Best Sappy Poems


Premium Member Sappy Birthday 69

I remember, do you,
age appropriate for two
grandparents like you,
when sixty-nine
was a thing that you do
when you're hot twenty-and-a-few
too many.

I remember, do you,
grandmother's party at the zoo,
Happy SixtyNine on her cake
smelled and spelled like "Mistake",
Happy BodyDay to you two,
each doing who,
sweet memories
too.

Premium Member On the Brink of Sappy

Do you guys detect a pattern emerging
About to O.D... on the precipice I'm verging
Too much damn happy
On the brink of sappy
Must reverse this trend, with danger I'm flirting

In Vice of Time

Like a sappy fruit
in vice of time,
a slobber root -
a top cut by a knife.

Thick drops in a pot
down slowly trickle,                                                         
hold firmly a cup,
set off a ripple.
 
Must hoe one's row,   
time, here, I see,
for muck and your
fruits marc will be.


Premium Member On the Verge of Sappy

Do you guys detect a pattern emerging
About to O.D... on the precipice I'm verging
Too much damn happy
On the brink of sappy
Must reverse this trend, with danger I'm flirting

Sappy Saga

I am a story teller
Sentiment of the historic crater
Core of cruel massacre
1906 was a year of killer

Women and children died
Defending their nation’s pride
To the last drop of their blood till dried 
To heaven the incident was their guide

It was at the dawn of March 6
The slain bodies were buried
Some of them decapitated
Remain nothing but baby still sucking cried

The episode was known battle of the clouds
The epitome where martyrs behold
The true tale yet already old 
Bud Dahu story still severely untold

Justice and freedom were the cause
Until today this still the need most
Why can’t to them to grant this out 
If the world want the seed of peace sprout!


Dedicated to the slain during the 
Bud Dahu Massacre of 1906 
in Sulu Archipelago
© Neldy Jolo  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Looking Sappy

In the dictionary beside the word “happy”
Is a picture of this old happy pappy
Trust me there's a shot
I do kid you not
Of this handsome old devil grinning looking sappy


Premium Member The Sappy Soupy Tale of a Poetaster

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.

Premium Member Looking Sappy

In the dictionary beside the word “happy”
Is a picture of this old happy pappy
Trust me there's a shot
I do kid you not
Of this handsome old devil grinning looking sappy

Sappy But True

Knowing in that moment,
That it was meant to be.
It opened up my eyes,
And changed my life for me.

All I knew was sorrow,
Pain and infidelity.
Then I found happiness,
In the oddest place to me.

There was real true love,
I knew this to be true.
And who is this love, you ask?
Why, of course, it's you!
© Chris Ash  Create an image from this poem.

Sappy Poem 7

The rain clashes against the ground in a daze.
She has this tired look in her eyes.
She’s troubled, terrified for what happens next.
You tell her to trust you,
but she can’t.
You know she can’t.

She’s confused, lost in her thoughts
dreaming about the day she’ll be found.
Look past the smile, and into her eyes.
Can you see it?
Is it there?
There’s all of her despair.

There’s an actress inside every girl,
look a little closer, you’ll see her there.
She smiles, but it’s fake.
Can you tell that it’s fake?
She wants you to notice,
she wants you to care.

Thunder crashes violently in the sky,
she gives you one last look with a tear in her eye.
Now do you see it?
Now is it there?
She walks away,
but you’ll never care.

She’s screaming,
but you’ll never notice.
© Kayli Ann  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Semi-Sappy Song

sweet stain of her
against the soul
a sky strong pollen... 
the purest gold-

a caress of satin,
tasting sugar seeds
for one flaming moment
we often bleed-

whorled moonlight
mangled sheets
(Hills of hell
valleys of ecstasy)

will 
hearts soar with the sun
or drift away...
will they dance together
or simple walk...walk away

Premium Member Sappy Tails Story Poem

Betsy, the sweet girl, was such a beauty
Never slack on milk, she did her duty
Pouring out her supply, like a fountain
Feeding on the rye across the mountain

She raised sweet, soft eyes to prove her gentle
Always so much love wasn’t accidental
With a soul, good and warm, she’s so friendly
Yet, her master told her she’s too spindly

Despite her hunger, she just wouldn’t gain weight
She worried about things like a soul mate
Her thoughts took her to the fall, and the hay
When the Blue Ridge Mountains switch to deep gray

Thoughts of gold bales left her stomach starving
Though that hay could’ve made a wood carving
So dry and stale, it couldn’t have been tasty
Still, she sprinted to the stall, quite hasty

After eating her fair share, farmer said
“look at Betsy, she’s fat as that pig, Ned”
At last the cow and the pig were happy
Even though their tale is slightly sappy!

Sappy Poem 15: From August To December

Together we would laugh,
we would cry until we couldn’t.
We’d talk until the sun came up,
until we saw that single ray. 

We’d splash around inside the lake,
tanning ’til the sky turned grey.
Who knew that it would end this way?
We surely did’t. 

The days got bitter, 
the leaves dried up.
I’d hold my hands inside my sweater,
you’d simply fade away. 

Sometimes you’d come back to me.
“I missed you,” you’d say.
But did you really feel this way?
I don’t think you did. 

Snow began to swirl around,
just as you’d come back.
“I haven’t seen you in awhile.”
That is when I’d wear a smile.

You didn’t know it wasn’t real,
you weren’t aware I was already broken.
Did you know that I detected
the lie behind your words?

The best part is that you never knew,
I sensed it from the start.
I couldn’t hold you back much longer,
you had to be let go.

I thought that we’d be friends forever,
but there’s no such thing.
© Kayli Ann  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Sweet and Sappy

Sweet and sappy, as strawberries,
yet the green leaf’s pulled
from the tongue, and
teaches one a smile set
in the bulk and brazen
of the hefty sour’n sweet
fruitiness obtained from the C
of the blazing sun’s goodness.

Plentiful teeny-tiny seeds
present in the plush red-ripe chill
to the gums, and
pearly-wide teeth
that plunge, as if into the neck
of Dracula’s victim.

Juice sucked off fingers.
The index circles the lips
to enhance the stickiness
and satisfaction
of the plucky fragaria,
full-sized, squeezing
the frame. Dimensions 

hypnotize the dreamer 
destined for the horizon.
Scented lip gloss,
a lasso for a boyfriend.
The milkshake mesmerizes
the swirly straw in the parlor.

Memories made shepherding
the wild strawberry fields -
hair, cheeks, lips, polish.

Sappy Poem 17

The part that really hurt the most
is the fact that you blame me.
I didn’t even do a thing,
but you claim that I did.

“I thought you were my best friend”
I am, I was, I thought I’d always be.
“You really hurt me”
how can I hurt you, when I didn’t do a thing?

You’re the one who hurt me most.
You’re the one who used me. 
You blamed me, you framed me,
I never did a thing.

You twist my words,
you made my cry,
you say that I’m a fake friend.
when I ask you what I did,
you refuse to look me in the eye.

You lie to me,
don’t give a direct answer.
Make stuff up,
ruin everything.

If that’s the way it has to be,
so be it.
I’ll be here if you need me.
© Kayli Ann  Create an image from this poem.

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