Best Sopping Poems
The dank petrichor of grainy night,
meters stand like gravestones,
the obsidian avenue slick as a sapphire,
windowed granite rising in sharp cut shadows,
wind gusting, tumbleweed clouds somersaulting
in a moonless ghost town.
I jingle keys with atonal sky
and listen to my footsteps on concrete
ticking like a clock.
There are places to be.
I hasten my step as rain drops resume,
one by one mounting into a riotous crowd.
Umbrella-less, I am soon sopping,
hair a wet carpet, suit a gray saturated tarp,
the briefcase and tote onyx boulders.
My car is still a block away,
but eventually I reach it
like a leaf washing down stream.
The tote slips off my shoulder
as I stoop to retrieve fallen keys
lying in a shallow puddle like a shattered talisman.
Suddenly I begin laughing,
dropping everything in the street,
my face skyward, arms splayed like a crucifix.
Now there is no tomorrow,
only the farce of my predicament,
standing like a drowned coyote howling
at the moon as though it would be there forever.
Kittens In The Barn
He stops and removes his boots before opening the door. He enters the kitchen and smells the familiar aroma of morning coffee.
"Breakfast's ready, have a seat. How're the kittens" his wife asks.
"Damn cat" he says. "Should have run her off when she showed up last year". "Don't know why she stays where she ain't wanted". "Nothing but a nuisance is all she is". "Now got all those little ones running around". "I hate cats".
She gives him his plate and pours him a cup of coffee. He hungrily digs in, sopping up
his eggs with a warm biscuit. He tips his cup and pours some coffee in his saucer,
blowing on it to cool it off. "Damn cat" he mumbles.
When finished, he carries his dishes to the sink, rinsing them and setting them aside.
When her back is turned he quickly grabs the saucer and stuffs it in the pocket of his
bibs. "I'm going to milk the cows he says". "Take care" she calls, pretending not to
notice. In another moment he is gone.
He grabs his stool and bucket and sets to milking, the warm liquid quickly consuming the
container. He rises and walks into a distant stall. Bending down, he pulls out the
purloined saucer and fills it from the bucket in his hand. He places it beside the
squirming litter and watches as they stagger to its brim.
"Damn cat" he mutters. "Don't know why she stays where she ain't wanted".
Flight of stillness;
idle,
ditch-wise.
Ladders point up
but they say the ground is greater;
sunlight knitting to their brown feet green socks.
They crestfall and
buckle at the knee.
Hear guts clap thunder off somewhere else
but no storm in sight to maitre d' this mesa;
got to rot the mud lest
an urge to ripen ripens.
But hear now
the locusts flood this rut,
hunt for want,
impelled to eat each lunch of your decay.
Earth uncorks her pores.
you drift upon the grass, lift the damp from the sod
like a pillow of cloud sopping Earth's steam-
to be made the steward of this land;
lightning
flash! ladders
shatter!
Pay in full the cost of water,
less labors not yet lost.
Ghost Buster’s Eve
‘Tis the time
to shoot slime.
Adults Only Costume Party
Sex kittens prance.
Sultry nurses dance.
Party Food
Served eyeball soup
and goopity goop
A Bobbing Good Time?
Apple I get;
face sopping wet!
House of Creeps
The chainsaw guy
made me cry
A-Maze-ing Fright
Lost girl walks
where corn stalks
Jack O’Lantern Greeters
Bright as torches,
pumpkins on porches.
Night of Royals
Small and fair,
princesses are everywhere.
Trick or TWEET
One poor nerd
plays Big Bird.
Halloweenie
Wearing dumb costume -
a dashound’s doom
The ‘Trick’ to Trick or Treating
Door to door,
speediest kids score.
Vampire Candy
Dracula’s favorite treat
is bloody sweet.
Raiding the Kids’ Trick or Treat Bag
Of chocolate stuff,
can’t get enough
Over and Out
Big Harvest Moon.
Thanksgiving comes soon.
Nov. 3, 2018 for Mark Toney's Six-Word Couplet Series Encore Poetry Contest
A saving grace from
The stormiest weather
A sun to shine down upon
Drying up my sopping tears
To place them in a basin of
Your love
This oak tree and me, we’re made of the same stuff.. Carl Sagan
why lean on my
unmoving breast?
breathe my rest...
climb my milieu...
hull me out
an adventure.
soar amidst
the forest of my branches.
i’ve squirmed as you shimmy up
and scream to be rescued.
i’ve dreaded the hearted-blade
score and singe in my bark.
you’ve left your bloody initials,
therefore, you’ve enslaved
yourSELF TO ME
in thorns and lichens.
i wonder when you kiss
off this puppy love
will you restore my health
or leave the scars of the past?
i wait eternally for your return
with roots sopping tears of regret.
perhaps your progeny approaches -
the wind whispers such vespers to me.
i ache ancient rings of arthritis...
crows nibble nebulously i fear...
in the end’s gratitude for sultry sun
and merciful cups of rain.
goodbye my dear. . .
the lightning strikes
12/28/2019
I am a tree poetry contest
Sponsor:
Delilah Ventura
Grab a wooden spoon, and choose a mixing bowl
A breakfast that is piping hot is worth its weight in gold!
