Long Snack Poems
Long Snack Poems. Below are the most popular long Snack by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Snack poems by poem length and keyword.
I stand on the highway of hope getting ready for the train to go on a trip to the mountain sphere, the passengers are pouring in, the seats are filling up, and everyone is in a mad rush. What on earth is going on? The passengers have been here before the break of dawn and excitement is all over the lawn. The cities and towns are flooded with lights and everyone has made an early sacrifice, smiles and laughter are everywhere and the people have nothing to fear. The highway of hope is taking me to the show, you can get an all-inclusive ticket wherever you go; you have a ticket for the train ride, the theatre, restaurant, cinema, the football games or just to go jogging up the lane. You have tickets to go shopping or to work out at the gym; there is a bus and a train for everything and there is one reserved only for music, singing and dancing. You can ride the bus or train any time of the day and your mornings and evening will never waste away, every ticket you buy will contribute to the blue sky and your donations will not die. Meet me at the highway of hope and I will show you where to go, the mood has change and joy is spreading everywhere. If you have nothing to do, put some snack in a bag and join the picnic train, and view all the terrain. The goal is to make a million in an hour and leave the sorrows in the showers. You will have something formidable to look forward to at the end of the day and your burdens and stress will surely roll away. Come with me to the highway of hope and join, the campaign fundraising train .Every ticket you buy will raise my ambition; every train you ride will elevate you to the sky, the numbers are growing and the passengers are swelling and my life has just begun. I have five-dollar tickets, ten-dollar ticket, a thousand- dollar tickets and any money tickets. There is a bus and train for every price and someone to show you how to roll the dice. If you don’t want to ride the train, the bus will do the same; a hundred bus and a hundred train is parked up on the highway of hope in every state so buy your tickets and join the masquerade. The goal is to make a hundred and fifty million dollars a day in the all inclusive bus and train ride on the highway of hope in all the fifty states so join the fundraising effort before it's too late.
Meet me on the highway of hope anytime of the day and don't delay.
Twas the night before Christmas and all were in need
as we waited for Santa who had promised us Weed.
Our parents were sleeping with not a clue in their heads
that their children were Stoners and away from their beds.
The cheetos had been placed on the table with care
with an idea dear Santa soon would be there.
The winter was cold with no time for a snack
hoping Kris Kringle would come with fresh Pot from his sack.
I had been to the Bank and had obtained hordes of cash
with a fervent desire St. Nick would bring the best of his Stash.
We had our concerns for a reasonable fellow
who was honest and straight... no harshing our mellow.
The time had been set as I looked at the clock
knowing the waiting was tense and we needed our Pot.
And then from the porch a strange sound did we hear
but it was only friend Jim who had gone for some beer.
I stared out the window and peered through the snow
and we were greatly concerned whether Santa would show.
And then from the street... what did I observe?
A '72 ford Pinto... which was stuck on the curb.
The engine was smoking and the tires were flat
and with the windows quite frosted... I reached for my bat.
This didn't look good as I gave way to doubt.
Wondering who was the driver and who would come out?
And who should come forth? But Santa himself
who was all bearded and fat, a jolly old Elf.
He climbed to our rooftop... was nimble and quick
thus avoiding the doorbell... this fella was slick.
He was now in the chimney and this lightened our hearts
and we knew he was close when we heard the Elf fart.
And then in an instant the Big Guy appeared
but asking double the price for which we had feared.
We told him our troubles as he pondered our point,
he then lowered the price on every third Joint.
The payment was made and the dope was obtained
and up the chimney he rose unconcerned for the flame.
I'll remember that night... for it was a doozy
when Santa came through... and brought me a Doobie.
As he drove out of sight... I heard him calling my name...
Merry Christmas to all and goodnight Mary Jane.
The End
*For those who are interested. I will be posting my cartoon 'Bob's your Uncle' on my homepage. A new one will appear every second day.
It's been so long ago since we both shared and parted company.
I can't even recall if you had a name.
If only you knew just how much you had meant to me.
Maybe you did. Maybe you felt the same.
I remember the day when we first met.
