Best Lap Up Poems
A Tea Party for Friends
I’m having a tea party for some friends
To celebrate friendship that never ends
There's three cats, one dog and my teddy bear
He’s the one who’s sat on his tiny chair.
Mommy provided her poshest tea set
It’s made from fine bone china of the best
Cats lap up milky tea, not so the dog
He will drink it as it comes from the pot.
I have dog and cat biscuits for a treat
Teddy and I’ll eat cake sugary sweet
Then when we have had sufficient to eat
We’ll put on music and dance on our feet.
Finishing the party with a sing-song
With mom joining in and singing along
Soon it’s come time for an afternoon nap
We all fall asleep right there on the mat.
6th November 2021
Rhyming Me A Poem 2 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Eve Roper
Photo number 4 chosen
time cloaked fierce wrath
I gave up the past or the wind
wipe the chill off my flesh
bury the sun in brine
watch the warped beams
an intricate mosaic
bathing inside
the dripping rays
In utter
crystal testimony
pectoriloquy
squiggles sloppy stencils
shattered insights
defiant & resistant
shoreless traveler mood
of
braided stories drifting
left unmarked
unsoiled
knead to the ground
lap up the virgin earth
with
my thirsty soul
tangible
&sprawled
untouched
by the
contaminated
fingers
of
perception.
my
broken
reflection
on
endless pages of poetry
perfectly aligned
melting
into
unrefined masterpiece
1st place contest winner
You Say Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Family gathers for Thanksgiving dinner
As you step into grandma's home
You smell the savory aromas
Turkey is stuffed and cooking in the oven
Glazed ham garnished with pineapple and cherries
We’re getting very anxious for homemade buns to rise
Table is decked with grandma’s fine china
Table settings and white lace linen
Fresh Thanksgiving Autumn floral bouquet,
Candles flicker in-tall thin brass candleholders
Salad, asparagus and cheese sauce,
Mashed potatoes and gravy,
Cranberry sauce,
Cinnamon sweet potatoes garnished with marshmallows
Ambrosia fruit salad, cherry and pumpkin pies
Apple crisp with caramel sauce a prize
Punch bowl filled to the brim
With eggnog and hot cinnamon schnapps
A second ham sits in the baking pan on the stove
Of balance over the burner knobs
Pa picks up the lid to take a peek
Did a hip-hop back
As it slides off the top of stove onto the floor
Bathing everyone around with sweet greasy glaze
For once I wish I had Rover and Max around to lap up the floor
As they were locked up in their dog cage so they wouldn’t be underfoot
Slipping and sliding and grabbing on to the counters I whispered
Please dogs come and save us from this wet dirty job
We dropped plenty of towels and got a mop and a bucket of suds
To sup- up the entire sweet greasy glaze
Finally the crazy mayhem was over
Turned to face the table and held our composure
Bless us, Oh Lord,
and these thy gifts which
we are about to receive from thy bounty,
through Christ, Our Lord.
Amen.
Moaning and groaning too stuffed to move
Rubbing their bellies that are just ready to bust
Still enough food left over for everyone to take home
11/24/2016
northwest jewel thieves stalk.
waiting for the storm to still.
then lap up diamonds!
Squeeze the air right out my chest,
You always gave me your best.
Lap up the residue,
With your speech,
You always loved… like a leech.
Carve your initials into my bare frame,
Even in the light you’re still the same.
Infuse me with your wild fire,
Until,
I have nothing
left to give.
By: Sabina Nicole
The
girl
borrowed
trouble from
future world full of
improbabilities that meant
the cat she brought to us and we gave her milk and soup
must be a fizzy ,fuzzy, improbable creature back to past to lap up our milk.
God winked at me and smiled a snail
In robes of Neptune's Abigail
In the spiral stairs the sea is bare
To a crisp assail ,a snail in veil
The prince of brine a rainbow hue
a musing glob of earth and sea
You lap up the milk of moon-dew
You are as sweet as you should be
Hidden Beauty - Poetry Contest
Sponsor Rhonda Johnson-Saunders
20th January,2015
MyPuss
Full of fun- frolic and mischief too
My Puss filled my heart with joy;
What antics he would like to do
Oh what objects were his toy.
