Long Toasts Poems
Long Toasts Poems. Below are the most popular long Toasts by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Toasts poems by poem length and keyword.
Wee ditty about the loudly, proudly beating heart of our oh so pretty city.
No hustling..strolling along...to the rolling soundtrack..bustling throng
A musky busker hums, strums and sings their husky song...
Familiar faces..fayre made with care..displayed with flair to share..
Tip top one stop shop..rare.. hallowed not fallowed places.
Grab a seat...have a natter..nab a moreish treat..baffled by the seasonal snaffle raffle..
Becalming as disarming stallholders flatter with charming chatter..
No need to scatter whatever the weather..for once it doesn't matter.
Feast your eyes...on the fruit, veggies, flowers and pies...a treasure trove..
We loyally royally rove..Dunedin’s own homegrown orchard grove.
Hordes..maraud..applaud the smorgasbord hoard..
Toasts to our harbingers & hosts bucolic boasts...
Our locavore lair...after dawn duty on a Saturday morn..
There to share..our adored victual ritual..
Rootling & pootling...epicurean sights..sybaritic delights…
Pushing greedy needy…gourmands & gluttons’ buttons..
Fossicking..their weekly home from home outing..
Gastronomes roam.. pouting swag bags sprouting..
Never snooty....just rollicking & frolicking..
Touting this tutti fruity booty of beauty..
Believe it or not, my birthday’s been great
Though not one I would have predicted,
Assuming that I would be down in the dumps
For being so virus-restricted.
My pre-sunrise walk was delightful because
The rain I’d expected held off
And no one I passed on the street came too close
And I heard not a sneeze or a cough.
Before my first coffee, my son and his kids
Called with wishes no money could buy
And my grandson surprised me by writing a poem
Starting, “I love my nana…” Oh, my!
A flurry of phone calls and texts followed suit
Since each person I know’s stuck at home,
All with wishes so special I just don’t have room
To describe them inside of a poem.
There was breakfast and lunch and the governor’s talk
Which inspired a fun-to-do task:
With some quilting material, flowered and green,
I then stitched for myself a new mask!
Creative juice flowed so in place of a cake
I baked cupcakes to mark my big day
And my grandkids, on FaceTime, with very big puffs
Blew the flame on the candle away.
Some long-distance toasts with my aunt and some friends
And then dinner and wine with my spouse
Set my spirits on fire with feelings so strong
It would take more than water to douse.
We may have to adjust in this craziness now
To reality unlike before
But it isn’t all negative for we may find
Unexpected surprises in store.
Times get spent in eternal search,
Betwixt life and death life perch;
Holding here; holding there,
Hanging like monkey; not fully aware;
Temptations of growing higher creep in,
Like other unfulfilled desires within;
Illusions-filled dreams; nasty nightmares,
Midst these, sleep stands and stares;
Kith and kin assure: we're here,
Who truly cares? - is to none clearly sure;
Having peripherally pleased and within cursed,
Friends and relatives go around as nothing happened;
Momentary joys, like, butter over toasts, glitter,
Only to melt and make their presence blur;
Butterflies and dragonflies; moths and beetles,
Get pecked by instantly appearing eagles;
Confusions and chaos in annuls of graves end,
Eagerness of living, like untimely moon, seems crescent;
Quest, in forms of queries, persist,
At one stage, as act of death, everything does exit...
13 March 2022
those days are gone, those days of midsummer,
when Sun beat down on open roof tarmacs,
lanes of limestone houses I remember,
that sheltered the travellers with rucksacks.
black bikes parked along the streets by ramblers,
those coffee shops with aroma of toasts,
smell of chopped wood from those shop with timbers,
Italian restaurants canvassing roasts.
Those days are gone, those days of midsummer,
where leisure was routine, work too leisure,
where months flew past from May to December,
the years came and went and life was pleasure.
no fast rich cars rushed past honking their horn,
even time moved at designated pace,
school children walked in groups every morn,
every moment relished, life was no race.
Those days are gone, those days of midsummer,
when you and I were children, loved to laugh,
when play was fun and sleep restful slumber,
what we had we shared, lunch was half and half!
We laughed at school, we laughed at Sunday church,
at every excuse we met we laughed more,
in gardens, in orchards, climbing tall birch,
life was lived to the full, never a chore.
Those days are gone, those days of midsummer,
but my thoughts still wander around the streets,
loved ones in our lives I still remember,
those midsummer days are such good retreat!
I met a charming girl during church Sunday--
She was the kind of girl that I’d like to stay.
Being a gentleman, I did nothing amiss
I didn’t think life could get any better than this.
Offered to see her home, it was on my way.
She gave me a pretty smile and she said okay.
Walking and talking with her, I think I found my bliss.
I didn’t think life could get any better than this.
(Chorus)
She invited me to stick around a while.
How could I say no to such a pretty smile.
Minutes turned to hours, days to months and years;
Dates to going steady, then wedding toasts and cheers.
We showed off our baby girl at the church Sunday.
The pastor said the words to help her on her way.
Holding my two girls real close, I’m sure I found by bliss;
And I still don’t think that life gets any better than this.
