Long Vegetarian Poems
Long Vegetarian Poems. Below are the most popular long Vegetarian by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Vegetarian poems by poem length and keyword.
Sometimes I think the way we view the world is a little antiquarian
for instance we have words to label everyone…from Capricorn to Sagittarian…
Take Deborah and I…we don’t eat meat…we are proudly vegetarian
though occasionally we will eat fish…which makes us pescatarian.
and since we’ve been known to eat a burger…we are most assuredly hypocritarian.
however we do not care what you eat…because we’re not authoritarian.
And though we believe in eating food that is predominantly agrarian
we know it doesn’t matter what you eat…if you are humanitarian.
It doesn’t matter if you are straight or gay…black, white or Hungarian.
If you’re Democrat, Republican, Independent or Libertarian.
It doesn’t matter…if you’re Catholic, Muslim or Sectarian
If you’re a doctor, or a lawyer…a dentist…a Veterinarian…
It doesn’t matter the type of music you like…rap, pop or opera that’s Wagnerian
or how you like your donut cream…whipped…butter…or Bavarian.
I think it’s time to apologize and end this poem
for I have shamefully become aware…
I can’t remember where I was going with it…
and, I imagine you…no longer care.
But let me end with these two hopes…
that you are not a strict grammarian…
and that we all may someday live…
in a world…
egalitarian.
Being Veggie
Here I am.
From top to toe
A meat-free human
Don't ya know
People asked me
Why the shoes?
I do not eat them.
I'd often muse..
But now I'm older
And life's moved on
With larger issues
To dwell upon
I'll soon be forty
Years a veg.
No highland castle
Or trust fund hedge
My account is clear.
My conscience too
But still with plenty
More to do
It thrills my soul
The human-race
Denies nutrition
With a face
A greater cause
Now lies before
The victims no longer
Just legs of four
The truth is out.
Our selfish ways
May just have numbered
All our days..
And who'd have thought
To cure our blindness
We must return
To love and kindness.
Jinjagoliath
23rd September 2021
Lumping the bad ones, and ouch, some of these are pretty bad.
My Thought on Endicott
My name is Chevy Endicott
I am Chevy, you are not.
Endicott Peabody is my backward brother,
and there is no other.
We make these statements, tongue in cheek,
just because we are unique,
and that's all I have to say
about Endicott today.
Quantum Brain
She suffered depression, postpartum.
Her kids, she didn't even want 'em,
The doc looked into her head,
and cleared things up when he said
her brain was entangled and quantum.
Ovoid, Pedagogic Creature
An ovoid creature, intoned, pedagogic,
a speech which left the students catatonic.
In reasoning that eluded me
he abruptly concluded, "See -
that's logic!"
Coming Out
The Grimms were academic sages,
locking souls in yellowed pages,
till two of them came out
as Wolf to Red would gayly shout,
"I haven't seen you in ages".
Netanyahu
Netanyahu,
I question you
and your use of might,
and I'm not an antisemite.
Grumpy
Grumpy,
he was, and why? Disney's dwarf was stumpy.
At birth, he was dwarfened,
only to be orphaned.
Mammy
Mammy, mammy don't you know me?
No, I don't believe we've met.
Perhaps, there's something you can show me.
to prove you're not all wet.
Could it be that she'd forgot?
Let's listen in, let's hear
the would be mother, the sniveling snot,
to see if he's one she held dear.
Mammy, mammy, I've walked many a mile
just so I could see your smile.
Just keep talkin', talkin's free,
while I place a call to security.
Probability of Blow Up
Mercury that rises
bumps the odds,
and tweaks the ire of the gods,
that I may blow up and dies-es,
but when the weather's cool or fair,
there is no reason to despair.
The probability then decreases,
that I will be in pieces.
A Vegetarian Heard
A vegetarian heard the rant
coming from a plant.
Don't you understand, it is no good,
I wasn't born to be your food.
Kentucky
I know I've got to try
before my soul and spirit fly
to make it to Kentucky before I die
where the music of eternity
is the best and it is free.
Price of Oil
For what ideals shall we strive -
for what must we work and toil?
Is the reason that we shall live
to be the price of oil?
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.
Here I am.
From top to toe
A meat-free human
Don't ya know
People asked me
Why the shoes?
I do not eat them.
I'd often muse..
But now I'm older
And life's moved on
With larger issues
To dwell upon
I'll soon be forty
Years a veg.
No highland castle
Or trust fund hedge
My account is clear.
My conscience too
But still with plenty
More to do
It thrills my soul
The human-race
Denies nutrition
With a face
A greater cause
Now lies before
The victims no longer
Just legs of four
The truth is out.
Our selfish ways
May just have numbered
All our days..
And who'd have thought
To cure our blindness
We must return
To love and kindness.
Copyright © Christopher Grieves | Year originally Posted 2021
I've been a vegetarian since 1999, so I don't know why I write poems like this.
