Long Snacks Poems
Long Snacks Poems. Below are the most popular long Snacks by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Snacks poems by poem length and keyword.
Family banquet
Happy setting;
Catchup conversations
Mahjong session
Strategic thinking;
Anticipate counter moves
Good game going
Card pieces form;
Deter and block
Share a witty point
Cause and effect;
Laughter echoes here
Share assorted news
Happenings of late;
Snacks to go along
Improvise card sequence
Make a quick move;
Sense repercussions
Nice sound to cards
Discarded like bait;
Then the winning stroke
Mahjong like chess
Is about quick thinking;
Luck funds the gameplan
Family setting
Play for four hours;
Luck is fickle
Leon Enriquez
16 August 2014
Singapore
Are you a fan of fur friend liberation,
Across our great lucky nation?
If only we had intercommunication,
Between every species on Earth,
We'd understand each other's worth,
Do you believe in what we're taught,
That animals have no abstract thought?
Indeed, how do we know this?
Is it all a load of blip?
Do dogs pass over into Puppy Heaven? I ask,
Believing it's for 'good boys', their task,
Their certain and sure hope of resurrection,
Somewhere with snacks and toys in Heaven,
Loving their owners just the same,
Abstract thoughts, is that the game?
True interspecies communication,
Dreaming on, in this lucky nation!
???THE ROAD TO HEAVEN AND HELL???
The road to heaven feels like hell,
When discipline calls, and I must compel,
My body soaks sweat, my soul safes strive,
In the gym's dead ends, my spirit comes alive.
The weights are heavy, the reps are tight,
But with each lift, I feel heaven's light,
Light of a stronger me, a soul set free,
From the chains of slothfulness & lethargy.
But the road to hell feels like heaven,
When temptation calls, and I am uneven,
The couch is soft, the snacks are sweet,
And on lazy days, my soul would gladly greet.
The feast is spread, food calls for more rounds,
But in each bite, my health heavily drowns,
In a sea of fatness, and in sugar's snare,
My body weakens, soul's swansong draws near.
The discipline of exercise, a path we should choose,
To forge a strength, that time won't lose,
The road to heaven, though hard to tread,
Leads to a body and soul fitted & well-fed.
While the road to hell, though easy to take,
Leads to a life of slothfulness & heart easy to break.
So I'll choose the fire that burns within,
And walk the path of discipline in order to win.
???VICK MANUEL POETRY???
{VMP}
FORM: Rhymes
Copyright ©? 20th May 2025.
My mood is chosen daily, depending on no one else but me
If I want to feel down, I choose a dark room, heavy snacks, and a TV
If I want to feel uplifted, I bring other folks into the fray....
Get out my paints and put a friend on speaker, and happily paint away
I used to put on music and dance away a sad or somber mood.
But my knees are broken and aged, and no longer have fortitude.
Music makes me feel good, sixties and seventies tunes bring delight.
A sweet afternoon nap, also helps elevate my emotions into the night.
Generating excitement and enthusiasm is also completely up to me.
The first step is to shut off the phone, the noise and the TV.
I go out into nature, and I hop and skip and twirl.
For bees, bunnies, and hollyhocks help me turn back into a girl.
I’m drunk, but you’re beautiful,
a line I used to rehearse.
The Dreamers’ artistic longing felt noble,
but it came with a curse.
I bought the ticket when I didn’t know better from worse.
Now I’ve got a tale of rebellion,
and I’ll share it in verse,
it all changed one Star Wars Day,
when my thirst reversed.
May the Fourth, and I felt matured.
No Padawan—now Jedi Master,
just a little unmoored.
Met some friends inclined for chilled wine,
drinking enough to feel ruthlessly divine.
That hazy day, glazed in the usual sway.
That familiar vortex, melancholy perturbed.
Soles stained deeply by the absurd,
fermented grapes, chaos,
and the dark side assured.
The dark side calls as we sit with the thirst,
but Skywalker’s force starts thinking first:
“Unlearn what you have learned.”
Yoda’s wisdom, unrehearsed.
I needed a change, something absolute.
Had to break old habits
and reroute my pursuit.
Flip the script, exit the Aristotle loop.
We can still have fun.
Still embrace the absurd.
Someone said, “It’s Star Wars Day,”
and a spark then occurred.
We found a weird café,
celebrating in cosplay,
and somewhere in that moment,
a new hope was incurred.
Arriving at the venue, a little out of town, we found the clan,
Princess Leia sold us tickets on the door deadpan,
no droids allowed, no stormtroopers,
but there was a sandman,
Inside were Wookies at the bar, slamming shots like my mum can.
Han Solo in carbonite poster hanging on the wall,
Kids having lightsaber fights with bar stools, humming bishoooom loudly down the hall.
Glass cabinets with falcons and dioramas were neat.
Cantina soundtrack playing curiously on repeat,
Grabbed snacks, Empires on screen, so we found a seat.
We wandered deeper past merch and collector cases,
through aisles of toys and cosplayed faces.
The type of folk draw to these kind of conventions,
You know the type without me having to mention,
They filled the room with joy beyond pretension,
I watched them just be, and I wanted that,
but I found I had to be patient.
I don’t have to keep falling for the trap,
it’s not just escape, it must be more pure.
I lost a friend that day, and yeah, it’s still sore.