There you were enjoying the snack
that I had left for you or any one of your wild neighbors,
but it was you feasting that morning in my trap.
I was a kid who would humanely trap the occasional wildlife
then I’d keep them around for a while
in a large pen I had made
with the comforts of food, water and shade,
then I’d set them free again back into the wild.
Every captured animal I released, though I treated all royally
whenever they happened to be my captured guest,
would sprint back into their habitat with such eagerness to be Free,
But You Hung Around. You were not like the rest.
You and I were met by most with looks of amazement and bewilderment.
I was also no longer the helpless kid bullied by every punk.
Word quickly spread around
to all the bullies in town,
“Don’t mess with that kid who has the pet skunk.”
I won’t mention your name, Mr. Bully of Town Fame,
but do you happen to recall the day
when you and your group of punk friends
ambushed me yet once again,
but this time it was all of you who ran away ?
Such brave little cowards all of you were
as you all approached me with that look in your eyes.
You know the look that I mean.
It’s the look that was before long, no longer a surprise.
It was the look that says, “Look At Me ! I’m MEAN!!”
It was the look that said to me,
“This can only once again end painfully.
It’s Time Once Again For All Of Them To Beat Up On Me.”
You took one major good swing to my jaw and,
Oh yes, by the way,
my jaw didn’t work properly for many days after,
but I’d experience it again multiple times more,
if that were possible to explore
just to experience once again my joy and laughter.
That was the one and only punch that you landed on me,
And Then The Next Thing I Knew,
You were all crying and running away all frantically.
My Nameless Pet Skunk Skunked The Hell Out Of All Of You!!!
*
My Nameless Pet Skunk Will Always Be
A Very Special Part Of My Childhood History.
By now you're most probably R I P my little skunk buddy.
I remember our good bye, a bittersweet cherished memory,
when you returned back to the wilderness to once again live wild and free.
*
(Originally wrote it as a song, but I like it like this as well.)
A shooting star
make a wish,
give me a kiss
on the hood of the car
I taste your lips,
it's the sweetest thing.
We're all alone
while the crickets sing.
With staring eyes,
see glowing fire-flies.
And shooting stars light up the skies.
A perfect night
with a gentle breeze
whistling through the trees.
It feels so right
as tensions ease.
So relaxed
just lay back
and taste the fruit
our peaches snack.
While feelings rise
and shooting stars light up our skies.
That fresh air scent
so good to your nose
catches on our clothes.
A night well spent,
together with you.
It's just us two,
The moon shining bright,
it's our only light.
While on this night,
in the grass we lye
as shooting stars light up the sky.
Crashing waves,
soothing beachfront sounds
wash out our sandcastle mounds.
Could stay for days,
on this sandy beach.
See the stars we reach
over the ocean sees.
And on the tides
it never dies.
Is what we realize
as shooting stars light up our skies.
Our quiet hill,
with no more racket.
Just a picnic basket.
The wind is still
under a tree.
Just you and me
eat off your belly.
So, so happy.
We wait till night
right before sunrise.
To watch the shooting stars light up the skies.
A shooting star.
Makes a light so bright,
it lights up the night.
Now here we are.
Lost in love
the kind you only dream of.
On the hood of the car.
To forever feel like this,
is what I make my wish.
When you wish upon,
a shooting star.
The time's eleven eleven.
A meteor shower
on the top of the hour.
Your smile is heaven
and you aim it at me.
It's all I see
a good memory
while you hold the key,
to me inside.
Fills me with butterflies
while shooting stars light up our skies.
Just us two
no one else around
your voice the sweetest sound.
I say to you,
that I love you.
You say you love me too,
while you take my hand.
Our toes buried in the sand.
Get lost in your eyes,
completely mesmerized
as shooting stars light up the skies.
Shooting stars,
hoods of cars,
late night wishes,
lighthouse kisses.
The moments ours,
just go with it.
Sunday picnics,
one way tickets.
And I got my wish it
all started with just one kiss.
How I love the taste of your lips.