Behind the curtain, beneath the chair
My puss played bereft of single care.
Jump and catch the leaves falling
and floating down over gentle breeze;
Oft times in sun simply lolling
Or chasing squirrels and the geese.
Climbing quickly trees in fright
when puppies barked at him in sight.
Grooming self by licks of tongue
And cleansing as to shine his fur;
My puss enjoyed a gentle stroke
And he would quickly start to purr.
He hated bath and hated rain
From water and soap he would refrain.
Lap up milk he would from a saucer
It was his favorite meal of the day;
Soon he would its taste savour
But meat and fish made him happy and gay.
He enjoyed playing with the mouse
that catch he could around the house.
Like butterflies fluttering in the sky
Puss enriched my life like an angel;
Like butterflies fluttering in the sky
He flutterred away to be an angel.
In my dreams he comes and purrs
And entices me with his shiny fur.
Remember your little pinafore?
You were sixteen.
I? Twenty-Four.
Now here you come through that door.
I spill out of my dress and on to the floor.
Lap up the moisture like a dog
So you may quench your thirst.
I become a sultry fog.
And on this mostly perfect night
Of my mostly miserable life
I mute the garish city lights.
Your pure childhood fantasy;
You'll soon hate me;
You'll see.
The Ruba’iyat of Créteil Lake – Part Eight
At her feet gather daily plumage dark white to brown leather
Pigeons geese crows sparrows larks and wild ducks in sunset colour
And the resident owners of the waters by the fleet
The snow-white swan-lake ships gliding majestic in clover
Every day come older women with children or decrepit
With sling bags stuffed with golden crumbs of yesterday’s baguette
Some Berber women with sacks of semolina for couscous
All to seek good works at her feet where waves lap up and beat
Where the lazy louts of the spoilt winged clans wait on one leg
Pretend to keep an appointment though not to seem to beg
By rushing to providers with an air: hail dope well met!
Till some Labrador runs amuck just missing a juicy leg
Just then on that well-worn wooden bridge past the portcullis
Did Old Khayyam steal in a glance a wisp of a form bliss
Doe-eyed leaning on the rail in a gossamer negligee
The infinitely lamented thing that’s this lady all miss
Once more the Lass from Lahore lifts her dark diamond eyes
The breeze softly displaces the cowlick from vision’s disguise
Does she espy the Bard strain his thoughts fingers through his beard
While the Dreamer Dame of the lake leaves without much choice!
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
Wanderlust Wolf
Icicles overwhelmed the running beast
It could not escape from nature or bitter winter
Morbid frost formed about its coat of fur
Fierce storms held a grip down to the soul, rolled wet
Ran in the face of reason in the wild, froze to the skin
Black forest hid deep needles in the windy pine
Howls in the distance screamed for spring
Silver wolf could not stop or it would die
Chasing more than dreams, hunger on its mind
Solid crystals cling to him; grow even colder, under branch and trees
Thick on the fur a heavy burden
Weighed down like some punishment for crimes committed
Snows sentence for the beast long overdue
For killing soft white bunnies and other woodland creatures from its past
Poor animals were torn apart for what
All they wanted out of life was a simple drink
Clear fresh water to lap up with their soft little lips
One moment a Bambi like baby deer is standing there
Bowing head down on the gentle brook
Innocently enjoying life in a tender moment
It looks up with soft brown eyes; then Bam!
