Best Litre Poems
500 grms Stardust
2 Tablespoons of Rose dew
2 Tablespoons of Lavender
Zest of suggestion
25 Kisses
50 Smiles
10 Pieces of candle light
25 Heartbeats
2 Holding hands
12 Passion flowers
Sprinklea few more kisses
Slowly blend with half litre
of joyful tears
Stir with Cupids arrow until
of a beautiful consistancy
Pinch of baking powder
just to get he rise
Cook in the perfect ambience
Tis non fattening, but eat in
moderation, beware of the
consequences
Categories:
litre, funny
Form:
Girls of a New chapel opened in Wales
Heard about the struggle that two sisters in Uganda heed
A two hour round trip down mountain and vales
Twice a day to get 20 litre of water for family needs.
So they baked cakes organised fund raising
The colliery band and local choir helped them out
Even had a sponsored walk up Pen-y-fan *carrying
Water bottles to emulate the Uganda girls plight
They raised £1500 in a short time
Handing it over to the Tear Fund chairman
This will go towards a storage tank for water, that's fine
Plus Spring wells to alleviate some of the problem
This is news that shows the good grace of these children
The wanting to help the less fortunate.
The ability to think of others, finding a way to help
Giving up their time to raise money to donate
* pen-y-fan is in the Brecon Beacons a desolate area where the SAS do their training
Penned 20 October 2014
Categories:
litre, children,
Form:
Rhyme
You said you got my back
But when i turn around i see no one
You promised to make me special
But am feeling so cheap,damn am on special
You thought you love me perhaps
But now am drinking a litre per-herbs
**** felt like you stabbing my heart and now it disturbs
The blood flow now my heart is leaking
So i thought i should just write a poem
So ama transport the food myself cause iam my own tube phloem
Neglected my friends and family so it was only just us two
Even got your name on my skin in a form of a tattoo
Die for you? oh yes i would have done that too
Am gone now
Wont even turn back
I'm scared of wrong turns
You watched me as the sun-burns
My forehead,heavy stuff on my mind **** feels like i have four heads
I guess i slept like a log and i just woke up in the fire place
You expected me to fold myself in half like a brief-case
I was going to brief you about the case
But now i finally stood up
Hold myself together mybe am bio
Five fingers in the air including the palm,bye yooo
Categories:
litre, abuse, anger, art,
Form:
Prose Poetry
I didn’t know what I would feel about Doug Gay,
But I looked for a motorbike outside the church,
To reinforce his black biker jacket and sociology,
Which superseded church goers and that bunch.
I made it one of the first things I did in Glasgow,
To spy on the sanity crutches of its gem leaders,
Of the contemporary church the ancient throw,
To understand my place in society, had readers’.
I actually managed to have a short conversation,
With him, where I did inquire about monasteries,
And he told me that there was an abby, fixation,
Which he attended often for all his quandaries.
I felt that Doug Gay thought that this discourse,
Was important for what direction I took for sense,
And I knew he wished to replace choice, of course,
For serendipity, onto which god could map, hence.
It was an ephemeral chat, but I kept the dalliance,
And I felt efflorescence from my litre against religion,
Because I’d confirmed that Doug’s bold defiance,
Of the traditional church was fuelled by abbey liaison.
He related the bucolic abbey to Christian theology,
Saying that the Glasgow Christian scene was demesne,
And was a harbinger to the students was cosmology,
By relegating the church’s Jesus to erstwhile, totally.
He said that his god or Jesus had petrichor sweet,
Unlike the nauseating odour of the church stated,
Giving him propinquity to redolent credence neat,
Because he was historical, within the abbey gated.
I appreciated the Late, Late Service somewhat, bits,
His modern worship service of dance, so rebellious,
And now the Rev Doug Gay diligently and surely sits,
As a Glasgow University lecturer in studies religious.
Categories:
litre, culture, dance, education, god,
Form:
Quatrain
Peter met Rita
He was so pleased to meet her
They went on a date, so Peter could treat her
On the date, Peter challenged Rita to a game of cards
(He thought he could beat her)
In the game, Rita was beating Peter
Peter called Rita a cheater
He said “Rita, you need to play neater”
You are a big cheater!
“Rita, you are a big, big, big cheater” shouted Peter
(Peter was a repeater)
The following week, Peter met up again with Rita
Peter told Rita, he was sorry to call her a cheater
He asked if they could meet up again
(Him being a repeater!)
