Long Schnoz Poems
Long Schnoz Poems. Below are the most popular long Schnoz by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Schnoz poems by poem length and keyword.
I felt his little wrinkled nose pressing through the snow, just when I thought I was all alone, under this lovely quilt so bright. I’m tougher than I look; I can be broken. Let the cold freeze his selfish schnoz! The psychiatrist did say I have an anger problem, he called me a nut - I told him to leap from this tree and to my amazement he did. His swan dive was amazing, swirling and twirling, but darn, he landed on those lazy leaves.
I prefer to think of myself in poetic words, I am the fruit of the oak. I’m leather-tough and my body’s shaped like a cup. I’m practically perfect.
The bully-birds picked on my brothers and sisters. They came close to me a couple of times, but the kindly wind swept them away, their tail feathers ruffled.
In the Autumn I fell, landed hard - my bum bruised and an impish human threw me into a basket. I was humiliated as I dashed against John Does. He took us up, lined us up like army men - should I salute, I wondered.
His mother called him in; the wind came with a cold shoulder this time, brushed me off. Then this bitter storm of white flakes frightened me. I fought the shiver - over time I became warm under confectionary powder.
My future grim - I see now I shan’t become a tree. I reside inside another living thing - adieu adieu. I close my eyes as I am chewed. I leave this note beside my cocoon. Remember me, mon amie as you look up.
4/29/2020
The Last Acorn Poetry Contest
Sponsor: John Lawless
Jingle bells
and reindeer smells --
note to Mrs. Clause:
before Eve-trip, to reduce
scent and slip, no beer
and sardines for Rudolph!
That damn Guiding Red-nose
needs to find other fuel for
his radiant beam-glows! (takes a lot
to piss-off Santa)
It was a foul dilemma:
Every time Dancer, Donner and Blitzen
rose, Santa was forced to awkwardly stretch and
pinch each tortured, dutiful nose; poor deer, eyes
stinging and runny (not the least bit funny)
(Rudolph laughing like a ridiculous fool) (Santa
thinking, next year, to take his place, perhaps a
levitating green-schnoz mule)
fumes causing the team to terribly
blink -- every inch higher, a half inch
lower the sled would breathlessly sink --
Note to Mrs. Clause: especially disallow,
one last huge, gulp for the long cold road -- that
parting toast proved particularly disastrous to Santa's
precious gift load,
when the old saint paused to
light his pipe: Rudolf let loose with
one extraordinarily ripe -- when the match was
struck, ignited the night, flaming presents needing
no additional lift to literally take brilliant flight --
A Christmas to remember
when Rudolf went on a Sardine, Beer
Bender.
An infinitesimal slight speck tickled
nostril follicle – activated via an itty
bitty, nitty gritty dirt band noah bigger
than a mole luck yule set in motion a
chain reaction, whence mine sensitive
proboscis honker (wheeze - hilly little
bridged fine tuned pug nose aroma
sensor), got unexpectedly in gauged
(in holy matt trim mo’ knee) to achew,
and eschew pledging troth (in favor of
hanky-panky) found this chap feeling
phlegmatic because an endless string
of faux allergic emanations, which
upon subsiding left me throat rather
raspy and voice some octaves deeper
akin to a coterie of celebrated jumping
frogs from Calaveras County, California
took residence and refused leaving
stranglehold upon math rote upon
awakening from a hard day’s journey
into night across the outer limits
of thine twilight zone resurrected
during slumber, yet upon awakening
felt much refreshed and hungry enough
to eat a horse – nee – make that forced
whore – gulped down within a hoof
n hour and now recount how back in
the day when zooming thru the Lilies
of the Valley (whooshing mass elf tubby
an aeroplane) frequent bouts with uber
twittering snapchatting sinus attacks
besieged crinkled, doppelganger expeller
for germs hunting with his clean X
instantaneously for nasal passages
to enter surreptitiously the fecund
effluvia dripping, oozing, and seeping
clear liquid as wintry cold air looses
droplets from out a near frozen nose,
which bloke knows not why frigid blast
stimulates gallimaufry of sniffling
to spurt into a volume of one after
another gesundheit donning, snorting
trumpeting unwittingly confusing
Canadian geese, who misconstrue
the honking from midway centered
facial organ, which angry birds
in tandem with flock of Seagulls
quite perturbed to espy one curmudgeon
chap clapping hands over (what feels
like Smashing Pumpkins on face)
in an effort to stifle subsequent gummy
emissions, which residue expectorated
with heave hoe shove
schnoz el tov blowing into snot-rag.
Thinking of girls in my life back then
Searching for beauty was no use
I'm sure one was from a horror movie
She possessed the appeal of a moose!
Promised I wouldn't mention names
But her first initial is Thelma
Had a huge wart on the tip of her nose
Gorgeous? What can I tell ya!
Let me explain 'bout that lovely schnoz
It was as long as from here to Tuesday
Protruding teeth, was missing a few
Just a little off white... good news eh!
Her eyes were kinda distracting too
Each looked in a different direction
Hair was stringy and different lengths
Blue lipstick and a very bad complexion!
So all in all, I guess you might say
Wasn't one of your ravishing beauties
Body odour like that of a koala
But as far as I could tell, no cooties!
Had some redeeming features though
She possessed a heart of pure gold
Would donate the shirt right off her back
Problem was it was smelly and old!
Sure could pick 'em way back when
Her daddy was worth a few million
So to me, Thelma was a raving beauty
Now my wife and I'm worth gazillions!
© Jack Ellison 2015
“What exactly are you?” “I don’t normally ask, but here we are.”
“I am, how do you say in earthling? I am your favorite martian.”
“What big ears, I mean antennas you have! Do they hurt?”
“Only when earthlings talk bad about me..you don’t talk
bad about me, do you, Jim?” he says with a sideways grin.
