Munches Poems | Examples

Getting On A Bit

Dorian Grey
has lost all trace of his self-image.
Like many elderly male models,
there are now no mirrors in his mind.
Musty images of his centenarius youth
are hid in crusty shoeboxes.

Like many, he collects his social security,
munches slowly on a daily bowl of Cheerios,
then entertains himself
by watching cat videos on YouTube.

Sometimes, he pens the odd melancholy muse
as do many another, well versed,
superannuated
senior citizen.

The Butterfly

As she drinks nectar from a flower, sweetness from heaven falls like dew  
anointed with a gentle rain amidst sun showers she appears as if on cue
 
Lifting her wings she lands on a Zinnia beneath a tinted sky of April blue 
flight of fancy fanning fast, fabulous marvel, she is beauty true on true 

I'm in awe of such natural beauty, her wings resemble church stained glass
I've been captivated by the butterflies lifecycle ever since I was a lass

An egg hatches into a wriggly caterpillar, which munches foliage but that's fine
it transforms into a chrysalis, emerging as a butterfly in the sky and looks divine!

Missy Sue

Missy Sue makes malted milk shakes
and she savors marmalade,
macaroons and snickerdoodles
and sweet souffles she has made.

Sue is messy slicing melons,
strawberries and mangoes too.
Sue munches seeds and celery sticks.
She mixes meats, making stew.

Milk chocolate -mouth-watering,
sweet and marvelously mild -
satisfies Missy Sue
mainly if it is Swiss styled!

The Mouse with the Hat

The mouse jumped
Off the fire hydrant
His hat flies up
Into the distance
He munches some cheese
Spits on the floor
Makes a split
Tumbles over
Laughs in peels
Waves goodbye

Watching a Worm

The nematode, only oms
And then of course, noms
And munches, 
without, really 
munching much at all.
No teeth.

Ah.
To move in the mulch.
a thicket
of touch
not really 
knowing where or,
how
you are.
A siphon of silicone
sipping at soil
silent and secure.

But,
at any sudden moment,
you might get 
all 
your hearts broken, (five, good grief)
then broke again
and again (five of em)
by the bastardized beak
of some god-damn animal?

Rough.
But,
the worm
being herself
wiggles anyway and says: 
“I am a worm.
I do what worms do.
I swam through the rain, once
to sleep tail to tail with some woman, man, I don't know
I wormed through the pit of a
turnip bit, once.
It was warm enough 
to feel like rainlight.”

And you wasn't awarded
remembered, or
understood.
You was ignoreded,
dismembered, and
stood on.

So.
Why worry.
There really are worse things
in life
than to wiggle.

Sally the Slow Worm

In this little rhyme I would like to confirm 
I have personally seen in action Sally slow worm
Doesn't move fast as she goes about her day
No other worm like creatures get in her way 

Sally leaves her hole at a little after eight 
Will be visiting her friend if she can wait 
She munches some grass for extra power
Hasn't gone very far I'm afraid this hour 

Sally arrives at her friend's hole at dead on four
Will be staying the night but I'm not really sure
Sally the slow worm is pleased with the journey made
So be careful dear gardener where you put that spade

Cross Chewer

3 black churches 
turned into smolder
a flint toothed ogre 
munches a wooden cross
in the shadows
of his black soot mind

Depression

DEPRESSION

Diarrhea of the brain
Tiredness in my bones
Trouble focusing and concentrating
Unhappiness feelings over thrown
Anger in my blood
Irritability shaken adult syndrome
Frustration floating in my cranium
Loss of interest in pleasures
Of fun activities too much or too little
Sleep issues, eyes crying eating facial tissues
No energy, wake up tired blood vessels
Blah! Blah! Blah!
Craving unhealthy foods, put the Die is diabetes
Anxiety isolation... robbed a candy store got the munches
feelings of severe despondency and dejection.
I got self-doubt creeping and that is swiftly turning into  my real reflection
"depression"

