Long Snorts Poems
Long Snorts Poems. Below are the most popular long Snorts by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Snorts poems by poem length and keyword.
For every day there is a night.
For every wrong there is a right.
For every up there is a down.
For every smile there is a frown.
It's always darkest before the dawn.
For every pro there is a con.
Into each life some rain must fall,
But enjoy your life in spite of it all.
There are two sides to everything,
And no one knows what the future brings.
It does no good to expect the worst,
When people do that they create their own curse.
Don't waste your time and grumble and grouch,
And sit in a funk on the living room couch.
Life is already way too short,
To waste it on grumbles and growls and snorts.
You can build your own future and make your own luck,
By looking ahead and not passing the buck.
Have faith in God and the gifts He has given,
Don't worry 'bout dyin' just get busy livin'.
There are wild horses in the heather;
their neighing follows the wake
of hewing wind-wraiths.
The ponies are hardy and stout, they go
in and out of the clouds, slip through
swale and dingle.
The moors are high. You don't feel the altitude
only the depth of the land. When the sky turns sullen
it tilts to smother the earth.
If the scything winds falter, the shallow sod
bogs into sumps and divots
Where trees cannot be, clouds spread
a muffling mizzle over gorse and grass,
a grazing tide carries a spume of chills.
The hills here are thigh deep, rills of dark water
loiter and seep.
The small ponies shake their matted manes,
mist-sprays pool in muddy hoofprints,
the warm brume of their snorts
leads you onward on a lonesome track
for they alone know the steps taken
to cross over each dim acres edge.
Travel with them to a gritstone ledge,
where the heath plunges dale deep,
there above the tall treetops
a bright sky will rise up to meet you.
She smiles all day she thinks it' s o.k.
She makes weird sounds and it's all day
My Aunt I asked will you not make that silly sound today?
My Aunt looked at me and said why? she always say
In public she snorts when she laughs and I get that
But when things get out of hand she scares my the cat
I have a cat but my Aunt well she kinda sat
Poor little cat it was now a furry little mat
I get really mad at her, but she seems to make me smile
Because one day we walked, she sang me a song about a mile
I was happy because she ran out of gas at last
She also could not speak at all, and that was a blast
Although she could not speak
She kept smiling she once never look bleak
My Aunt Willy who's Silly is the person who never does things in half's
I can not express any louder she makes me smile with laughs
night yet clings
yet smothers the numb highway
breathe the wheel
sigh through the gears
wave-ride rubber after-shocks
follow the beam-eyed light
into the blossoming gray
adjusts to blacktop rapids
the sky is passing
it is now ahead of itself
convertible clouds weep dry tears
slip-slide the slick dark banks
with flickering wrists
A second light blooms
a small sun pastes itself onto distant white
a hooded bonnet shakes like a wet wolf
the horizon is now a mobile scaffolding
the whispering tread of a fast coming daylight
rushes into view, it snorts though a crystal vase
that the mind grips tightly
the roads blind ability
to avoid Niagara or the Grand Canyon
guides cold white knuckles
the drunk rocking of a back axle
warns you of a surfacing
unpaved parking lot
engine bones tick-over
articulate shuddering full stops
as they cough up stillness
here
at the end of
one half of a minute
and that is the third manifestation
of breathable light
8 cups of shredded cabbage
5 cups of chopped kale
4 cups of shredded cooked pork (pork roast)
15 peeled and parboiled potatoes( cooked about 20 minutes in salted water)
1 one quart can of peeled tomatoes(drained)
10 slices of slab bacon
2, 8 ounce cans of cooked white beans
1/2 cup of chopped cilantro( plus 4 tablespoons of lime juice)
1 & 1/2 cup of chopped onion
4 tablespoons of crushed garlic
5 cups of chicken stock
1/4 cup of honey( add one tablespoon of cayenne pepper, 1 tablespoon of liquid smoke)
in a dutch oven, layer potatoes, top with kale and cabbage, cover veggies with shredded pork and honey.....add onions, garlic and cilantro, add tomatoes, add chicken stock, cover with the white beans, layer top with bacon, cook for about 2 hours at 350......
simple dessert
press sugar cookie dough into muffin pan(the bottom and up the edges to make a cup)
0r use graham cracker crust in muffin tins
fill with a mixture of
3 cups of cream cheese
3 tablespoons of orange liquer
3 tablespoons of vanilla
2 tablespoons of a good quality nut liqueur
3 tablespoons of lime juice
3 egg yolks
1/2 cup of melted butter
1 package of white chocolate pudding mix(instant)
1 cup of sugar
1/2 cup of pecans
1/2 cup of toasted almonds
1/3 cup of coconut flakes
1/3 cup of white chocolate chips
mix well fill tins, bake for about 30 minutes, allow to cool, top each muffin with a strawberry, cut into strawberry fans.
the bassoons player wife, whats something, she invited us over for some grub, and strawberry snorts....
she had a lamb with pomagranete, lime and rosemary sauce...
we grubbed like "Floranctine, in Rome" she had me looking at her like a date, Dude better check his self, his wife is ah keeper!
Hank had cowboyed on the Triple T Ranch fer nigh on fifty years.
He'd rode the range herdin' beef peerin' betwixt his hoss's ears.
Durin' cattle stampedes he'd broke bones and many a time was throwed,
And he'd been astraddle his saddle so long that his legs was stiffly bowed!
He loved the cowpokin' life but he didn't become rich by any means.
He'd even come to savor Cooky's usual grub of bacon, taters and beans.
Durin' brandin' time he roped and branded many a steer's scruffy hide.
He was a master with the brandin' arn and he wielded it with skillful pride!