They later enjoyed a night out
With a litre of Margarita
Categories:
litre, funny,
Form:
Alliteration
*****************
blemished sky erupts
a waterfall... a river
the cormorant dived
the mile high eagle
hunting... not gone unnoticed
meercats wary
heavy rain... torrents
one litre... one kilo...
man will make you pay
wildflower meadow
trampled... flattened by children
educate them now
take my hand... nature
I will guide you through the wilds
walking weekends
within nature
what piques you most
true love or instinct
i love you and how
often we've sat together
talking with our eyes
i love you and how
I'm seduced... my legs buckle
the land of Utopia waits
our hearts beat as one
seeking true loves rapture
propagation
star dusted...
supernovas... sunshine done...
planet earth... roasted
volcanos erupt
yellowstone reservation
mass extinction
swallows winging
how many miles... salvation
tagged... we now know
near mid spring... joking
winter will not let go
will summer make it
where are the insects
winters ate them... everyone
wildlife won't survive
a fact of life... food
whatever species you are
Mars... all life extinct
fly me to the moon
hey... do not be too hasty
we need planet 'B'
the oceans burning
sun rising from its depths
tanker's flaming oil
happy Easter
a moment of respite
no... sorry... bad joke
****************
Categories:
litre, nature,
Form:
Haiku
Zero chills
Poping pills
Month 9 panctured belly
Baby never made it
Mama still shaking booty
Thursday reaggae
Still lit she feel
Someone call Dr dolittle
I got a litre of baby bloody juice
Lit mamma,s litter
Littered by the lit mama
Little she knows
Pappy needs answers
The child of destiny
Denied to rise
God,s messager
Decided to pull a driveby
Cold dead flashed in the sewer
Into the sewer it goes
All its dreams down the sewer
Mama saw it as ****
Just another cycle
Menstrual juice she saw
Her body her rules
Her booty they drool
Not ready
Deffinately bouncing back
Under the mat
The dirt goes
Ostrichy in the sand
Heads down
Mama is ahead
Perfectionist in heads
Taking it hard
Lit she says
Only remember
He laughs last
laughs loudest
The service provider
Comes pretty soon
Earthly bridal you are
Chosen by earthlings
Down you will go
Consequencies must face
Trust me Papa will get you
Good he will get you
Categories:
litre, abortion,
Form:
Madah
A Sophisticated Drink
It stood there on the table a litre bottle of martini stuff
made in a factory in Milan and has nothing to do with
proper wine. The workers are basely underpaid, when
they ask a rise the get served martini for breakfast-.
Or perhaps I´m wrong and it is in South Africa where
sober wine workers get fired because they are unionised
and do ask for a better wage. Martini is a cheap product
that has been given a great write up, a liquid of alcohol,
water and some good smelling herbs.
The mystery is not solved who had put the bottle on my
table? In a book by Somerset Morgan an ill willed woman
put a bottle of whisky by a vase of flowers for a woman
she didn´t like, to find. The disliked woman found and drank
the whisky- straight from the bottle. She now a tart in bars
sits on men´s lap for a drink, as the ambiguity continues,
like cigarette smoke inhaled and exhaled in a deep dream
of a smoker who has recently quit.
Categories:
litre, good morning, good night,
Form:
Blank verse
Blood and now…
By Stanley Russell Harris
The new mad author
& A Poetry Soup honourably mentioned poet
Blood and now…
Bite the bullet
taste the sweet blood near
near here flowing from the heart
free as life blood can be
free to give back life you see
our two hearts might beat as one
as we lay together on the floor
our blood groups matched
so were not ignored
not one litre not two but three
I willingly gave to thee
There is more of my blood in you
than what is left in me it’s true
your life this day I did save
by giving my blood just so
on February 29th you know
there is one leap year in four you know
I see your face your stubble chin
the worry lines your forehead shows
now and then I see them you know
as my blood into you does flow
I have always admired you you know
from a distance I hid my glow
my face did blush I know it’s true
it did every time I saw you
I knew of course from that first time
you were to be my Valentine
but in the hue of the fights
that special time was never right
could you not feel the heat from me
did your eyes not really see
my heart was worn on my sleeve
all my colleagues could it see
were you really blind of the love of me
should I now take the chance
of this day and its romance
tell you what I really think
gosh our clothes really do stink
I had not washed for a week or two
the nurses were so good it’s true
we were bathed that was luck
but to put our dirty clothes back on
what was with that that was so wrong
I think I will swallow my pride
and ask you to be my Valentine now
as it is only one day in four years so
so years of tears will go this time if you will just be my…
Valentine
NB. A little explanatory note to say the hero of the hour was a young general of feminine power, recently out of training school, but well blooded in warfare. And the man upon the floor, a private soldier, not to be ignored and yet in days of not too long ago fraternising with officers was oh no, no, not allowed. Love however knows no bounds, you know. And that is why this poem thus did flow.
I do not know if the blitz was correct, or indeed the eclipse, perhaps in your marking you could advise me on that. Thank you.
Stanley
(The new mad author)
******Please delete from competition Valentine's Blitz-Poetry Contest Sponsored by Dave Will.
Categories:
litre, military, peace, romance, soldier,
Form:
Romanticism
Light the oven with a spark
Wearing paper gloves in the dark
Add water: a litre
From a distance of a metre
Add a rampant stinging nettle
Then its ready: a chocolate kettle
Categories:
litre, children,
Form:
Couplet
Here the clammy flesh
Of the hopeful worker
In a flicker found rest.
