Long Snit Poems
Long Snit Poems. Below are the most popular long Snit by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Snit poems by poem length and keyword.
Kiddies, I'm sorry to say that Santa may be visiting you late this year,
As he struggles to circle the Earth spreading his delightful cheer!
Santa had to retire Rudoloph and his friends leaving them much aggrieved,
And long-suffering Mrs Claus is in a snit and left sorely peeved!
It may be New Years Day before he arrives, but he'll visit you eventually,
So place a snack of cookies and milk or salami and cheese 'neath the tree!
That old grinch in the White House decreed that dear old Santa's sleigh,
Henceforth, must be battery powered, to be effective on this Christmas Day!
Alas, Santa must land every 350 miles or so, the battery to refresh!
(Hopefully, he can do this in such unlikely places as Bangladesh)!
No longer will you hear reindeer hooves dancing on your roof in the snow!
But be patient, little ones; Santa will greet you soon with a cheery ho-ho-ho!
Existence, existing and then
the emptying out, the exit.
X marks the spot
where dots are always laid to rest.
I have been pulling a little red meat wagon
existing just before
its hard rubber wheels,
the wagon goes clickity clack,
snick-itty-snit, bumpety bump
uphill or below,
it is eager to run me down
always keen to bark my heels
as I drag it over a shadow shoulder
of a pre & post
being.
On-board
a self-dissolving, yet always open mouth,
must consume
its spiced drops of acid and honey.
It sometimes sleeps,
sometimes dreams,
it is a presence of a presence,
just a hairsbreadth between
this now, and not now - gulp
of living.
Inevitably, we will part,
separated by the raw knuckles
of push and pull,
until a lit exit door
in a long defunct shopping mall
lights our way
to the promise of oneness.
'Tis glorious springtime agin in Wayne County, Indiana!
(Never mind that a blizzard jes' blew in frum Montana!)
Folks wuz beginnin' to till their gardens to plant pertaters,
And wuz bustin' clods to set out plants uv beefsteak termaters!
Guys is tinkerin' with their mowers though they run in fits and starts.
Shucks! They cain't use 'em nohow till the snow and ice departs!
Folks'll swat at muskeeters searchin' fer elusive morel mushrooms.
All these pesky things will be forgotten if'n ever the peonies blooms!
Cardinals and robins returnin' home by the snow is confused.
Them hearty "snowbirds" comin' back from Floriday ain't amused!
But all too soon they'll face the stiflin' humidity and heat.
Come this October they'll return to their Dixie Land retreat!
Farmers is tunin' John Deeres to plow but the ground is froze.
They cain't even rely on the Farmer's Almanac, heaven knows!
Jes' when the apple, peach and mulberry trees wuz all abloom,
Along came the springtime freeze and, alas, they met their doom!
Another thing that has some Hoosier folks in a terrible snit,
Is the change to daylight savin's time but they'll git over it.
The good folks of Wayne County have jes' one simple request:
"Montana! We'd be obliged if'n you kept yer weather way out west!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Years ago on Turkey Day
My father, in a snit,
Let traffic get the best of him,
Announcing, “This is it!”
He turned the car ‘round in a huff;
My mom’s pleas were rejected.
My aunt had planned a massive feast
At which we were expected.
To soothe our wounds my dad declared,
“We’ll go out for Chinese!”
Our sullen silence shouted “No!”
To lobster Cantonese.
Yet there we were Thanksgiving Day
With shrimp in lobster sauce,
My father trying to pretend
He showed us who was boss.
But though he tried to cheer us up
We were a gloomy group;
We dreamed of sweet potato pie
While slurping wonton soup.
I often think back to that day –
Though we were so downcast,
We were together, and who knew
That magic wouldn’t last?
My parents are long gone
Yet every year in late November,
That Thanksgiving eating Chinese food’s
The one that I remember.
Cats are an intriguing tribe.
They celebrate making the choice.
When you hear them, you catch the vibe
at the height of their Heaviside voice.
With lively reveling, they rejoice!
Cats are known for meditation
that mere humans can only surmise.
They devote much contemplation,
being both cunning and wise,
in choosing the one to die and arise.
So when you hear the bawl at night
do not rage or enter a snit.
It is this night they delight
in debating the worth of kith and kit
and contend themselves befit.
Humans contemplate immortality
in somber, immutable terms.
Cats view transition as formality
for it is death that life affirms
and only life that death confirms.
Don't know it's beginning;
but it was a house before
becoming a HOME. Concrete block
house with Four large rooms. Don't
know how that house departed; but
at its heyday, there were two
additional wood rooms added.
That HOME (family) consisted of a mom and dad,
a maternal grandmother, 8 girls, 4 boys,
and a dog named Jack who was very much
a part of that loud and lovely big HOME.
