Long Steak Poems
Long Steak Poems. Below are the most popular long Steak by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Steak poems by poem length and keyword.
Who Even Told Her That
We have our priorities. Our lunches. At prissy linen-covered tables.
With the best silverware, and steaks cooked exactly right.
So do not let that woman in. Tell her I am gone on sabbatical.
It is too bad about her child and cancer is awful, but I am busy.
And that steak is waiting with warm hot rolls, and real butter.
We have our preferences. Guns, ammo, and war machines
Bringing in lots of money for constituents who have paid me well.
I cannot wave at them at lunch if I filter their profits into something
As unpopular with them as cancer research.
Maybe we could give a dollar
Or two, but who cares that it is the number one killer of children?
My children are safe. My grandchildren do not have it.
I have lunch
Ready, at a table, ready to be served to my waiting belly.
Tell that woman to go away.
Bringing her child with her is a media trick.
I am not caving on this.
Seven hundred and ten billion to my fat cats,
Zip to cancer research.
Why does she even KNOW that none of the
Pittance we give is going to find out why
cancer is the number one killer of children?
Who told her that?
You bleeding-heart secretaries ought to keep your mouths shut.
My lunch is waiting dhramm it!
I ham guilty for gobbledygook...
and ruffling turkey feathers!
An innocent miss steak kin...
once former main lion,
resident iz cow herd vegetarian boar
ring beastie boy, who doth
newt practice, what he preaches your
truly battens down chicken
coop hatches so... call me galore
re: us hypocritic,
this honest to dog omnivore – more
accurate said buzzfeeding primate -
*****sapiens, he whelk hams
adieu after quick bonjour
hears ear splitting eeyore
deaf finning chore
tills unable to ignore
admits transgression,
now wonder wherefore
whether art thou still
game to reed my adore
hub bull poetry
understandable if ye deplore
such atrocious, egregious, opprobrious...,
violating ethical core
puss regarding straying
against dietary herbivore
rudimentary eel lamb ants
(chocolate covered my dear Watson)
boot fault in the starfish...por
favor mice elf can
oxe plain twittering like plover
with reasonable rhyme for sure
don't get doggy dimples in bunch
cause to skewer me but... but before...
sending killing squad to slaughter -
this puppy, aye kindly honour
my wish and don
me noggin with pompadour
as fetching drag queen
torpedo sized bosom
squirting parti-color
milk as self defense mechanism
averting casus belli thus
amidst melee I abhor
find self on horns of dilemma
life story these of this poor
cooked goose flambé
caught between rock and trapdoor
special cannibal delight
where madding crowd
chants "send him back"
accursed unconscionable roar
ring anger, but lurch for eats,
an impulsive reflex courtesy extempore
rain nee yes unforgivable poor
craven impulse to up peas hunger
uncontrollably craving regarding carnivore
pang additionally not further injure
ring innocent animal plus more
to this fishy tail than
meats the Wawa birdseye.
I love it when Lisa and I take our show out and, on the road,
like this twilight helicopter flight, from New Haven to LaGuardia.
I’m so excited about tonight, it’s possible that I might implode.
The rotor blades started twirling, our luggage had been stowed,
the pilot asked Lisa. “Ready for takeoff?” Lisa grinned and said, “Go!”
He gave her a quick and crisp salute and the engine noise started to grow.
As we went wheels-up, the whirly-birds warning lights began to strobe.
Yep, It’s the start of November recess and we’re changing our zip code.
We rise like a balloon, at first, until the harbor comes into view.
The engines were screaming like jets, when the whole world turned askew,
I’ve done numerous take-offs like this, but it still feels like I might spew.
Above the rear cockpit window, there’s an air-speed indicator that looks like a clock.
With a quick turn over Yale’s campus, we’re going 90 as we steak over the docks.
As we ascend into the night, the twinkling lights of New Haven seem to shrink.
We’re swiftly gaining altitude, this quivering contraption, moves faster than you’d think.
As the red numbers settle at 260, the vibrations have all but ceased,
The engine noise is gone as well, as we race up, in the darkness and out over the sea.
I try not to think of the inky black water, how far we would fall and how quickly we’d sink.
Long Island Sound glittered, like fractured glass, under the waxing crescent moon.
The forever-blue sky was hosting a large, fake-star, because Venus was glowing there too.
That dark almost-orbit was prettier than the infinity-of-lights we’ll see on Park Avenue.