Wolf charges from the woods with savage anger
Rips off its tiny head, feasts on its carcass fast
Blood spewing, body parts fly, primal lust ensues with carnage
Not a happy ending but an ending none the less for our fury friend
Silver wolf hunts in winters lost, in thoughts and wanderlust
Cares only for survival as frost forms the frozen face
Snow covers trees and beast, the cost of living in the woods
Under layers of fur, cruel things are bound to happen in the cold
Created on 3/20/15 for “Canis Lupus the Wolf” - Poetry Contest sponsored by Shadow Hamilton
The thrill of the hunt was captured
he looked at the many deer in the park
his eyes were on whitetails
a doe and her fawns,
fawns born only a few weeks ago
all with white spots on their backs
and reddish hues
that were hidden
by the tall trees in the dark
instinctively, they kept looking around
their eyes peeking out
at the moonlit forest night
soon the doe and fawns
move furtively to a nearby pond
he follows their trail
and continues to espy
his steps cracking twigs
and the stillness of the night
the white tail thirstily
lap up water from the pond
their innocent eyes darting,
darting around for despair
he edges in closer
the thrill of the hunt
alarm bells set off in the deer as they inhale
his scent
noses ruffling the air
again and again
and then they run,
they run for their lives
but not before
he opened up his equipment bag,
a bag that carried his shot gun
and ammo, night vision goggles
and the like
as part of federal parks program
of biology and wildlife,
c/o wildlife eradication
his job was to take shots
sometimes not to his liking
this time was no different
he aimed ... focused his scope
and caught, and caught
the whitetails square
he had closed the distance
with a pull and a click
his heart racing,
racing for speeding
pictures of capture
he looks through the silver forest
and see the doe and fawns are down,
down river off into the night
reality sinks in
the trees bend in enrapture, dance
one for nature tonight
he smiles, too
he got his picture and data
connie pachecho
3/15/17
Who you calling a soupy sap? Soupy.
I like slurping soup when it turns into sloup
‘Cause I been staying up way too long
Sippin’ soup into the wee hours of night,
Sometines, I even make it to the Morning light
My head’s full of mystery and wonder
As I lap up your lyrics and huff up your haikus
I stir up the pot with a few of mine own
I’m such a soupy sap, I am
I just love getting soupy with strangers as friends
Never knowing who I just might find
Perhaps, another like mind, or not
I just like it, love it, when you’re soupy and hot
Filling my head with dreams, wit and pondering plots
Let the note that you once wrote
Catch a glimmer of fame
And add it to the soup
Let it dissolve my brain
And evolve my frame of mind
Through time
And it gives me hope
It just may be the extra added flavor -
We’ve all been waiting for. . .
So, I say it again, who you callin’ soupy? Soupy.
I like it when you’re soupy, my friend
I ‘ll like you soupy to the end
Keep it tame but take no prisoners
Nobody wants sloppy seconds
Certainly, nothing artificial
So always keep it real, from the heart
At the very least, from the Art.
Come, be a part of my world
As I enter yours.
So, go ahead. . .
Get soupy, sloppy soupy
Blazed, glazed and gone sloupy
I tale you, there's really something soupy going on here
Oh my, lots of sloupiness
Oh my goodness, too much soupiness!
As if that was even possible.
This is just how I get when I taste your poems on poetrysoup.
I just want to
Walk within her words of innocence
hand in paw a steady vigilance
As she goes about her path of life
till her soul is a force not a myth
and one the world won’t contend with
I just want to
Sit in silence within her insecurity
lap up the tears of invulnerability
Steady her hackle through Those hidden times
And fight threw the trying emotions when she can’t
If only this confused world would let me pant
I just want to
to taste her breath
upon my neck
and feel her words of lust
lay her stanza down in a bed
and cover her thoughts with love.
I just want
Lap up those fallen to the floor food crumbs,
you greedy dog
You love to set the table for three,
knowing there will be just one guest — you only
Home alone ... you filthy animal
Gluttonously do you gorge,
food falling from your mouth onto the floor
And after the last burped bite,
you love to get on all four
Lapping that greedy dog tongue,
getting those fallen crumbs
Yum-yum
Now drunkenly sitting again at the feast table,
with your sleepy head laying in vomit
You snore and dream of Scooby-Doo snacks,
hoping to gobble up all that falls your way
A greedy dog you are, who never get enough
All-you-can-eat is your favorite meal buffet
Then after the last belched bite,
you love to get on all four
And lap that greedy dog tongue,
eating every fallen crumb off the dirty floor