Best Sopped Poems
Vicious storms rolled through... we got sopped
Played Mini-Golf dancing between the raindrops
A fun time for all
Swatting the wee ball
Came in last but still came out feeling on top
YOU AIN'T COUNTRY
If you've never...
Swept the front yard (No, not the porch but the yard),
Played under the porch (Yes, under)
Intentionally eaten dirt
(Not just any dirt, mind you, that good ole
red clay kind)
Gone barefoot outside...all day
And seen old car tires used as
Flower planters and yard decorations and swings...
You ain't country.
If you’ve never...
“Sopped” syrup or gravy with a biscuit
Shelled the peas for your supper or
Drank coffee from the saucer
You ain’t country
If you don't know what a truck patch is
Or about the grease can on top of the stove
Or that canning vegetables does NOT involve a can...
You ain't country.
If you've never used a mason jar as a drinking glass
Or to eat milk and bread from
Or to catch fireflies in..
Or to cut out homemade biscuits with
You ain't country.
And, if you're not shaking your head in agreement
And smiling a bit as you remember....
I know for sure
You ain't country
2012 Patricia Neely-Dorsey
#country #countrylife
Every day we woke up hungry.
We ate our little bowls of freedom
At the breakfast table.
Then Momma washed the breakfast dishes.
In the summer,
Momma grew maters and beets.
She stooped in earnest to keep us fed.
We sopped our shame with bread.
Yellow dishes lay in the sink.
We lived those years without thinking
About leaving the little white house.
The check came once a month.
We pinched our pennies carefully.
The house stood dressed in red shutters
On a street that no one cared about.
Time wore a yellow calm.
Momma’s dishes lay in the sink.
In the winter,
We huddled closer to the stove.
Steam grew on the windows,
Fried taters and a pot of beans.
Yellow dishes rattled in the sink.
On the back porch, thin cats waited
For a bite of something worth eating.
They cried at the screen door
While Momma washed the breakfast dishes.
At supper time,
We ate our plates of charity,
Fried bologna and government cheese
With a false sense of peace.
Every night we went to bed hungry.
Wolves are howling in the midnight mist,
like a scorned lover who had just been kissed.
Their howls are deep and profoundly heard,
dragging their prey that's just been lured.
Tearing through flesh with all of their might,
satisfying their hunger with one jagged bite.
The smell of death is lingering in the air closely by,
while vultures are soaring in the dark stromy sky.
Lightning is flashing in the clouds up high,
while thunder is booming as the wolves hungerly cry.
Rain cascades down at a hard fast pace,
while the wild of the forest crave just one more taste.
Winds are raging blowing hard and fast,
while the wolves carry away their remaining stash.
The sky grew clear the winds have stopped,
as the wolves prance on a ground that's just been sopped.
Falling asleep satisfied with their feast,
awaiting their hunger on the next big beast.
Rosebuds draft in scarlet, crimson, or maroon,
dreams to capture the viewer's point of view,
as its blossom's sheath their basis to its prune,
magnificent achievers rise in rows queue,
as the loss of age cast their field of thorn strewn,
shadows the facades to pipe a distinct tune,
shear away those sharp pokey points of danger,
and frail petals to amend its life-changer.
Amendments trail the housed maxed of tabletops,
of revived rosebuds claim a home as their own,
a treasured wealth trades with the town's floral shops,
then set at one's front wicket by an unknown,
or adorn tombstones as floral wreaths that props,
and crowned on a princess who sits on her throne,
a taxing burden to detain the death masque,
not tiny but thornless as Bonsai craft's task.
The Pyramid steps like the Baguio steppes,
where Filipinos view as their time-out spot,
the other is ancient for tourists who peps,
while an isle serves the rosebuds to sprout and squat,
nature confides stemmed thornless maroon by reps,
students check articles of the course they plot,
as a new breed of rosebuds shelved a terrace,
elegance embrace the solitaire heiress.
Loosely sketched parcels that the rosebud dwells in,
fresh sod fertile and well-sopped sealed neath the sun,
from its current strain, since its birth in Eden,
inspire blossoming with faint buzzes outdone,
coy rumors, green greener, red redder, seeds in,
East rises, and West sets, how the rosebud won,
Bonsai is an ancient craft not deemed as new,
man named rosebuds since their virgin birth, it grew.
Spring sprung sprouts as their healthy roots hug the ground,
a wealth of newborns reach for the warmth of skies,
its outstretched stem hardens merely being gowned,
a promised promenade paramount to rise,
by patrons, the sun, moon, and earth make their round,
a glowing shape as a rosebud is its prize,
the fields are graced with rosebuds color-filled rows,
as they grow in opened splendor till it snows.
Botanical Society best: Sowers.
ranked by their breeds and regions where they were raised,
down to idyllic truths, forthcoming growers,
who take pleasure in their leisure being phased,
where growth is best tended as their height lowers,
promised its dowery by virtuous praised,
reach prosperous glory in you or outpours,
rain or shine achievers within or outdoors.
TOOT SUITE
Alas, as hunters treed their prey
envisioning the feast
gravied meal at end of day
sopped up in breaded yeast.
An ill wind blew
and no one knew
from where it emanated
As sugar in the innards boils
and then - a little toot uncoils
With locked jaw frustration resembling pain,
with a mind bubbling over releasing so as not to go insane
I write....
From the corner of my mind that rocks back and forth
along side the pitiful person who knows not her worth
I write....
Sponged in sadness, sopped in madness
overly concerned with the worlds un gladness
I write....