For Contest: Depression
Sponsored by: Lewis Raynes

2/26/18
©2018

Langland's Piers the Ploughman Much Shrunk

\

Stargazing

Stargazing

Empty stare no stars in sight nor light he eats his Milky Way with telescopic grind
munches another here and there anticipates the Universe with all its loony moons

Assembles concentric mirrors in horizontal guise wishes himself light years away
where prisms focus rainbows at the top of a star trek feeding the mountain’s girth

Too late it dawns on him that sugar urine disease has distorted his fanciful vision he
can’t see the miracles and his fading comet might as well ingest another milky way

The Pen

"The pen is mightier than the sword"
- In general, I guess that's true
But mine's a lazy blighter;
It treats sloth as a bloody virtue

It's not the liveliest of beasts
It's always at a halt
It likes staring at blank paper
As though that's the thing at fault
 
It lives a charmed sedentary life
Full speed is torpidly inert
It charges around at the pace of a slug
When flat out and alert

My pen possesses zero 'nift' -
I can't fault it for being too nifty
Its' sweet repose is a full-on doze
It thinks saving ink is thrifty

It's scintillatingly steady
So passively at peace
Unchanging in its' inactivity
Like a grazing wildebeest

So languid and so supine
As it munches on my thought
Remaining ever restful
Seeing hibernation as a sport

It's frustratingly calm and fixed
To the point of being plain dull
And that's when it's being lively
It's worse still, when in a lull

But now and then I drag it
Out of its' latent, dormant air
Force it to get some exercise
And treat my thoughts with care

Often it’s quite useless
It's rare for the spark to light -
But when thought and pen work as one
Well, that's the time I write

Bunny Rabbit

My bunny rabbit is so bold,
always wanting out.
From the hutch I keep it in,
since it got so stout.

Sits there wriggling it's fluffy ears,
and the tip of its pinky nose.
He's such a rolly polly guy,
and knows it I suppose.

Just like me he can't resist
temptation in his way.
Munches through four carrots,
then lays down in the hay.

I'm tempted now to let him out,
just to watch him play.
Brush his long shaggy hair.
But then I know he'll stay.

Because I can't resist him,
and the joy he brings to me.
All evening now we'll cuddle up,
on the sofa and watch T.V.

Pimples

The mirror stands cracked,
Neglected at the corner,
The broken glass wearing a coat,
Of a fine film of dust.
She no longer dares…
To look, nor does she care.

Her face, heart shaped,
Her eyes, bright and brown
Her skin a light shade of chocolate,
Her hands gently as if afraid, run down her face,
As if in fear they will hurt her skin.

Her face is rough,
Like the plains in the barren quarry,
Gingerly she touches each part,
The tears fall no more,
It’s part of her this skin
That strives to bring her loads of pain.

She walks the streets head held high,
She no longer cowers,
 She stands straight and tall

Her heart threatens to tremble
As her peers point and giggle,
She can hear their words,
Shooting daggers into her heart,
“Look at her, look at her skin! Can’t she do something,
 Aaargh some people! I just lost my appetite nkt”

A sad smile curls her lips,
She no longer pouts,
She knows she has done her best
The medicines, the creams, the ointments
Washed with peroxide but no, no change
Her skin remains stubborn
So she munches on, smiling to herself
She had a choice to live happy or in misery
She choose to happiness even the way she is.

Iggy, My Bearded Dragon

In my house there is a monster,
Who’s growing every day,
He’s usually quite happy,
In his own reptilian way.
He often watches TV,
He doesn’t care which side,
He really looks quite funny
When his mouth is open wide.
It cools him off when he is hot
He does it all the time,
Locusts are his favourite treat,
He eats them up just fine,
He munches and he crunches them,
It‘s quite a sight to watch,
But even more fascinating
Is when he makes a catch.
He might be multi-coloured,
With prickles on his tough skin,
His spiky beard can blacken, 
And he makes a right old din, 
I love my friendly monster,
Not everyone can say,
They have their very own dragon
To play with every day.

The Thinker

Koala the Australian version of. “The Thinker”, sits high.
Ponders the spicy tang of his next meal then, he’ll sleep for hours.
People gawk at him, as he munches eucalyptus.

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