Long Snobs Poems
Long Snobs Poems. Below are the most popular long Snobs by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Snobs poems by poem length and keyword.
Midsummer vehemence stows heat for later
Solar film ominously watch hot arc
Tilt tracks trajectory, power cater
Stashes post sizzle to supply light dark
Socket slit subservient incubates
Arrow of assurance inserts cable
Voltage their pairing impressive creates
Self derived to electric capable
Autonomy admonished with a switch
Loins bearing in luxury breed evil
Informed about squalid impoverished
Ignore affluent vantage for reprieval
Overloaded homes groan under panels
Tainted rich roads tune rigid channels
16th January
Wealth rotten wattage
It’s so difficult to sustain the life
in this senseless-tiresome-dry world,
and that’s why I decided to fool the world to ease my life.
I took my head out of my shoulders and put it on the road
the very spot where I decided to beguile the others;
the way was happened to be a moderately sloped downward road
and that’s why my conscience rolling downward with very little or
no effort at all.
For I was moving forward without any hindering object or resistance
it became monotonous; I felt like play a prank for some fan,
so I bounced up and down, danced around here and there,
but it didn’t do any good because these were another dull
and slothful recurring motions. I closed my eyes being languid.
On the way I saw the snobs, who impudently
insist upon themselves are the microcosm,
arguing each other wearing the ridiculously ugly masks,
“my territory has to be greater than yours.”
Because of those ridiculous masks
finger point one another with infuriated yelling
I opened the eyes terrifying. As I woke,
I saw a giant standing before me holding an apple
in his hand staring at me; and ridiculous masks carry the explosive.
Who is this giant? And what is the explosive? I tried to
move forward again after gave a moment of thought;
but this time, I was trapped in the midst of a battle field
where a rusted lump of heavy iron moves back and forth
on a double-headed serpent’s back, throwing flames from its mouth.
I gave up moving forward thinking,
though it may not be the place to dwell,
here is the place where I have to take a root;
after rooted, the gray hairs grew to the limbs
and branches of a dead tree, and bear the leaves
and flowers, and some of them fell on the ground blown by the wind,
then the rolling leaves on the ground
become stones and road side footmarks.
When colorless paper flakes
bleach the road side footmarks,
they turn into the scentless petals
and cover the crushed masks lying here and there;
though these distorted masks didn’t say a word
a goldsmith comes in the evenfall displaying proudly,
sprinkles the gold dust tinted with the reddened glow.
I suppose that nearly every town has its share of self-appointed snobs,
A few old crabs and the usual crowd of ordinary Bills, Jills and Bobs.
In our fair village there's a character whose name is "Squire" Squab,
Whose well-known eccentricities stand out among the seething mob!
No one seems to know how the title of "squire" he acquired.
Nor has anyone that I know of really ever inquired.
He certainly isn't a lawyer, justice of the peace or judge,
Though he assumes those self-appointed roles at the slightest nudge!
He always wears a derby hat, spats and a dovetail coat.
Kids harass him unmercifully trying to get his goat!
On his daily stroll downtown he'll sidle up to some hapless soul,
With a myriad of inane propositions that he wishes to extol!
Many times at town council meetings, that august body he'll disrupt,
To denounce their ancestry, telling them that they are most corrupt!
At Baptist prayer meetings he often disturbs their peace,
And must be cuffed and escorted to jail by the local police!
Although some folks consider the "Squire" a peculiar curiosity,
Others like to think that he exudes a distinguished virtuosity!
When all is said and done, he is simply a naive and harmless guy,
But he certainly animates our town, this we surely can't deny!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
" If someone is rude, mean or sarcastic
their life options will be very limited. "
Quote by _ poet
Why are some people so mean to sales clerks,
young folks who are trying to make money;
why are some people acting like such jerks,
their rudeness and remarks are not funny.
Why so nasty to staff in coffee shops,
being polite does not cost you a cent;
what makes you think and act like you are tops,
and so important and to staff you vent.