The Lion and the Lamb
Lamb said, "Violence is not the way of God."
Lion said to Lamb, "That's odd"
(and I quote verbatim)
just before he ate 'im.
Lion's Face Splattered Across the Front Page
Lion was out on parole
when he saw a Gazelle and ate him whole.
His attorney apologized for the pain
and would carefully explain
that the jungle king would plead insane,
but the jury found he was not insane, but droll
when he said he should've topped him with a jelly roll.
Carnivore Herbivore Dialog
The carnivore spoke, "I eat animals raw,
according to the jungle law".
The herbivore replied, "I won't even try it,
I observe a strictly vegan diet",
as he proceeded to gently chew
a burger of mushrooms and tofu.
The predator ate him in one gulp and said,
"I prefer my dinner to be grass fed".
He hurled his plate of meat-free food;
The waitress thought him rather rude.
“Full English breakfast here all day
“Or vegetarian, you say.”
The zombie pointed to the sign
And shouted loudly, “I want mine.”
“So bring him here – no, bring me two.
“Oh, what the heck, I’ll start with you.”
“But, sir, you can’t eat me,” she said,
As he was gnawing at her head.
“I’m not a veggie – I eat meat.
“Now please remain there in your seat.
“I’ll get your breakfast; say your grace.
“For twenty dollars, stuff your face.”
She dragged a vegan from the street
And said, “You’re good enough to eat.”
The vegan – soon a zombie too –
Demanded human…in tofu.”
Jack Horne For Linda-Marie's Creatures of the Night
Introducing my roommate Leong to my Saturday morning cartoon binge habit proved to be one of my BEST ideas EVER. She’s a very animated watcher, frequently laughing, gasping in horror and, in the end, delighted by these silly shows.
It’s almost a case for convergent evolution, how two creatures, from opposite ends of culture and the world can be so similar.
I find myself watching her, for her reaction, as much as the shows themselves - I’ve seen them before but I rediscover them vicariously and emotionally through her. We can spend hours dissecting character arcs and plot twists - we’ve found a small, stress-free heaven.
It’s 10:40am Sunday morning and Leong is dipping celery in barbecue sauce for breakfast again. “THAT’s just gross,” I deem, holding my hand up to block my view of this travesty.
“You should TALK,” she says, “Flexatarian!”
I gasped, like a slapped Chris Rock in the face of this naked aggression. “Why am I a flexatarian! I demand, my mind reeling for context, “because I ordered the potato burrito at taco bell?” I look around for some sort of rescue or validation, but we’re alone.
“That’s so FAUX,” I say, in an injured voice, shaking my head sadly. “I’m by the book carnivore,” I say, holding my fingers in a three-fingered girl scout pledge.
“And you have to live with that trauma,” Leong says, scooping an extra large dollop of sauce with her celery as I make gagging and heaving sounds.
.
slang
Flexatarian - someone who’s only a vegetarian when it’s convenient or showy.
faux - untrue
*Convergent evolution: how life evolves in certain predictable ways because they work the best. For example: how flying has evolved independently at least four times on earth: in birds, bats, insects, and pterosaurs. Ultimately, this theory predicts that we will meet other “humans” if we ever get out and explore the universe - those Star Trek green, human aliens may actually be real somewhere.
*I have a no “show off” rule which this may violate..
She told me that she never had real spaghetti before.
Of course she's had spaghetti before but not in the sense that made it worthwhile.
When I asked why she replied that it didn't feel real.
That in a sense it was pasta.
She always broke the noodles when she made it.
She developed a fear that everything would boil over and catch fire.
That part of the noodles would be too crunchy.
All of it would never fit in the pot.
Her mother always broke the noodles so it just became habit.
In the same breath.
She told me at least once,
That she'd like to twirl the noodles around the fork.
The complete taste and feel of what makes it spaghetti.
The cheese blending into the sauce.
The big ball of noodles just wrapping around the fork waiting to be bit.
When I asked about the meatballs she laughed,
She was vegetarian
What use is a poet,
if without a pen,
like a chef without
a sharp set of knives.
How bland is the soup,
without sincere ingredients.
Nourishing soul food needs
fresh free verses of vegetables,
sweet syllables of stock
and an alliteration of
parmesan, paprika or parsley.
It is pointless being mute,
when there is so much to say.
But too much salt in the soup,
can leave a bitter taste.
No pen scribes with the same garnish,
each pair of eyes focus differently.
Like they say,
too many grammar police,
can spoil the broth.
Too much pepper in
a poem will lead to sneezing.
Not all poets,
share the same beliefs.
Not all soup lovers,
enjoy chicken soup-
especially those with a
vegetarian vocabulary.
In the absence of judgement,
words becomes pure.
With the right ingredients,
the soup is a symphony of flavours.
Let the blood that flows
from your veins,
become the ink that
creates the perfect soup.