Transitions and Contrasts: Just like the Seasons
Scorching, sweltering, drying, draining
The Candle of the Sky, now a supernova
Chirping birds cry out for drops of draught,
The strays of streets too, dying or suffering.
The poor farmer’s heart, broken,
Like his dry and barren field and feet.
His wife’s sweaty palms trying to support
The pot on her head, and the babe on her hip;
Her anchal over her face, trying in vain,
To shield it from heat and dust.
Fifty miles away,
The businessman complained,
His AC is not good enough, and he can’t sleep.
Then the rains come down,
Soaking the land, pleasing the heart.
Kids splashing and screaming,
Coffee mugs and snack trays steaming,
Isn’t it time for music and romance?
But the single mother who couldn’t go to work,
Worried about her leaking roof
And her child’s still wet school uniform.
Spring came, colours and flowers,
Is there a fragrance always in the air?
Butterflies and dragonflies shimmering,
It’s time for festivals, (is it Onam yet?)*
Shouldn’t there be new clothes and feasts?
Oh, but no one back home, no one remains.
And for the grandpa who is alone in the bungalow,
What for is Onam if he is alone?
Winter comes with lights, gifts and carols.
Shimmering stars, bells and beauty.
Christmas and New Year,
Glory to God and Peace on earth,
Beauty and smiles; love and hope,
But is there a hope for the freezing homeless
Their hunger and longing
For bread and lodging?
Autumn stood there, silent witness,
Forgotten, yet calm and composed.
Trying to get rid of the scorching heat,
Before the squall and cold numbness come.
And they repeat year after year,
Never letting the world forget,
All is dynamic,
Constant in its inconsistency
.We puny mortals, mere actors, observers,
Too turn sentimental, passionate and cold.
Shed tears like the monsoon,
Turn angry like summer,
Cold like the winter
And fragrant like the spring.
We see the pain around,
Sometimes lament, sometimes turn angry,
Often be apathetic but still hope for Spring.
*Onam is the spring festival of Kerala, a state in India which also marks reunion of families and
nostalgia for home. In the urbanised world often this gets ignored as family
reunions rarely happen, therefore dampening the spirit of the festival.
I just can’t wait till Christmas
I just can’t wait till Christmas
With thoughts of ice and snow
And Santa in his bright red suit
Shouting ho ho ho.
Flying with his reindeer
With presents on his sleigh
Delivering them all by midnight
For us on Christmas day.
We put lights and bobbles on the tree
We do it every year
And a sign post in the garden
That says Santa please stop here.
He comes right down our chimney
With presents in his sack
And we leave him milk and cookies
So he can have a snack.
I wonder what I`ll get this year
As I know just what I’d like
I hope I get a scooter
A skateboard or a bike.
We`ll dress our dogs like reindeer
In little reindeer suits
Put little antlers on their heads
And four black shiny boots,
Listening to our favourite songs
Played by a big brass band
As we take a trip to Edinburgh
Through the winter wonder land.
Hats and scarves and gloves on
As we wrap up nice and tight
With the markets lights and funfair
It`s really quite a site.
Merry go round and rollercoaster’s
And a ride on the Christmas train
The big wheel and Santa`s grotto
Then we do it all again.
Everyone’s on holiday
And their faces all aglow
Their worries left behind them
Like footprints in the snow.
Crepe`s and chocolate pancakes
And strawberries on a stick
Sweets and treats and doughnuts
And I get to take my pick.
But my favourite is the great big tree
That`s too big for my home
And it really smells like Christmas
As we go inside the dome.
With lights and decorations
Like you`ve never seen before
They`ve travelled the world just for a glimpse
And they`re queued right out the door.
With winding vines of holly
Around the pillars it does grow
And no matter what the weather
They always have some snow.
Then Christmas day is best of all
With presents under the tree
There is some for mum and some for dad
But most of them for me.
Unwrapping all my presents
And nothing has been missed
I got everything I wanted
On my Christmas list.
Everyone comes for dinner
And dad fills up his belly
Then snores for an hour on the couch
As were watching Christmas telly.
Now I just can’t wait for Christmas
As I count the days and pray
But mum just shakes her head
And says its only boxing day.