“Your making me nervous, my favorite…I mean, what is your name.”
“*$&@*&#@*$&#*@, but you can call me Al.”
“Why are you here?”
“Here? Where? Be more specific. Question feels a bit existential.”
“On earth, Al. We are concerned about your reasons for being here.”
“Again, Jim, a bit existential!”
“Do you mean us harm?”
“Do you mean US harm, Jim? That is the real question. There is
only one of me and so many of you earthlings” Al blows his honker.
“Al…Al…ahchoo.”
“What on Mars was that!”
Al hands him a handkerchief with unusual stitching.
“Keep the change, Jim.” he says as he walks away from the interview.
Jim wipes his schnoz with the gift and succumbs to it.
The cows is lowin' in the old corral and all the evenin' chores is done.
Hank scraped the manure off'n his boots 'cause he's a fastidious son-of-a-gun.
He drew his pay, jumped in his pickup and headed fer Clyde's Saloon,
To quaff some brew, grab a gal er two and dance to the fiddler's tune!
There was a hoedown at Clyde's where cowpokes met ever' Saturday night.
There they danced, boozed and let off steam that usually ended in a fight!
There was a band with drums, banjo, fiddle, bass and a steel git-tar,
And the pianer player Mike McGurk (when they could pry him from the bar!)
A gal named Mousy Bush sang with a voice that quivered like Robin Hood's bow.
That's where Hank hung out Saturday nights to blow his hard-earned dough!
Hank was dancin' the Texas Two Step and havin' the time of his life,
When an incident occurred that occasioned another night of strife.
Some dude splattered a Coors on Hank's new Calvin Klein shirt and jeans.
Now, stuff happens and normally this wouldn't amount to a hill of beans,
But this got Hank's dander up and since he never held his hootch all that well,
He punched the guy, bloodied his schnoz and began a-raisin' hell.
A grand brawl ensued with ever'one tossin' punches, chairs and tables.
There was a heap of cussin' with patrons lablin' others with tawdry lables!
Hank arose Sunday mornin' with a poundin' headache and two black eyes,
But he'll be back at Clyde's Saturday next to enjoy a hoedown with the guys!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
(Not for the contest)
At seventy-seven years-plus, my noggin is a barren landscape
that once sprouted a thick crop of chestnut brown hair.
And now, some scattered strands of grey
still sprout here and there, above a fussy hedge
edging my closely cropped terrain.
Proceed further down, and you'll find
a weathered forehead with long furrows
running in parallel horizontal worry lines.
And if you keep descending,
you will come across two bushy brows
resembling wiry bristles in disarray.
Below them, you'll find two, slightly out-of-focus eyes;
bright brown orbs, afloat in a sea of white.
Keep following the sloping curvature of my plump face,
and you'll come across a rugged,
slightly broken schnoz of a nose;
jutting out, in a hawkish sort of way.
Continue down, and you'll see a pair of crinkled lips,
wearing a smug, satisfied smile.
Lower down, you'll find a jutting chin,
dappled with stumps of yesterday's stubble.
Now, step back, and let my features sink in
as they take shape in your thoughts,
and your imagination crafts my image within your mind.
Thinking of girls in my life back then
Searching for beauty was no use
I'm sure one was from a horror movie
She possessed the appeal of a moose!
Promised I wouldn't mention names
But her first initial was Thelma
Had a huge wart on the tip of her nose
Gorgeous? What can I tell ya!
Let me explain 'bout that lovely schnoz
It was as long as from here to Tuesday
Protruding teeth, was missing a few
Just a little off white... good news eh!
Her eyes were kinda distracting too
Each looked in a different directions
Hair was stringy and different lengths
Blue lipstick... a very bad selection!
So all in all, I guess you might say
Not one of your ravishing beauties
Body odour like that of a koala
But as far as I could tell, no cooties!
Had some redeeming features though
She possessed a heart of pure gold
Would donate the shirt right off her back
Problem was it was smelly and old!
Sure could pick 'em way back when
Her daddy was worth a few million
So to me, Thelma was a raving beauty
Now my wife and I'm worth gazillions!
© Jack Ellison 2013
just something fun....
ANDY THE DILLO*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In Texas town where sun brightly shone,
Andy the dillo lives, all alone.
He dreamt of a pretty gal,
one who lives in his locale.
Together the dusty trails they’d roam
When pillaging one starry night
he met Astrid, "Oh! you're outta sight"
A quizzical nose had she
“You're perfect dillo for me!
Let’s eat worms together, they’re a delight!"
With a twirl and a tap of her toes,
she showed dance moves that she knows.
'round and 'round she did spin,
with giggles and a grin.
Then he noticed her rather large schnoz.
“EEEGADS! Where did you get that nose?
With it, the ground you can bulldoze
You’re a dillo extraordinaire.
I’ll follow you anywhere.
Let’s go get some worms at Joe’s!”
*Note: Poem originally published in Poetry Soup in June 2025 (poetrysoup.com/poem/andy_the_armadillo_1738645)> I then deleted it. This is my original poem.
(I'll call him Frosty the Snowperson to be politically correct;
So as to placate sensitive souls, I must be quite circumspect!)
Now that that matter is settled, his ice skating caper I'll relate,
With all the circumstances that led up to poor Frosty's fate!
'Twas on a midnight clear when nary a soul was in sight,
That he spied a pond glistening 'neath the mellow moonlight.
He ventured on the surface not realizing he was on thin ice.
With a muted tinkle the ice gave way and he sank in a trice!
Later was found a pair of ice skates and on the bank a carrot,
The remains of Frosty's schnoz being chomped on by a ferret!
Entry for Sara Kendrick's "The Park Bench At Christmas" Contest
(Photo 5/1 December 2018)