You can make them by the dozens, or one or two will do
Make them for your next of kin, or neighbors you have got
Even for those teenage boys, ...(the ones who eat a lot!)
Let's see you fry a stack of cakes that tower on the plate
The stack is high,...but folks will sigh with happiness inside
So get the griddle piping hot, and warm syrup too
And don't forget a pot of jam and marmalade is good!
Applesauce, gets an A+ ,.......and often gets applause!
Yes you can! Whip some up.....it's as easy fix to do
No need to go to I-Hop. Just make them on the spot
Wake them up to something yummy
Fill a tummy, make 'em happy, maple syrup needs some sopping
Buckwheat makes the grumpy jolly, just stir the lumps out 'til there's none
And someone's sour mood is gone, when sourdough is stacked at dawn
Flapjacks wake the sleepyheads, before they run straight out the door
They'll turn right back to have some more .....three or four, or five or six
Butter oozing down the sides, sticky syrup glazing eyes.....mouths will water
hear the laughter.....add some nuts, or raisin eyes, make a face a big surprise
Yum! Yum! Yum! M & M's add some fun, and add a chocolate prize!
And if you dare, to be so bold
Flip your flapjack, pan-fried gold.....Just grab and hold your frying pan
It 's in the grip, ......then flip ! You can !!! And if you're lucky it will land
upon the plate........not on the floor, across the room,......
but one mistake......, just mop it up, and try it all again!
Practice tennis while you're at it,...Ping pong too...., and batter-up.....
Up it goes........and down it comes........Something yummy for your tummy
Pancake's, flapjacks .......hotcakes, hoecakes..
Pick your favorite, flip them high........ make them small or any size
Make a ton........!!! It's worth a try !
__________________________________________________
For Didactic Food Contest: sponsored by Tammy Reams
10/5/15
Black snow on pavement
Dog paws sopping and muddy
The first signs of spring
His back meets the cold, wet grass under him,
his eyes meet the blue endless sky hovering over him.
The cigarette from his hand dies out as it meets the sopping grass below
He feels the blood escape his body that now is no longer whole.
As he stares up into the sky,
he thinks of the girl he hated to leave behind.
He thinks of his mother, her tears streaming down,
his father’s proud hand, as it strongly grazed his crown.
He thinks of the men fighting for their life,
He thinks of his enemy, ducking for his life.
He thinks of the reasons war even exists,
Maybe this isn’t the way one should even live.
The sounds of his men approaching feels distant in his ear,
the struggle to save a life is unyielding,
when the bullet cuts through the heart,
there is no weaker feeling.
Slowly the sounds of planes hushes down,
The sounds of gunfire are stifled,
The missiles whistling in the background stop
and all of nature’s sounds just suppress, as they come to a halt.
The men become blurry as his eyes start to freeze,
The body that once fought, now turned to solid ice.
For the last time in his life,
he thinks of the girl he wishes he never left behind.
He thinks of his mother, whose tears will continue to run,
the father’s proud hand, that wont ever touch his son.
In these last few seconds, he does not feel scared,
as he spent this life fighting strongly for his homeland.
High…way up high in the aqua blue sky,
I see a black and white checkered kite…
floating higher and higher than I, myself…
But, I was shoved
Into another shelf…
High…way up high in the aqua blue sky,
2 birds were flying together in harmony… it made me smile
If only…I could fly another mile…
If only…I could higher my smile…
If only…I could fly higher
If only…I could taste ecstasy…
people would accuse me as a liar
If I experienced the best day of my life…
But, I don’t wanna live with undying strife…
I want peace…
Hand it over, please…
Hand me the keys
So I could experience perpetual peace
I took flight like those bird couples…
But, I was on an airplane…
High…way up high in the aqua blue sky,
I wouldn’t be greedy for gain…
I’m trying to act sane…
But, I’m actually insane
In many ways…I love my uniqueness…
And my stubbornness… and my gladness…
And my madness… my imagination goes wild
But, I need to put it on a leash…so I could remain mild
High…way up high in the aqua blue sky,
I’d feel the rain
Trickle down my hands…my wet, wrinkly hands
High…way up high in the aqua blue sky,
No one would understand
How awesome and wonderful I’ve felt that day…
Up there…
up there…I felt like a king…
But, now I lost that memory…I lost my ring
To success…but I’m willing to pick up my progress…
My pace…is slow like a snail’s pace
Do you see me crying? Just look at my face…
High…way up high in the aqua blue sky,
I’m the clouds absorbing tears
High…way up high in the aqua blue sky,
I’d be willing to release them…
but they’ve been stored up forever it seems
And…hell – I have been
Shaking with fear…
Breaking by the seams
High…way up high in the aqua blue sky,
I was……..