Wonder why this, wonder why that,
needing to know all of the facts
I write....
Point of view here, point of view there
so long as the point is relatively fair
I write....
What a daughter am I?
To fall astray
What a wretch to leave the way
I’ve failed again
Fallen harder this time
On a step that never tripped me before
Am I growing weaker?
Or have I just sopped trying
No- I’m trying I know
It’s just different this time
I’m not getting back up
Least not yet-I’m thinking
I don’t understand why I can’t run
Others are running-
Others are smiling-
But every time I smile
Another enemy tends to attack
What wrong with me
Will I ever learn?
Or do we never learn
Is that it?
Do we just keep trying?
Because that’s ok just as long as that’s ok
Just as long as I’m not expected to soar
I don’t know
Guess I’ll get back up
I’ll start climbing again
Maybe that just it
It’s a long hard road
We are expected to climb
We will never reach the top
We will ever slip and fall
But how better can we show our love
That to simply
Climb on.
I'm lookin' for somethin'
To make me feel better.
I'm kinda sad, maybe blue,
And most of it's because of you!
Gonna shop til I drop
Courtesey of you.
Then head to the bar
And have me a few.
I might throw a pity party,
even dance on the bar.
You're not invited,
And I'm keepin' the car.
Gonna shop til I drop
Courtesey of you
Then head to the bar
and have me a few.
Bartender, can I call a cab?
Can I leave my car here?
I'm all partied out,
and had too many beers!
I'm standing at the door
143 Broken Road on the outskirts of town.
My family home where my mom lives now.
I knock and knock some more.
I hear the door open,
And I fall to the floor!
She laughs as she pulls me in.
It's nice to be on this couch again.
In no time at all
The sun will beat down.
Last night I had a ball,
Now Im wearin' a frown
Sopped til I dropped
Courtesey of you.
Then I went to the bar
and had me a bunch!
Your visa's maxed out
And your car's at the bar.
There's the phone.
Is it you or did I give that bartender my number
Cast me to the seas that have shaken my soul
Throw me down for ignorance revealed as age old
Roll me asunder to the place my knees give way
Scourge my eyes for the things that went unseen in that day
How could I take comfort in a tale so untrue
I was not solid but exposed as milk laid and sopped
No glory is before them that gather at the base and await
Those who have fallen by the hands of that quake not by fate
I chose my own destiny
No matter how my story seems
I make my own path
No matter what you say
My spirtit is free
I am not able to be held back
My spirit is as wild as my horses
We ride into the wind together
As wild as a forset fire
No one can calm or lessen it
When I ride I am free
From the pressure of life
An escape to the everyday
No you will not hold me back
I will not be sopped
I will become bulletproof
Becoming a part of my own history
No you do not write my story
I do
Its wild and free
Not held down by chains
Not held back by reighns
So I create my own
Fairytale
dimwit damping desires
punctured passion pulsing
puking, sopped plenary
impregnated zeal gnashing
odd offshoot scolding
cremated cusses cobbling
hewn nosy tracery
strapped self scrunching
jumpy jazz jolting
mystic mist moaning
lusty limbs lurching
felon feigning ally;
perforated pulpy pedigree.
19:11:30:5:00
Note: To all corrupt Police Officers!
Constant thunder, but no blubbering - the clouds are dry,
dark, sultry; and the soil is crying out for alcohol -
A little drink of pink champagne or whisky sour cocktail.
No umbrella!
Squeeze out the plenipotentiary sopped-up water
and let the thunderclouds rip, and roar with delightful glee.
Birds and insects, in hideaway, humming softly, resting.
Agent Patrick Chaves
in the beginning of this month, I was contacted by
family relation telling me of a quick way to make
some extra money by investing in gift cards and he
connected me to agent Patrick Chaves
I sent the cards, but when the promised payout didn't
happen there was demand for more card before
they could send me the profit; this happened several
times until I sopped sending more cards and accepted
my loss of over 4000euro
It didn't end there, the agent Patrick Chaves persistent
asked for more gift cards which I refused to pay
He sent me his ID card issued in California showing
a photo of an white bearded, elderly man born in 1949
I have tried to sent his photo to X but not sure how to
do this.
When I told the agent Patrick Chaves I would sent
the article to X he threatened to sue me, which made
me more suspicious as this what happened to me was
elaborate that has happened to many
In the world of the Internet everything is based on lies
When i trough third party contacted my relative
he knew nothing about the case, someone had taken
his name pretending he was the relative
As for agent Patrick Chaves, the one, I have been dealing
with is is a fake to His English is not up to standard
nor is mine, but detected a foreign voice that is possible
Romanian which refuses tells me he lives in Portugal
The only Portuguese with that name is retired footballer
who is also a businessman, I will not suggest he has
anything to do with this scam; having accepted my lose
I will continue to find who is behind the fraud
a view before the glass plane
the sun bears her love upon your face
your tears are necessary for me to swallow
as one day, my name will bear not love,
but grief, and, i fear. . .
that will starve you of life – by sorrow.
my journey nears an end beyond belief
and i cannot venture any more with you
our hands will no longer intertwine
life shatters – as fragile as glass
by the reaper’s gentle breathe
your grief flows–
rapid, destructive, serene, idyllic
leaving you wake in such pain. . .
everything we have built
over such a short span of time
can be built again.
i cannot stop you from caring, even if i tried
like a stormed statue, still and sopped
the drops fueled by mine end,
there is only one thing i can possibly ask
easy and simple, if you can bear
think of me once in a while, my love, take care