We’ll be meeting Peter’s flight from Geneva - a surprise - he doesn’t have a clue.
As the lights of New York become pronounced, so does my excitement that he’ll be around.
I’m sure we’ll get a moment of quiet intimacy at the LaGuardia international arrivals lounge.
Annoyances
One of the first things to go is that
never appreciated tactile proficiency.
The ability to find the car keys in an
overstuffed bag. Close your eyes. Tell
me if it’s a raisin or a kumquat.
Tying my shoes is not so troublesome
as is the re-tying of them. I’m back to
being the kid whose shoe laces untie
themselves. Decaffeinated coffee sets
me on edge. So does going to a steak
house and ordering chicken. The worm
in the Tequila bottle. The have a
nice day sign at the entrance to the
rehab. People with “Bluetooth”
thingies stuck in their ears trouble
me. Time was the guy waving his
arms and talking to himself was
a sign you should cross the street
and not make eye contact. Texting,
if you want to send me a letter please
put it in the mail and let the nice
Post Office people deliver it. If you
wish to talk to me please call or
stop by for coffee. Directions annoy
the hell out of me. They are usually
written by someone who never tried
to put the damn thing together using
their directions. The GPS lady really
bugs me. I’d rather get lost than
badgered by her recalculating tone.
Kayakers who paddle over and ask
me how the fishing is today make me
want to torpedo their boat. Popcorn
really bugs me. Ice cream head rushes,
forks touching that filling, small toys in
my shoes, and being old annoy me.
So I get even. My mantra is simple.
Places to go. People to annoy.
John G. Lawless
2/10/2013
Submitted to
Things that Annoy Me contest
I'm not interested in how,
You make a living?
I want to know if you have nothing,
Are you still giving?
I want to know if you dare to dream of meeting
Your hearts longing?
I want to know in a crowd of strangers,
Can you sense your belonging?
I want to know if you will risk,
looking like a fool for love?
I want to know if your lover,
Is all you dreamed of?
I'm not interested in what planets,
Align with the moon?
I want to know if your OK dancing
To the beat of a different tune?
I want to know if you have touched
The center of your sorrow?
I want to know if you believe in the
Children of tomorrow?
I'm not interested if the story
You tell is true?
I want to know if all is lost
Can you still make do?
I want to know if you can see beauty,
If it's not pretty?
I want to know if you can help the youth out,
in the inner city?
I'm not interested in how
You came to be here?
I want to know your dreams
And the things you fear?
I want to know if you can stand in the fire
And not shrink back?
I want to know if you can finish,
When you're out of whack?
I'm not interested in when
Or where you went to school?
I want to know under pressure,
Can you keep your cool?
I want to know what sustains you on the
Inside when all else falls away?
I want to know if your still grateful,
When you've had a bad day?
I'm not interested in where you live
Or how much money you make?
I want to know if your OK with eating out
Of a can; instead of a T-Bone steak?
I want to know if you believe in blind faith
Or do you look before you leap?
I want to know if you can be alone with yourself
And truly like the company you keep?
Turbo1904
As I roamed into the steakhouse,
I spotted him slashing steak.
He looked up with his dispirited stare,
His despair coherent to me.
He summon me to take a chair,
He had a anecdote to unfold,
About the day his spouse left,
The day love revolved to abyss.
He delivered her the works he had,
His body, soul and heart,
Her addiction got the best of him,
She backslid; he fell discrete.
Off she went on a spree, appear like,
A daze of narcotics and booze–
When he faced up to her, she said,
"Fine," and ran off–just think
Of the agony it caused this man,
His eyes folded into his face,
Tears so actuate, harsh and brutal
They are salting him in place.
Yet he turns up at the steakhouse,
Forlornness not his thing,
Through those depressed eyes I can declare
He’s longing for happiness, although
Dealing with the tragedy of losing
A woman once very delightful,
A woman now astray in her sadness,
His sorrow under her feet.