He liked lollin' 'round the campfire a-jawin' with pards beneath the stars,
Sippin' java that smelled like old socks, smokin' roll-yer-owns and ceegars.
He pulled many a nighttime guard duty in sleet, snow and peltin' rain,
Blowin' on his harmonica to calm skittish herds which was quite a strain!
He'll miss huddlin' 'round the bunkhouse stove as storms blew driftin' snow,
While he and his pals listened to Tex sawin' away with his fiddle and bow.
Hank hung up his scruffy boots, tattered chaps and sweat-stained hat.
He'd already given away his well-worn saddle and his 44 caliber gat.
This was Hank's last roundup herdin' cattle to Abilene up the dusty trail,
Cussin' and sweatin' to get 'em loaded up to ship on the Chicago rail.
He stopped by fer a few snorts with the boys at the Long Branch cabaret,
Then cantered off into the sunset on Old Dan his trusty hoss, callin' it a day!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2015 All Rights Reserved
" Human sex trafficking is now an epidemic that many seem to ignore." by poet
She was a sweet girl, kindhearted and innocent
She’s feeling anxious about starting High School soon
She has very few friends, and desires to be in the popular crowd
Her family is old-fashioned, doesn’t let her date or go out much
She started going to the local gym and made some new friends
Friends from the popular group, she is elated and happy, finally
They invite her to a party and tell her to lie to her parents
She can tell them it’s a slumber party and can sleep over
She lies to her parents and tells them she is going to a slumber party
She leaves in her conservative, preppy clothes, only to change later
She borrows a mini skirt, heels and a low-cut trendy blouse
She feels beautiful, popular and happy, accepted by the group
At the party she tries a drink, she likes the taste and how she feels
It’s a fun escape from the boring and strict home life she knows
She then hears her name being called, she turns around and sees him
He’s dark and dangerous, drives a fancy sports car and is gorgeous
He takes her for a ride, promises her a job modeling, she believes him
She drinks more and flirts with him, he tells her she needs to try something
She snorts some coke, her life just changed for the worse, she is hooked
She leaves with him, he tells her he has a huge mansion, she believes him
She wakes up in a daze, not sure where she is, it’s a small one room place
There is a couch, a mattress on the floor and the windows are blacked out
She hears the gorgeous man talking to another man, discussing money
A strange man enters the room, starts to undress, now naked, she's terrified
He gives her more drugs so she can escape, then he rapes and beats her
She doesn’t know where she is, she is confused, time has lapsed, she is lost
Her family has not seen her for months, no one has, she is now a missing teen
She is not sure how to leave, not sure she wants to, as she takes another hit
It is common knowledge to those who have shared rooms with the groom and those who have only shared houses with him, he snores
and no matter what one tries to do to stop him, or to dampen the sound, his snoring stubbornly soars
After having tried everything from clothes pegs to sound-proof walls
after drowning out his hog-like snorts with the seventh symphony of nature's bird calls
I finally arrived at a solution that could only be dreamt up by someone on the edge of insanity
How often, I thought, do annoying sounds top the musical charts of humanity?
If record scratching, Sesame Street's Grover
squealing guitars and da da das over and over
are able to be the musical hits of the night
then why couldn't the sounds of snoring become a delight?
A chart topping snoring song would send a message to the ear-battered wives of the world their sensory perceptions have erred
that snoring is not to be complained about, but rather preferred
Wives should be proud of their man's popular melody
They should listen intently for talent and balladry
It should lull them to sleep as the lulling of their feral felines that have purred
or as the evergreen 'Rock-a-by’ or Hush Little Baby Don't Say A Word’
If, however, the bride can't obtain this perception of snoring
I'd instead recommend she perceive it as boring
for it would be highly inconsistent of her to fall asleep while her husband is making advances toward her
but to stay awake during his monotonous snoring, which to the same extent hadn't bored her.
Blow-ball and Cankerwort,
words born from a common tongue.?
Lions tooth, ?
Priests Crown, ?
Moles Salad and piss-a-bed.?
?
English is most practical ?
when it is rustic and colloquial.
‘Swine Snout’ snorts loud upon the page.
The yarrow-yellow flowers last for hours
then overnight turn to fairy bones.
I recall us both sat upon the grass
blowing unfettered puffs into the wind,
our hair littered with stemmed parasols
the pirouetting flotsam of the airborne.?
?
The damply dunked sounds of sneeze-helicopter's,?
the muddy splatter of piggy snozzles.
Lions Teeth are its leaf, mix well with Burdock
for a low tea under a shady tree.
Beware of false dandelions such as ?
cats ears and coltsfoot.?
The Chinese, Pu Gong Ying is the real thing.
After we had covered each other
with dandelion kisses
we made hay the old fashioned way.
I awaken to the lovely snorts of my sweet English bulldog,
Frankie sits up in my bed, legs out, looks sort of like a frog.
Toddling down the stairs assessing the light from the window,
We know whether the trip outside will be short or rather slow.
Terrified of thunderstorms, she’ll do her job with no delay,
But she’ll wander and sniff, taking her time on a sunny day.
While Frankie smells the grass and deposits her little gift,
I make a tea and look out over the river, it gives me a lift.
Blue Herron feeding and carp jump, the temperatures scorch,
Cardinals, Bluejays and yellow Finch fill the trees by the porch.
You breath in the fresh air and appreciate the nature present,
Peaceful and filled with hope, its a typical morning, no big event.
I refill the bird feeders to keep my feathered friends coming back,
Then Frankie and I go inside, mornings we’ve perfected the knack.
Written August 9, 2012
By Lee Ramage
For Francine Robert’s contest
“A couplet- morning”