When I was young and had to work these jobs,
would just keep smiling while screaming inside;
I think these people are unhappy snobs,
but, I was hurt and when at home I cried.
When I finished school and was in nursing,
I thought at last I would get some respect;
was wrong for many times I heard cursing,
patient's suffering I would never neglect.
Then, I worked in long term end of life care,
people would visit with an attitude;
not my fault they died I wished to declare,
God bless the people who showed gratitude.
____________________
December 18, 2021
Poetry/Rhyme/Often, I Cried
Copyright Protected, ID 12-1413-776-18
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, Bull Size Bull Crap
sponsor, Charles Messina, Judged 01/18/2022
First Place
Slavery is not the end of atrocities
Suffered by minority communities
The every day systematic sway
Of bricks piled against you like
A wall of pain
So many bricks
The millions murdered for simply being
Who they were born to be black brown red
But of these I speak of what I know firsthand
The professional personal political assassination
of the collective black character is so deep
It is astonishing ingrained and denied to be a thing
For instance because there was a black president
In this racist country people say there you have equality
Nope
A system built on the back of blacks
That promotes hate of anything black
Saving a few teachers pets
Does not save the souls of those
Still being oppressed stressed and put to death
Schools are the battleground as well
We are not even teaching the truth freely
Jim Crow is alive and well look it up
The systems of government are used and abused
To keep people from getting the American Dream
The poor displaced and disgraced
Taxed to the max
While the rich enjoy perks less tax relax
When I walk in a store I am sized up and categorized
followed by security I may get service
But only if I look affluent enough and
Sometimes not even then
Depending on the store and area
When my brother walks down the street
Do you clutch your purse
No really
If he doesn’t style himself just so
Is he perceived as less than
When he goes to the bank for a loan
How often will he be denied
Or unfairly penalized
It’s deeper than slavery
We are still here suffering despite being
Called American we are treated
Not even as well as foreigners
Who seek asylum
Where is that for the brown red black people
It’s not being able to fairly compete for jobs
When corporate snobs want degrees and experience
But how do you get one before the other
When you don’t qualify for loans
Or go in so much debt for college
That the dream is deferred
Or you get the job but the pay
Is poor because you can’t afford the degree
Never mind you are doing the job perfectly
So you must get multiple jobs to eat
I’m so sick of saying that marginalized
Systematic racism in America is more than what happened then it is what is happening today now
And by the looks of it what the future holds
As the systems of old have not been replaced!
Having class is essential...
natural elegance
being poor or rich....
Without that, nothing done...
Shabby but clean,
rich in coat but infamous;
Little money doesn't buy things,
but lots of money, it doesn't buy class... !
Lineage does not wash the soul,
nor does establish nobility of nobles.
There are worthless rich snobs,
and poor eloquent, elegant...
Nobility and character and that is not acquired
with title deeds...
chic is being polite on fridays
senses... who dominates them,
it is naturally elegant...!
Hello, Stranger, Hello Friend.
Want some joy that never ends?
Follow me to Happy Town!
Welcome unhappy thief,
stuck up snob,
mischevious
rascal and clown.
Step right up, do not be afraid.
Our happy pool is truly first grade.
The line was small, in spite of our shout.
Too many were leery, so many had doubts.
But the ones who believed stepped up and in line.
There were two of them, so fierce and fine.
We baptized them in the joy pool down from the hill,
We gave them unlimited turns on the glorious slide of thrill.
That was a month ago, but their happy attitudes and opinions are glowing still.
They went skipping and hopping back to their regular day,
their regular job, with their regular pay.
Come here thieves, snobs, stuck ups, racists, and clowns. Arrive your way.
Happy Town guarantees you can have a much better day!