Daydreaming again…
My mind was stuck on cloud 7…
Thank heavens
That I’m still alive – staring into space
Just look at my sopping face…
I see no grace…I see only a pathetic face
In the mirror…….
This little dream of mine
Was rather sublime
I was a sweet boy,
but now I’m sour like lime
If I were a bird,
I'd fly away from my problems...
I'll flutter away
Without a care in the world...
I want to be happy-go-lucky...
But, I'm bound to submit to my
Misery.............................
Medusa’d
dishevelled,
and snake oiled gleaming
That day of grey Tuesday was remediously teeming
Simply chilli,
chopped onion,
or tragedy-eyed streaming
Girls Gone Wilderness,
cling-filminess;
two sopping wet cupfuls
I opened, then poured some number of n-tuples
We were one o’ those
fight nail,
tooth pick olive,
and lemon twisted couples
RAIN AT LAST
Days of sweat and heat
No breath of breeze
No cloud signal of relief
The flowers wilting
Birds untwittering.
And the donkey, statue,
Standing in the pitiful pool
Of shade cast by
The shriveled apple trees
Onto the brown grass.
Fanning ourselves with papers
Until we could take no more.
The sky darkens
And wind picks up.
One droplet marks the end
Of the beginning
Then two, twenty, a thousand.
Turn our faces to heaven.
Soaked hair and filled eyebrows,
Sopping shirts clinging to skin,
We stand in the downpour.
As black clouds unload
Their precious cargo,
Leaves are baptized afresh
And earth comes back to green life
His net was dry and become brittle
Anyone could see it hadn’t been cast
In many months
The foaming sea roiled on the breaking waves
Outside his hut, the baking sun burned the pebbles on the beach
The old man lay in his bed covered in sweat
A memory stash of years had passed
Since he felt well enough to cast a net
But a man must eat
He had made one last effort to get up
To go outside, pickup the net, put it on the boat
And cast off
His heart was willing,
But his body weakened with exhaustion
Deterred him from even trying
He fell back in bed
Such was the end of an old man
Who fished to put food on the table,
But now in his time of need
His government turned its back on him
Where was his social security
His pension, his medical aid?
He lay awake in pain
Sobbing
Some would say he hadn’t worked long enough
To earn help from the government,
But he had worked all his life
Doesn’t that count for something?
Others would say he hadn’t done anything for his fellowman,
But did they not remember that one winter, when he had fed the whole village
Singlehandedly, had they forgotten that?
Or the time he took severely ill children across the bay to see the doctor
And the children survived,
But this time, no help came to the old man on this sweltering hot day,
He lay in his bed of snarled sheets sopping with sweat
This is how my life ends, he sobbed,
Nobody to care if I die or help from nobody
What’s a life for, if not to help care for his fellowman
Simply a little sympathy, compassion, or love
Is that too much to ask?
I am a man! Am I a human being?
Don’t I deserve some concern?
Lord, don’t desert me now!
I stand alone as the day I was born sans mother
But then, maybe that’s why people need each other
Alone, no person stands
everyone needs some one there at the inevitable end
to feel their hand and sense the final warmth
to say the last goodbye as your soul departs.
Grass sopping wet
Roads covered in rain
Asphalt slippery
Yet again
Dismally upsetting
All Earth looks wrong
Yielding to what nature wants
She sings this dreary song
"You're not allowed to play in the canal"
words echoed through my head
as I sat in the middle if it,
cooling my all in the churning water.
Happy faces surrounded me
on this way out hot day.
Rules went by the board
in this street canal, open to nature.
Adults stood milling around envious of our audacity.
splashing them in play.
They, pretending to be annoyed
yet enjoying the coolness.
All went well til the daylight dimmed,
time to stand up and be counted,
clothes were sopping wet, but the
smile on our faces say, it was worth it.
Temporarily ignoring the fact rodents and others
called the canal home, ,
Hopefully, not many of the children
will end up with a rash or worse.
Was a hot summers day
When children came to play..........
Penned 27 August 2017