pies!” ‘Hot fresh pies!”
With a young wide smile on the cobble stone streets
Her wagon filled with savory treats of saffron pumpkin pies
Assorted aromas rise to the horizon as she hobbles down the road
There is always a surprise, a mystery or two
Children throw their pennies and beg for clues
The old woman bakes a different kind of pie each day
To add to her selections on the cart
Today is Sunday so she baked a special prayer like pie
It has a sinful cinnamon chocolate crust with cherries inside
This reminds the town folk to be pure, to think about virginity.
Don’t ask me why
I’m not from this vicinity
Created on 10/08/14 for Plentitude Of Pies – Poetry Contest
Autumn sun’s shimmering light, glorifies the day’s finale, at the top of the road, a beacon of fall.
Through golden leaves, which are swiftly whisking off the proud oak’s strong-held branches,
Alive with gentle glitzy touches of orange, and an occasional glimpse of yellow turning to red,
The leaves land in the ditch, cushioning themselves as they land, happily joining their cousins,
Giggling and laughing silently, unaware they will be damp, and cold, curling brown and stiff soon.
The bottom leaves have already discovered the corpse of the raccoon but they keep their counsel,
Not wanting to distress the top layers, who are still optimistically leaping from the oak, in joy.
End of September, life turning into death, and back into life, one season birthing the next,
A dance understood and appreciated by the oak, who has seen this dance longer than most.
End of September, a beautiful time of pumpkin pies and Mason Jars full of apple butter.
Larders full to bursting, a fantastic harvest, optimism at its height, the magnificent autumn dance.
Written 9-24-2018 End of September Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Brian Strand
pork pie
I had gone to a poetry meeting
the organizer had supplied pork pie and tea
Nothing was expected of me, all I had to do
was to nod my head sagely and applaud
the readers.
A female poet of sweet verses saw me
putting pork pies in my pocket, we got talking
she offered to drive me home
but since I didn't have a home, we drove to hers
I ended up staying there until spring
when ducks in the pond fly to a secret place
for their spring break
I took the train to another town and quickly
got a job as a doorman at a posh restaurant
On the other side of my workplace, a small
cake shop where I sat before my shift and met
Yesmin, the love of my life
Charity should not replace dignity
Peaceful time to reflect and pray
A time to appreciate life
Enjoy some of autumn's harvest
Savor pecan and apple pies
A time to appreciate life
Twenty-four hours to thank God
Gifts of wonderful kin and friends
Who fill our moments and hearts
Enjoy some of autumn's harvest
Sweet potato souffle's flavor
Fresh cranberry-orange relish
God's abundance with a sweet flair
Savor pecan and apple pies
Shared with happy smiling faces
God in His goodness let us live
To embrace Thanksgiving again
Inspired by Debbie Guzzi's contest
Written: October 17, 2015
4 line stanzas, 8 syllables per line, does not have to rhyme
In late September, autumn days begin,
although the summer's warmth may linger on.
The shortening of days will signal time
to gather fall's abundant harvest feasts.
The orchard's full with ripe apples galore;
we fill our baskets up with our fresh pick.
Aromas from sweet, luscious pies uplift –
replace the perfume of our summer blooms.
Progression's slow as days become more cool;
wet days ahead with bouts of rain or sleet.
The colored crispness of bright fallen leaves
help soften loss of summer's golden days.
And soon when we awake in early morn
we see hoar frost on railings and dried leaves.
When shivering begins on morning walks,
we are aware that autumn's now at home.
Late autumn can present us with surprise
of summer warmth or windy winter chill.
Most likely she will gift to us light snow
for icy fingers quick to brush away.
As lovely summer slides into the fall
our minds adjust to seasons' varied whims.
The longed-for warmer days flew quickly by
to open up the path for Autumn's blaze.
Sandra M. Haight
~6th Place~
Contest: Seasonal
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
Judged: 09/29/2015
T'was the day of Thanksgiving,
All was nice and set;
We never had a clue,
As to what we would get!
Clara soaked her dentures,
There, at our table;
Pete sat in the rocker,
And began to watch cable
The aroma of turkey,
Seeped through our door;
Stirring up bellies,
Like never before
Those who were family,
Invited their friends;
Our mother was gracious,
And kindly let them in
With elbows on the table,
No one cared to pray;
We were destined for trouble,
Upon that very day
The turkey was gobbled,
Cranberry stuffing too;
Pumpkin pies were missing,
What on earth did we do?!
Football on the flat screen,
They were packed in our den;
Where's the resemblence?
They don't look like my kin!
Grandpa's on the sofa,
Bless his weary heart;
GREAT GOSH ALMIGHTY!!
He just ripped a fart!
Papa was fuming,
He began to shed a tear;
One of those mongrels,
Drank up his beer!
Kissin' and huggin',
Beyond the bathroom door;
Folks were gettin' busy,
On the tile of our floor!
Continued in Part II...