(Dedicated to all booklovers who have lost their loved ones to the scourge of the termite hordes - I did)
I thought I was a bibliophile
and indulged in pedantic boasts
I'd speak of ancient tomes and stuff
revel in Academia's toasts
horror of horrors I discovered
a lover of books beyond compare
who beat me hollow at my game
whose fame and honour I cannot share
the greediest booklover of all
who mulls all words into a hill
I hate to say that to this day
I have never beaten Termite Jill
when ole Termite Jill gets just a sniff
a book or paper placed someplace
she hies herself with fearsome glee
leaving for her ilk a homing trace
and from now on you could search in vain
to try and trace out Termite Jill
In nooks and crannies, desks and shelves
but till her deed's done, you never will
and when she's chewed on till bursting gut
she lets her hungry kin-folk feed
and then when done you can be sure
they'll spawn a more ravenous seed
a million Termite Jills will be born
you cannot add their growing sum
a million more and then some more
a progression ad infinitum
a termite apocalypse looms anon
spells doom to the literal world
The termite minions move ahead
Jill's dance has the Tandava Twirl
so who now is the bibliophile
who undoubtedly fits the bill
not me the voracious reader
but the rampant, raging Termite Jill
Dawn creeping over the land
fresh sprinkling of snow
makes the garden gleam
Grandma already busy
she is preparing dinner
a fine fat goose awaits
Stuffed with chestnuts
it goes in to slowly roast
heavenly smells emerge
Stirrings from up above
The children run down
excitement shining on faces
As they spy the presents
picking the up for a shake
called to come for breakfast
Impatiently they eat their food
then outside to build a snowman
they dress it in Dad's old clothes
They sit fidgeting through service
yawning as the sermon drags on
rushing home as fast as feet can carry
At last time to open presents
a shiny new red bike for Sue
a monster truck for Gary
Mum gets jewellery and perfume
a set of tools for Dad
Grandma gets her special chair
The goose and all the trimmings ready
Dad carves and serves them all
deep silent just clatter of cutlery
As the food is demolished
everyone is now so stuffed
they flop where there is room
Get your coats and scarves on
groaning they go out carol singing
soon having great fun
Returning to hot cocoa
and toasted marshmallows
in front of a roaring fire
As the sun slowly sets
the children are sent to bed
moans that it is too early
Fall on suddenly deaf ears
now it is adult time
out come the cards and gin
Much later reeling they stagger to bed
a few too many drinks were downed in toasts
as they shared memories of past Christmas's
The two boldly open passages
Below the frank eyesight
Smelling the dull and bright packages
Of things to bring delight
What a shame!
This human organ can't smell intent
To view heart's game
Which is buried and doesn't dissent
In the morning when eyes can read
The language of heart
To at least rent mind caution legs lead
Embracing not only the art
But also the themes
To understanding the subject matter perfectly
For mind in its creams
To get well rounded and nullify abruptly
Like the Barber that barb for apárí
Onígbàjámò that dress dàda
That no hairdresser dare loose its àsírí
As no barber dare cover kódáa
In the afternoon
When clarity is setting out
For the cool moon
To take care of blackout
Train my nose to loose mask
Of deceitful smell
Drawing my view to lost and bask
What passions compel
A military man to never be afraid
But at war be able
Even when it seems triumph lacks aid
How real later cum fable
In the night
When able eyes open blind
Useless is sight
When tightly closed is mind
Train my nozzle to purge ears
Of all word roasts
In the light of troubling staged cheers
Which coup toasts
No doubt, I will miss the joy
It brings so empty
Playing with off mind like toy
Used without acuity
I wouldn't mind to cry
For forgiveness is never deserved
Unless heart is wry
Then, revenge becomes conserved
No law; no war
No law; no need to double check
Law hardly restore
Forgiveness gets fights wreck
I wouldn't mind to cry
For forgiveness is never deserved
Unless heart is wry
Then, revenge becomes conserved
Aunt Elf is brewing a Halloween treat,
something wicked, and ghoulishly special to eat.
Flesh of lizards and roaches and frogs, egad!
Aunt Elf has mixed them all into a salad.
A cauldron simmering way back of the stove,
smells of something atrocious spiked with clove,
a potion she’ll want us to chew without question,
concocted of things we’re too scared to mention.
Head of snake, eye of raven, and claws of bat,
many more gourmet fare awaits us like that.
Aunt Elf is famous for making a sumptuous dish,
Oh! Did I dare tell, she is the county witch?
But all we want is some fun with spooky ghosts
Or bloody masks walking along their undead hosts
And lots of yummy candies lined up on houses’ posts
That’s our kind of Hallow, laughing through mallow toasts!
*couplet and monorhyme*
===========
Written by: nette onclaud
For: Russell Sivey’s Halloween Fun, 2012
now, for Skat's Halloween Contest
With voices raised in songs of ancient lore,
upon those hills our daffodils will sway.
With noble hearts their spirits will restore
as Wales with pride recalls St David’s Day.
The dragon’s tale is told in fields of green.
It speaks of leeks in Wales and toasts their name.
Its bravery and valour are both seen –
in town and country they will boast their fame.
Daffodils with noble hearts will sway.
Ah yes, they say, it is St David’s Day.
(Writing one for every 1 March, which is St David's Day; this, as my others are, was put on display for the month of March in Carmarthen Library in Wales, UK)