Ever been treated like you’re a slice of cake?
By the kind of sleazy men that slither like a snake?
They’re not the type to give
They’re the kind that always take.
Know your worth, be strong, pay attention, stay awake.
This is what I say to men who think they are so slick.
“I’m a lady, not a hoe, a slice, a treat, a chick.
Go away, get lost, quit acting like a trick.
I'm not the one to buy your lines that you spread on so thick.
I’m not some fresh baked cake that you can get a slice.
I’m not some frosting that you can sample anytime you like.
Even though you talk sweet, I know you’re nothing nice.
Play with fire and get burned, Cheat and pay the price.
You say I’m pretty and I’m sweet
That I look good enough to eat
You haven't tried to hide your lust
You haven't tried to be discreet.
Oh?!? a little bit this
And a little bit of that?
A generic compliment here...
Predictable flattery there?
A married man with an appetite
A piece of me, a taste, a bite
You talk about warm biscuits
Parted and buttered
As you stare at me.
You say I'm a hot dish
But don't you mean a side item?
Fast food?
In and out burger?
Did I offer myself...
Coffee, tea, me?
You want a dining experience
But this ain't Burger King!
You can't have it your way
I'm not a drive through
I'm not an order you grab to go
You can't stuff me in your mouth
Then burp out loud
Little pieces of me flying out
as you go about your day.
Why eat out?
That’s not what marriage is all about
Your spouse should be the only meal
A balanced dinner, that’s the deal
In the privacy of your home
But still you’re on the prowl and roam.
You say you only want a slice
And take no thought about my life.
You eat, wipe your mouth
Then say you've done no wrong.
But you're selfish and self-centered
That’s why I must be strong.
I’m not your food, set on a tray
Prepared for you to go filet
I’m not a snack that you can taste
Half consumed then left to waste.
Sugar-coated, insincere
Across the room you drool and leer.
You’re hungry, and you think I’m food
Weren’t you raised to know that’s rude?
I think the messqge here is clear
Im not a woman to be feared
I only ask you for respect
Or keep on going and forget
I hope one day you understand
Compared with us, the kids today
Too little play and too much weigh.
Alone indoors they snack and sit
And buttons hit, while we stayed fit.
We'd quickly chores and homework do,
Then dash through doors to fun pursue,
To basketballs and arrows shoot,
To jump with ropes, and footballs boot.
We'd earthworms dig for fishing bait,
On scooters glide, and roller skate.
We'd hopscotch, seesaw, chase. and swing
And boomerangs and frisbees fling.
We'd tackle, dribble, leap, and throw.
We'd tunnel through and shovel snow.
In haystacks dive and wagons ride,
On ice and into bases slide.
We'd whittle wood and baskets weave
And pennies pitch and horseshoes heave.
We'd yank the strings so tops would spin,
When wrestling, try to shoulders pin.
We'd kindling fetch and firewood chop,
Inflate balloons to later pop,
Sink numbered balls in billiard halls,
And topple pins with bowling balls.
We'd weekly swim at downtown Y,
Our kites and model airplanes fly,
We'd darts and putts and marbles aim,
With lens or flint set twigs aflame.
We'd sneak beneath the sideshow tents,
Climb ropes and poles and chain link fence.
We'd hike and camp with scouting troops,
Rotate our hips in hula hoops.
We garden weeded, hosed, and tilled,
We'd soap box car and treehouse build,
At picnics joined the tug-of-war,
And barefoot romp when rain would pour.
We raced on stilts and pogo sticks,
Made pies of mud, our pets taught tricks,
Were paper, pin, and altar boys,
Ignored complaints of too much noise.
For caddie tips, we'd golf bags lug;
To jukebox records, jitterbug.
We'd carpets beat, played kick-the-can,
Collected rocks, and errands ran.
To school and back on foot we tread,
Down steepest hills and alleys sled,
Played pitch-and-catch in yard with Dad,
Pushed mower that no motor had.
We'd rake the leaves and chestnuts crack
And toddlers carry piggyback.
With feather pillows fight in bed,
Our cap guns fire, and fall down dead.