Anchored by its feet hangs the carcass
Butcher removes brisket and strings it
Chuck steak diced for stews and pies
Dark well matured silverside rests
Entrails give the dogs a royal feast
Flank minced for spaghetti bolognese
Gullet chopped into stock pot simmers
Hanging meat swings as the butcher works
Icy still from the blast chiller
Juicy steaks thickly cut are parcelled up
Kebabs skewered, placed on display
Loin of beef neatly lined up
Minced steak patties for burgers
Neck used in both stock pot and stew
Offal set aside for pate and pies
Perfectly roasted beef ready to carve
Quick flash fry of rib eye seals in juices
Rump not too trimmed dribbles on grill
Sirloin anointed by a king sizzling
Tongue gently braised in gravy or stock
Utensils casting shadows on the wall
Venison from red deer's makes tasty things
Wing rib rubbed with hot spices waits
Xhosa cattle graze in pastures green
Yellowed meats set aside for soup
Zibeline hides scrapped and cured, nailed up
8/27/2015
contest Any Poem written in August
Ya Need to Treat Me Better I'm Old But Not Dead Yet---
I don't need your pity;
I ate no OLD bitty;
Don't serve me no soup or smashed peas
I got this, child keep me a steak, these are my real teeth;
Turn down that T V, what's ya so close to for STOP yelling I CAN hear?
If ya ain't careful I'll slap yo face;
This stuff ya listen to today a disgrace
Give me Ella, Satchmo, or Della
And boy wha' your wearN pull thm pants up
I don't wanna see yo underwear
And girl when ya gonna comb that hair
Must be somethin bout bein old
Cause I look round me
THIS is all I'm told
This ole young world best go back and do what the good book said
Yes! I'M OLD CHILD BUT I'M NOT DEAD
Now git here at this table and pass me my toast and jam
~ “Hey - returning your note!” ~
perhaps I'm not your type, alas
but I'm behind you, here in class
adoring each and every thing you do
the way you talk - so soft, yet clear
and tuck the tresses 'hind your ear
(the hair I'd love to run my fingers thru) ...
I love the way you tilt your hip
and always bite your bottom lip
whene'er you get excited or annoyed
the way you pass me secret notes -
crimped origami swans and boats
advising me the girls I should avoid ...
for me it's not the threads or bling
it's each sweet, steamy little thing
that other guys don't care about at all
and yet, if added - two-plus-two
they make for one amazing YOU
(the enigmatic You I'd love to call) ...
you might not know me very well
trimesters - long enough to tell
I'm apt to always treat you with respect
you're tres romantic - much like me
and know that love can someday be
as faithful as two hearts can thus affect ...
so, if I may, I'll start this task
as rhyme and meter, meant to ask
if you might give us just an evening each?
perhaps a steak house - Japanese
a theater, next - that new release!
and then a dreamy walk along the beach ...
the stroll may seem a bit too soon
but sad to waste that lovely moon -
what romance it’ll weave, no one can tell
so ..
I hope you'll flip this page and write
you'd “love to” date me, (friday night)
but quickly now, before they ring ...
the bell!
~ POETRY AGAINST POVERTY ~
( photographic art created copyright-free by the author with Gemini AI / Meta AI software )
Because the conditions of
his prior affairs were
preconditioned
to his partners current condition
he would often
remove himself from
people
fearing he would be seen as someone
who hands out unsolicited advice
thinking before he spoke
he looked to futures
rather than live in the current condition
of relationships
One spoke before you brag have something
to brag about
citing that the odds of marriage
depended on the loyality of
the charters
and looking
at the current roster
the whole bunch were in trouble.
your concern for my love
is unwanted she spoke after
dining upon the exspensive steak
I refuse to allow your advances
sipping the exspensive wine.
And as for sleeping arangments
My pillow only has room enough for
one, tasting the equisitte dessert.
Now as far as we are considered
We can still be dining pals
but that love stuff has got to go!
christmas is weeks away
I will allow a gift
but no love
and romance is to be
onesided
in my favor.
Yes Madam: yes Madam I is your
loyal servant.
Than she smiled and said
realistly
if we make it through Christmas like this
I say you and I have a strong chance of being
married by Presidents day.
I certainly hope so said the guy,
cause this aint the kinda
ACTION A HEALTHY MAN
NEEDS.
tHEY MEET DURNING AUDITIONS FOR THE cHRISTMAS PLAY. sHE WAS UNDERSTUDY FOR THE LEAD ROLE
AND WAS THE 3rd CHAIR bASSOONIST FOR THE SAME PLAY.
hE WAS LEAD SINGER
FOR ALL PARTS OF THE pLAY, AND HE AND SHE BECAME INVOLVED, UNTIL
SHE THROW COLD WATER ON THERE RELATIONSHIP. wHEN THE PLAY RESUMED AFTER AUDITIONS THEY HEATED UP THERE ROMANCE AGAIN TO BE MEET WITH COMMENTS FROM ON LOOKERS AND FAMILY MEMEBERS.