First to depart that close snit HOME was
the dog who was shot and killed sometime
just prior to the father's demise which
occurred in 1963.
By '74, all family members had moved away
from that house. That house was last seen
by me sometime during the mid-'70s.
Nevertheless, the HOME, though now scattered
across the country, remains a HOME. There now
remain 4 women and 3 men of that generation.
Sometimes one generation will leave no descendants,
but it is rare that a HOME will fully die. It is much more
common for a house to disappear by fires, storms, etc.
More and more, I am seeing houses that have been
completely abandoned and are being allowed for nature
to take them back. These are sites that hurt my eyes
and break my heart.
Revisiting my house and HOME site after more than
30 years, it broke my heart that my house of birth
was nevermore. But I ask myself, "What would it
have been like to see it slowly fall and fade away"?
022623PSCtest, Writing Challenge -H Words -.
Constance La France. Word Chosen: Home
My Uncle Bill thought it would be hilarious and fun.
To warn a fellow merchant of a shoplifter - Miss Gun.
The employees followed her all over the store that day.
They reported that she left quickly, as if she was running away.
She came outside and we could see she was in a snit.
She had a red face, and brown eyes were flashing quite a bit.
What is wrong? Someone asked and Bill could not stop his grin.
I noticed it, and so did my unobserving usually ten-year-old twin.
Our Aunt Marge was in a horrible mood when to home we returned.
Those employees followed me the whole time! She was truly burned.
Bill kept laughing but did not tell the rest of us of his prank.
Until Marge left. She was the oldest sister, and could be a real crank.
I was around fourteen when the charms of girls began to beckon,
And I was about fifteen when I had my first date, I would reckon.
'Way back then there were certain rituals that must be observed,
Some of which left me quite baffled and somewhat unnerved!
The evening must be perfect so I wore a suit and tie.
Shoes were shined and greasy Vitalis to my hair I'd apply!
Peach fuzz was plucked and I fairly reeked of Old Spice.
The car was washed and waxed to further her entice!
This too was her first date and things must be just right.
She'd had a snit with her Ma thinking her hair was a fright!
But she looked divine in her hat, gloves and flowered frock!
Her Pa's parting shot, "You git her home by ten o'clock!"
When I called for her I daren't sit and toot the horn.
That would've heaped upon my brow her folks' eternal scorn!
So, I meekly sidled up and timidly tapped upon the door.
Met by her scowling Pa who said, "Who's this skinny boor?"
My grandkids tell me there's no such formalities nowadays,
And wearing jeans and mutilating body rings is all the craze.
I'm told a great date is to hang out with friends at the local mall.
I guess I was born too soon! I just don't understand that at all!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
Entry for Frank H "First Date" Contest
I was 'round fourteen when the charms of girls began to beckon,
And was about fifteen when I had my first date, I'd reckon.
Way back then there were certain rituals to be observed,
Some of which left me quite bereft and somewhat unnerved!
The evening must be perfect so I wore a suit and tie.
Shoes were shined and greasy Vitalis I'd liberally apply.
Peach fuzz was plucked and I fairly reeked of Old Spice.
The car was washed and waxed to further her entice!
This too was her first date and things must be just right.
She'd had a snit with her Ma thinking her hair was a fright!
But she looked lovely in her hat, gloves and flowered frock.
Her Pa's parting shot, "You git her home by ten o'clock!"
When I called for her I daren't sit and toot the horn.
That would've heaped upon my brow her folks' eternal scorn!
So I meekly sidled up and timidly tapped upon the door.
Met by her scowling Pa who mused, "Who's this skinny boor?"
My grandkids tell me there's no such formalities nowadays,
And wearing jeans and mutilating body rings is all the craze!
I'm told a great date is to join their friends at the local mall.
I guess I was born too soon - I just don't understand that at all!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Evell’s pointed ears perked up. A faerie library! Where was it?
When does it open? Who can check out books? She was intrigued.
“Only true faeries can see it,” evil Morganna said, she was a chit.
Not being a pureblood, Evell wondered if she would get access.
“I know I will be invited,” Morganna told her. She was a snit.
Two weeks later Evell discovered a new road, and a tall stair.
She was let inside. Dwarfs, elves and dragons reading books.
“Isn’t this wonderful?” a pixie said, flinging pink dust in the air.
“Excuse me,” Evell said to the librarian. “Where are faerie books?”
“Everywhere,” the gargoyle said, extending his hands. “Every shelf.”
Fantastic Faerie Frolicks, Fairy Bible and Recipes for Fey Cooks.
Morganna never showed up. "She won’t," winked a knowing elf.