After a harsh crackle of muscle
On an acre of steel rails,
Here, he spent his thirst.
Never schooled worker,
Donkey pilgrim to a Mecca
Beast is despised.
At the kick of the factory clock
In cruel steel tents
In full blaze of the sun
You spilled sweat to the last litre,
Toiled, & tip toed
On Christmas in sunny shoes,
Starched ties & ashen shirts
Over a tattered tin of some stale brew,
One you took as a crew.
These hostels were built,
Says a school of thought,
To hat colonial guilt
Stuck in Buss System’s golden gut
Like iron filling clog a file till its teeth are sunken.
Old pastel flats, they plunk
Daily to frown at the pink sun
They do not shift till time’s finish.
Their sad-cherry has twisted auburn.
As lofty as they rise
They must sink into the soils
They so despise!
Categories:
litre, political
Form:
No milk for babies
I have lost track of who is fighting whom in the overlapping endless wars
in the middle- east, but that is beside the point today.
I was standing in supermarket`s till a woman in front of me had bought
a litre of milk and now she looking for loose change.
I was amazed she looked like human dairy; she could bottle her milk
in small flasks and sell it to health freaks.
In the vastness of her bag movements, it was her husband Carlos smelling
Like the inside of a purse
I always like to take him along when shopping and know where he is and,
He has got the car keys.
The Americans have been bombing again making sure there is no milk for babies
because they want to build that pipe gas line across Afghanistan and the Taliban
or is it the Pashtuns are saying no, from my home I see for me a giant in uniform
with a belt full of bombs bestriding the world.
Categories:
litre, absence, age, analogy, anniversary,
Form:
Sonnet
“Daddy, Daddy, Look the most only Beautiful Aqua Blue Rose
A half Litre of water from the Pond of Time, Your Past Revealed
But Nothing can replace the Time ; when Your Heart was A flamed
“ Daddy, Daddy, Look the most only Beautiful Aqua Blue Rose
I can only See, My LOVE ; My LIFE; My WIFE “ L E N O R E “
I have to catch My Breath; While Sorrow, teaches me of “Death”
In LOVING MEMORY of My LOVE : and LIFE : My WIFE
Lenore Ellen ( Adams ) Johnson
Categories:
litre, life, lost love, love,
Form:
Free verse
Wouldn't it be great to win a small prize,
So I can restock my stationery supplies.
I first write it down,then I type it up
I make lots of mistakes, then I rip it up.
Just when I think I've got it just right,
I knock over my coffee,
It's been one hell of a night.
At last it's all finished,
I've got a pile in the bin
If I don't win a prize,I will pack it all in.
I don't need a lot, just paper and ink,
Oh and a litre of correction fluid I think.
Now I'm going to the post,
I say this with a smirk,
If I can win a little prize
It's got to be easier than work.
If you think this is a begging letter,
Of that there is no doubt
If I could say I've won a prize,
I would have something to shout about!
Categories:
litre, fun, funny,
Form:
Rhyme
do you remember this place by the ocean?
these coastal mornings with their Arena air
the wind from the crab dock almost strong enough
to be swept away,
running from growling raccoons
randomly reading names on boats-
The way I remember The day you said the word traded,
how it changed us, to me,
you brought me here in your little red car
I knew it wasn’t romantic
Dave passed out in the back seat
You chugging back a litre of water
Like you had spent the night in the Saharan
Even the car smelled hungover
Over there by those big rocks where couples watch the sun rise
Just a few feet from where I am now
You calmly wrapped your arms around me
The way waves cradle the sand
Then said “it was no big deal,”
And my sun set, turning me dark
The way you rationally explained it was “part of the game”
told me you had done this before.
Stood on a late spring morning with your arms around a girl
and told her that you were going home for the summer
like you always do and regrettably wouldn’t return with the fall.
Then left maybe on a greyhound or maybe In your little red sunfire.
I think about that girl left back in one of those little Saskatchewan towns
and wonder if she’s writing you this morning too,
I know about her because you came to British Columbia on a trade
and now I wonder if there is letter on its way
from the town in Alberta that sent you to Saskatchewan.
It’s kind of comforting to know that I’m not alone
To imagine all the girls left in limbo
Writing letters curled up by fire places, from small town diners,
Empty arena seats, front porch swings and, beaches
I’m watching the boats now.
Ships come in and make the harbor beautiful for a moment
and then sail away.
The team still skates everyday at five
I picked Dave up from practice
We had a mountain burger
And a couple of black Russians
I should tell you it ended there
But we came down here
And skipped rocks into the ocean
Laughing about old times
When he was the third wheel
And when he took my hand
I let him; it felt right at the time
So I’m not alone, but lonely
Is there a girl in Ontario who has already fallen?
Categories:
litre, lost loveme, girl, me,
Form:
Free verse