He bowed out—boozehound chasing the score,
while I found experience, absurdity, and something more secure.
At noon, most people eat lunch.
They aren’t hiding.
At 12:30, they are heading back to their desks, and sighing heavily.
I’m breathing too much.
I’ll have a quick panic attack.
With just the sounds of shuffling and teeth chattering.
In here.
A closet with a broom.
A dark room, I am in.
I’m as stoic as the broom, in this room.
I could be eating.
I used to like eating.
At 12:35.
Lunch is over.
It’s time to punch back in.
Punching in doesn’t make a sound.
But it still wakes me up.
Dull, eyes open, stirring.
I had a quick panic attack.
In a closet, ten feet from here.
I wish I didn’t…
Miss out on snacks in the breakroom-
But I don’t have time, like I used to.
I also wish I didn’t have panic attacks…
I can barely type, I can barely sit right.
I feel wild, and spinning, and adventurous!
Keeping the secret another day.
As hard as it is.
Makes me feel scared.
Makes me feel proud.
Watched a first-run movie
From the comfort of my couch,
An experience to which
So many folks could likely vouch.
You can’t beat the convenience
And the snacks my kitchen holds,
Plus the fact that I can pause things,
Even as the plot unfolds.
There’s no outerwear to deal with
And no bus or cab or train
And it doesn’t matter if, outside,
There’s cold or snow or rain.
Yet I kind of miss the theaters
Crammed with fellow movie buffs,
Though, at times, your seatmates seemed like
Slobs or boors or lowlife scruffs.
Yes, I know I can return to
Those few theaters that exist,
But when Netflix has a current film,
It’s too hard to resist.
The sinking sun is now undone,
the sky is fading red
and shadows prowl neath cloak and cowl
for midnight lies ahead.
Beyond the heap, the honchos sleep
with bloated bellies fed;
for, yes indeed, no one's in need,
at least, that's what they've said.
Amongst the ones that hunger shuns,
in day's retreating tread,
are spiders black ensnaring snacks
while spinning silken thread.
But as it stands, in conquered lands
a famine reigns instead
where kids at noon, collapse and swoon
on stones they call a bed.
With aching eyes they fantasize
and dream of gingerbread,
and after while, they wake and smile,
now dining with the dead.
Tribute to the Rains
And then it finally came
What was very much sought
And what was most needed
As people even prayed for
Eventually, the rains did arrive
Coming as it did in a flurry
Consuming with it all anxiety,
Uncertainty, the heat and dust
In whatever shape it did land
As speedy drizzle or brazen shower;
Noisy downpour continued all nights,
With lightning and thunder
Hurtling down came the stormy rain
With gale and gusty winds, splashing,
Causing muddy pools and rolling floods;
Hurriedly filling up lakes and reservoirs
Wishes grew, for it to be regular
Each year and round the year; enough,
For that alone would mean, growth
And bring in, wealth and happiness
And thus it raised the hopes of farmers
From communities far and wide; who,
Ever so expectant gazed at the sky:
For rains alone made their crops thrive
For Flora and Fauna to bloom manifold
As pastures and fields spring back to life
Plants and trees turning to refreshing green
As marshy lands all get wet and soaked
At long last the Rain Gods had scampered in
Bringing with it promises of plenty and cheer;
Making the air clean and pollutants free
And ushering in climate for a comfort spree
Children rushed to get drenched for fun
While others chose to cuddle in the bed
A delight that's been quite forgotten
For rains brought thrill to all age brethren
It often inspired families to stick together
And munch crispy snacks chattering together;
With a myriad of thoughts and dreams
And alas life for man got all set to zoom!
It didn't really matter how rains showed up
Through a 'cyclone' or a ‘depression’
All it did was to arrive in style and substance;
To the stupendous amazement of all asunder
Whether in torrents or in spate
Raindrops did charge the water bodies
Making insects and worms come alive
For birds to flutter and butterflies to swarm
The wonder of this refreshing shower
Instantly thrilled my heart with heavenly beat,
And thoughts pleasantly ebbed in my mind
To string words together and sing in praise
Great God indeed; did this resource, bless,
For bereft of it; all life shall be a thing of past
And with it the journey of all living things
May well see the light of millenniums ahead!
A little one, bright and true,
A topper in studies, talents too.
On stage a star, in play a spark,
Running and jumping from dawn till dark.
Her dream was tall, her steps so fleet,
Grandfather said, “An athlete to beat!”
Like P. T. Usha she longed to be,
Strong as the wind, forever free.
Friendly in heart, with hands open wide,
Inviting her friends to laugh by her side.
Snacks and tea, a joyful spree,
Moments of love in simple glee.
The postman’s knock—she’d run with cheer,
Letters for family, she’d hold them near.
She never opened, for well she knew,
Each word was personal, each line was true.
She carried replies with careful pride,
Dropping them neatly in the box outside.
Yet in her heart a wish did stay,
For pen friends she had read of one day.
Then autumn came with surprise so sweet,
A violet grape purple envelope neat.
On Children’s Day, her name it bore,
A gift of love she had longed for.
From a family friend, a teacher kind,
Who carried blessings in heart and mind.
A greeting card, with wishes deep,
And a hundred rupees for her to keep.
A message of hope, of love, of cheer,
For a bright, long, intellectual year.
That violet grape purple envelope rare,
Became her treasure beyond compare.