We'd wildly flail at punching bag
And batted balls and passes snag.
We'd zig and zag, avoiding tag,
Till tuckered out, we'd homeward drag.
No trophies or applause we'd get.
Our play was real, not internet.
To kids today, I this advise:
Get off your butts and exercise!
I shared my bed with a dog last night…her name is Juniper…
There is a very logical reason I shared my bed with her.
Juniper is our youngest son Ryan and his fiancé’s dog…a source of their pride and joy…who can chase a ball for hours…who still plays with doggie toys.
Who even though she’s a full grown dog still has a lot of puppy in her.
Who in the morning loves to eat her breakfast…and lets you know when it’s time for dinner
When Amy’s 96 year old grandmother passed away after a long and wonderful life…which to the family was still too brief…we asked Amy if there was anything we could do to help to assuage her grief.
Of course love and support are all we can offer…each person deals with grief in their own way…but she asked if we’d watch Juniper while she and Ryan were away.
We said of course…we’d be happy for Juniper to come for an overnight stay
So the next morning they dropped her off…thanked us and then went on their way
When they left we we made sure not to make a ruckus, not to cause a commotion or too much of a fuss…Realizing although we both knew who Juni was…she really didn’t know us.
She must have been wondering…the two people she loves…where in the world did they go….and why did they leave me in this strange house with two people I don’t know.
She kept looking at the door…every time it opened a crack…
Hoping, I imagine, for Ryan and Amy to come back.
So to help her cope with the situation….to accept her confusing paradigm….
we let her snack a little more than normal…and threw her ball a thousand times.
We did the best we could to let her know everything would be all right…
One of us stayed home at all times…so she could keep us in her sight.
We gave her love, we exercised her, we kept her safe and warm and fed…
but she was still a little nervous when it came time for to bed.
So after a small discussion Deborah and I agreed
That I’d sleep in the spare bedroom and take Juniper with me.
I think Juni understood…as she matched me stride for stride…
and before I even invited her up…she was sleeping by my side.
I think sometimes we forget how our pets can be affected by a family tragedy…
Which is why I shared my bed with Juniper last night…
and why we both slept so peacefully
...The bigfoot poked out again the next day
with the little one not that far behind,
came lunch time Julio put out apples,
before each he would stop and make the sign.
He did this for days, an entire week,
each day the two creatures came for the snack,
then one day he kept the fruit in the bag,
the beasts got anxious for what they now lacked.
The older sasquatch was agitated,
but Julio just made the sign with his hands,
the beast hooted and growled, still upset,
though the little one seemed to understand.
He tried his best to mimic the motion,
so Julio tossed an apple to him,
the mother then noticed, she did the same,
so he gave one to her with a grin.
From that day onwards, when on his lunch break,
he’d make a sign and point at an object,
the creatures learned fast, and got their rewards,
even seemed eager for what they’d learn next.
For many weeks this pattern repeated,
until one day Julio ran out of spruce,
the crews would come soon with trailer and truck
to pick up the trunks and put them to use.
Julio figured that the job was done,
so he went home to rest up for a bit,
didn’t think he’d see a sasquatch again,
until one night when his dog threw a fit.
He walked to the back door, where the dog barked,
determined to see what caused all the fuss,
in his backyard he saw shaggy, black forms,
in disbelief he shook his head, awe-struck.
The two bigfoots had followed him on back,
and they signed for him to come talk to them,
with a shrug he went out, signed to them ‘hello,’
and like that the friendship started again.
It’s even said that they learned some syntax,
and pronouns, the younger one claimed a name;
that the juvenile outpaced the mother,
the plasticity of youth in his brain.
For twenty years they lived near Julio,
until the female passed on from old age,
two years later cancer took the logger,
no one knowing the breakthroughs he’d made.
Now I know that this tale must come as a shock,
most didn’t think sasquatches could exist,
but now that you speak of who gets credit
I had to come forwards and insist
That all remember the lonely logger,
that you put his name on the walls.
Julio Jones taught my mother to sign,
that’s how I can even talk to you at all.