Best Soap Poems
It’s almost time and I must run
to watch/read Poetry Soap for fun.
It comes on every day at this time
and I don’t want to miss a single rhyme.
Some are about a long-lost lover
written by a secret poet undercover.
Some are about jealousy and some about trust
with rhyming lines filled with lust.
Competition is part of their game
with bards and musicians hiding their name.
They covet a prize and praise galore
laid at their feet and virtual door.
But when Poet A falls in love with Poet B
you can bet there’ll be flaming words from Poet C.
Or when Poet D gets Poem of the Day
Poet E will have something to say.
Sometimes it’s fun to read the rhymes of hate
whenever I can’t sleep and stay up late.
Battles of wits,
Poets who have fits,
Some who sing,
Some who sting.
Magical flights to lands of old
written with passion and pens of gold.
But it’s the humble ones I adore
whose words are pure, their egos left at the door.
Each episode an unending story
with poets and their pets seeking glory.
It’s addicting like dope.
I don’t want to miss today’s episode of Poetry Soap.
By: Carole O’Terry Duet
Copyright: 9/26/2017
“All Rights Reserved”
Mother would tuck into each dresser drawer,
a bar of soap, to scent the clothes..
The familiar fragrance of English Lavender would fill the air
The small bedroom, a bit cramped..a bit shabby, but comfortably familiar.
The faded chintz curtains and the cover on the four poster, was a primrose yellow...
and the wallpaper striped in blue and white.
There would be marguerite daisies in a jug on the dressing table..
Next to a framed photo of five, smiling young cousins..
all scrubbed, with shining faces, dressed for church, one Easter morning.
Over on the north wall hung a painting of Willowby Pond...
so pleasant to look at, just before falling to sleep.
Here I stand once again, having things so familiar, so much the same
I take a deep breath, recalling the sense of home, the fragrance of lavender
Like slipping into an old pair of slippers,
after spending the day wearing high heeled shoes
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
If shampoo and soap
could wash away
the sins I may commit today
I’d stand for hours
beneath a shower
Anything so as not to pray
Pat lived in externality
Thanks to frugality
his life insurance ... cheap soap
blissful moment of life's hopes
2 bucks saved his mortality
* Stay healthy ... wash your hands often *
23.03.2020
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
I bet you're out of hope.
Dude, don't drop the soap.
I bet you find it hard to cope.
Dude, you're crude and rude,
And full of dirt and oil.
Wash yourself clean,
Because you are mean,
I don't wanna be on your team.
You hung yourself from a short rope.
When you shower,
Dude, don't drop the soap.
Next time you'll treat someone right.
Next time you'll wanna do it too.
Next time maybe you'll wanna live the life that's true.
Maybe you'll stop being so cut throat,
But in the meantime,
Dude, don't drop the soap.
8-15-11
As tiny globes they float,
Wearing a rainbow coat,
Filled with young breath they glow,
The soap bubble dreams we blow.
Pop! They burst with stranger’s touch,
In the windless sky, away from our clutch.
...Life is rife with lies we tweak,
A hideout from our miseries!
Flightless wings and wailing dreams,
Are a kick back to reality!
You called her unmarriable because she fought for her rights
You wanted her to stay home
And cook, clean, wash, iron and bear you children
It was okay with her, you both agreed on five of them
And she loved to cook, wash, clean, iron and even wake up early to make you breakfast
But she also loved to continue her education, get her degree and teach further as high as her dreams could go
You labelled her a man
Even when she was the most elegant of all
She loved make-up, girl's nights out, to be pampered and admirred
But you couldn't see beyond her political ambitions
She had won many seats and gone up the ladder
And now she wanted to be president
"No way" you thought "not in my lifetime!" you continued on your thoughts...