His seared look, from a painted gird brow dons,
a face like Van Gogh with both ears, though just,
as lost, looks about an empty room of challenges,
that is built high on lost convictions, drowns in a,
festering of desperation, as sweats beads a stench,
on an unswept floor, wavering, between old unhealed,
wounds of a, dark past, all attached to young love,
and their new miseries.
He takes a swig and walks away from a sultry,
sway as a piano's light tune, breaks off key and,
holds, as a blown off woman pops her gum and,
snobs at his direction unnoticed and wanders off,
while a glib man in slick clothes offers a chance at,
cards, he simply walks away until a chair moves,
from behind, it's slick, he then stops with his back,
still faces him, a chair slides back, he walks on.
He comes up to the man at the piano, who is a bit,
jittery, asked hm if he knew a song called, 'Ole
Susanna', he replied saying that he never heard of,
that song, he then steps back a spell and figured,
him to be from the north, and gives him a look like,
a Picasso painting for he knows that people out West,
knows, 'Ole Susanna', so he's thinking that things are,
afoot here in this town, as he looks around at stares.
He backs away, on back to the bar, takes a final swig,
as a jingled coin settles to silence in the uncanniness,
of a quietude western bar, as he dons his hat, the,
bartender hollers that set the bar back to its norm, girls,
giggling, cards shuffling, piano playing, and all of the,
joviality returns, as the new guy in town, hops on a horse,
and pulls away as a normal western town fades in the sun as,
a drifter stops, turns and sees afar off, a painting by Monet.
Losing with Grace.....
Baseball players know how to play
their game and move on.
When they lose, they lose.
They don't talk of collusion, or who
stole bases and worse..
To call in the Fed to play the game of Farcical Illusions,
They move on to the next game.
It is not a federal crime.
The players need to go to DC and explain this plain fact to
some of our elected dummies.
To the overpaid ,selfish snobs of
this country.
I do mean only those sitting on their
arses for 40 years.
No, sorry, we all need to ask God,
A better question.
Is it OK to steal from men who work,
that their well earned money must
go to the poor.
America is far from third world nation,
We don't need a Robin Hood to run
this country.
America will not be a socialist nation.
Nor do we need a panel of angry fools,
To paint Americans as Foolish ghouls.
Take a poor person into your house, why
don't you?
Offer them your soap, your towels and
the use of your food, money and home.
To me, that's real Christianity.
In CA, people live on the streets on
purpose, it's far more money for them
that way.
Plus welfare, Snap cards and free health
care, too.
And selling dope behind McDonald's too.
Poor?? My rear!
Not to mention the monies collected,
on which no taxes will they pay.
People know how to play the poor game
here, remarkably, too well.
It's called, "Beating the system."
In the USA today there are more jobs
than people.
Yet, people choose to live in tents, it's
cheap and easier than work.
Let the other Americans, go make
money ~ the jerks!
The poor here do know it's sheer honey.
In my city, there's a homeless man on
a horse.
Any rational being can figure out what
it costs to feed a horse.
One can't be poor and provide adequate
health care,for an animal and himself
I feel sorry for that horse living outside.
His master is not sick nor old nor poor.
And I don't live in a crumbling town
in a third world nation.
Just people living on chosen, victim hood,
Eternal, extended....juvenile vacations.
Panagiota Romios
April 23,2019
1:45pm PST
Sour Grapes
Their third trip now...again to Italy;
first two by air that landed into Rome.
They're on a cruise ship now near Sicily...
it seems they're always out and never home.
We were invited once to come along;
thank goodness that for us it could not be.
Between our work and cost, it would be wrong
to satisfy ourselves so stupidly!
How boring being stuck on a cruise ship...
all one can do is watch the sky and sea!
Exploring foreign lands...well, this we'll skip;
the people will be snobs, we guarantee!
We'll just vacation in our cozy yard...
when they return, their tales we'll disregard.
Sandra M. Haight
~1st Place~
Premiere Contest: Sour Grapes
Sponsor: Mark Massey
Judged: 09/11/2018
(Fiction for Contest)