You profiled her as round, curvy, juicy, yummy thing
A toy for you to play around with
An object to feed your appetite
And the things that went through your mind as she sat across from you on those morning meetings
She was the least paid employee in that male dominated company
You knew that very well
But one thing you did not know was that she was a fighter
She was not going to give up
She had the brains and she stood strong
Paving way for many more
You even called her a soap opera
Did you ever think to look at yourself on the mirror?
the
soap beetle bug
caught
in
a soap bubble
why
drain bathtub
oh
world...oh world
This morning I listened
To the simpleton and the sapient man preach
Yet as they orated to
All we who came to listen and imbibe
I was lost
There was no distinguishing
One voice from the other.
Later as I pondered
All that which was spoken
Spewed aimlessly upon us
I knew that I could not agree
With that which was said
By the simpleton.
Drama
queens star each day-
in a mirror displayed
reflections feed on ambitions
ego.
Don’t go near the smoke house,
For Soap Sally lives in there,
She will sneak up from behind you,
And grab you without a care.
Then tie you up,
String you from the rafters,
Then slowly stir her lye,
Waiting for just the right time,
She loves to hear you cry.
Hotter and hotter her soap does get,
Boiling to just the right point,
To make the best soap yet,
Head first she will anoint.
Then stir you up and boil your innards,
Don’t think this is a joke,
Search around to find your gizzards,
Your spirit she wants to evoke.
Bring back your spirit,
Cause now you are gone,
She just, will not quit,
Your life has been foregone.
So when you are walking near the smoke house,
Be leery of what goes on,
Tip toe around,
Be quiet as a mouse,
Maybe, you’ll make it back home.
I used to wonder why you almost seemed perfect
But I've gained some insight to put it all in perspective
I was simply auditioning for a role in your show
The one you've rehearsed so many times before
Trying out girls to see if they fit the lead part
In the bad daytime soap opera of your little heart
But I have something to tell you, I've read the reviews
The critics agree, your script is old news
Utopia and fairyland bliss,
my soap bubble has blown a kiss-
Shangri-La and earthly heaven,
blowing soap bubbles since I was seven.
Freedom and a reawakening of life in the
greatest degree has given me clarity with
less responsibility.
I’ve been to Mt. Zion a time or two
and had trust of dreams coming true.
I believe in utopia-
a place where no pain can be found.
I trust in the way the earth rotates
as the axis spins around.
In the final moment of my life will be a
bubble made of soap,
messy and slimy giving me nothing but hope.
A kingdom of wonder
without rain or roaring thunder-
a land of milk and honey without
the worry of wealth or money.
A safe haven for all to live,
with everyone willing to give-
a home with plenty of health
and more for you and less
need for yourself.
As a child, I had a dream, reality so it seemed-
I laid on the grass and rubble, blowing big and
round soap bubbles.
In my dream, I danced and pranced-
I played and stayed in the garden of Eden,
I made sand castles and my soul’s desires
did deepen.
I needed not material things-
diamonds or fancy rings,
but embraced the childlike feeling and held
onto the intense healing.
Freedom comes from the beauty within,
desire comes from your sweet soul-
Utopia… a magical place without sin,
blowing soap bubbles...
in a paradise to behold.
March 22, 2017
Soap bubble dreams are drifting so close.
Soap bubble dreams;
What do I have to lose?
Soap bubble dreams;
I can feel the weighty, delicate film on my finger tips.
Soap bubble dreams;
I can taste their reality on my lips.
Soap bubble dreams;
I can hold them but a minute, an hour, or maybe a day?
Soap bubble dreams are slowly drifting away.
Soap bubble dreams of what I thought I wanted.
Soap bubble dreams; now I feel haunted.
My choices rest on soap bubble dreams.
Soap bubble dreams, nothing is as it seems.
Soap bubble dreams; I can hold them or blow them astray.
Soap bubble dreams are slowly drifting away.
My daughter, let’s wash hands
she squeals
I tell her that in grandma’s bathroom
magic soap exists that makes hands invisible
she laughs
together we wash the dirt from hands
and giggle as we hide them in our sleeves
My daughter, let’s go have dinner now
she squeals