Best Squish Poems
Beneath a lovers’ moon, Summer breezes in.
In still-cool primrose evenings lingering from spring,
she whispers in my ear.
I hear. . .
honey bees near lilacs, whippoorwills in leafy trees,
and somewhere. . .
A hoot owl in the night.
Beneath a beaming sun, Summer carries on
inhaling and exhaling sultry days.
On languid afternoons beyond a yellow flowered meadow,
she finds me as I wade into a stream.
Warmly, she breathes upon my cheek.
I feel. . .
the squish of mud beneath my toes,
cool water all around me,
and tiny tadpoles flitting round my knees.
Beneath an autumn moon, Summer slips away
sigh. . .ing into
still-hot waning days.
I smell her fragrance in the blooms of asters that I pluck;
I see her in a golden-glitter dusk and
I hear her in the cries
of wild geese across the sky
calling out to me her last goodbye.
You can see him now, dirty as a horse
that slipped in the mud, planting petunias
with that infamous shamrock thumb
(Irish from his Pop Appendage from his Mum)
stopping every now - and again -
to breathe deep that fragrance
rich with pheromone nostalgia
just like Grammy Georgina used too do
the apple doesn't fall far from the tree
I can still see her now, in her glory days,
with lovely lemon locks soaking up the summer sun,
rooted in that old-fashioned train of mind:
You don't stop your work until it's done!
(but a walking contradiction, just like her grandson,
... rose to her nose like ruby rebellion)
the tree doesn't grow solely from the ground
Water's an important player too,
especially from grandma's showering can
(laughing tears the shade of crystalline blue)
Course you can't forget those lifetime lessons either,
from dear ole Georgie, speaking with a sunny kind of seriousness,
about the importance of patience,
the fruitfulness of labor,
plucking up the surviving winters' courageous cucumbers,
blushing beets
the ground isn't just a place for our feet
Cause with her and I, we incinerate the stereotype:
young blood reflecting on infinity,
old knees dancing like she's got chipper chipmunks
for toes giggles in the background like a photobomb
to the expected chapel silence
(it's not all peaches and cream though,
sometimes we get violent)
Orange slush, flying miles behind us,
at times getting grazed in the face
by nature's food fight
our feet between the squish squish of the crab apple
We were two peas, if you please, in a curious pod,
like a whimsical joke from a laughing God:
Me, the champion of her scallions,
the guardian of her garden,
leaving all sensibility befuddled
with an, "I beg your pardon?"
I wonder if she knew then the gravity of the situation,
watching mama scream bloody murder,
as I came into this world ...
... was she scratching her head, lips curled, in questioning amazement,
just like Newton must have been, when developing his theory?
What d'you suppose they both were thinking?
The apple doesn't fall far from the tree ...
Written March 27, 2016
For the Cliche Contest Hosted by Silent One
That mammogram! That mammogram!
I do not like that mammogram!
Would you like it on a couch?
I think that I would still say ouch!
Would you like it with champagne?
I think that I would still complain.
I do not like that mammogram.
I’d rather eat green eggs and ham.
Would you like it with no squeeze?
I think I’d still be ill at ease.
Would you like it fully dressed?
That I think would be the best.
That mammogram! That mammogram!
I do not like that mammogram!
What, then, would you most prefer?
Maybe others would concur.
If I could have a cute masseuse
Who sounded just like Dr. Seuss,
Perhaps that yearly mammogram
Would not be such a cruel exam.
Then I would like it on a couch
And wouldn’t act like such a grouch;
And I would like it with champagne,
Ignoring that annoying pain.
I would enjoy my mammogram.
I’d be as happy as a clam;
But ‘til that time, I will protest
Each time that tech does squish my breast!
Last night I dreamed I was weeding my vegetable garden in the Drive-in theater, while people wandered back and forth from snack bar to their cars.
While pulling weeds, I saw a banana slug and was about to squish it when I realized it had legs. It was an eight foot monitor lizard! I chased it around the grounds and finally caught it and put it in the car. Then I went back to my garden to see if that huge tiger salamander was still there. It was!
I decided to go home with the monitor and the salamander when I realized, oh no, my little dog Daigoro was in the car! I got all frightened the monitor ate him, but he was perfectly all right. The rest of the dream was trying to drive home with Daigoro under one arm so the monitor wouldn't get him.
I remember the very first day
I saw that teeny-tiny bare foot
When the nurses took her away
And pressed it with ink on the birth certificate
And I watched those tiny bare feet
Take their first steps on the carpeted floor
And the way she would squish her toes in the sand
Is a memory I just adore
Her shoes would never stay on long
And the socks would come off too
As she ran through fields of grass
And the years passed on through
She would splash in rain puddles
Walk through mud up to her calves
Being barefoot she was happiest
Muddy footprints would make her laugh
Now I walk with her in a white flowing gown
Her groom waiting in his tux so neat
The wedding dress covers them up
But I wouldn’t be surprised if she wore bare feet
And I watched my little girl
Walk away with another man
But always I will remember her
Dancing with bare feet on hot sand
Three pea pods on the vine
Odd wee bee walks entwine
Twitch, squish it is bewitched
Which three peas snap a wish
Fly lights on the pod
Sniffle the pea bloom awed
Fly sees three, jumps so pleased
Flip, flip, flip twitches its wings
Bird spied the bee and fly
Swoop down, down, down awry
Three pea pods on the vine
Bee and fly flee to eglantine
2/12/2021
Tried For A Nursery Rhyme , hope you like
A true vision of loveliness, wiggle-bouncing down the street
Just the sight at times incites a spontaneous victory dance
Particularly when it’s in tight bike shorts perched upon a seat
And I don’t forget the way it flatters your yoga pants
It’s been with us through all our days, even on vacation
And I don’t mean to sound like a total jerk
But truly, it’s my primary source of motivation
Without it I’m not sure that I’d bother going to work
And oh, this is how I feel from the depths of my heart:
Don’t underestimate the marital benefit of your curves
There were times your backside was the only part
Of you that wasn’t totally getting on my nerves
So hold not contempt for my love of your flavor
That bubblicious booty squish-ous wifeberry deluxe
There are times it was an outright marriage saver
Some may try to deny it, but they’re ignorant schmucks
I’m sure there are shallow things that you love about me
Though saying them out loud is probably taboo
Something that you lean on when I drive you up a tree
Just ‘cuz it’s superficial doesn’t mean it’s not true
© 7/21/16
Endorphin Junkie
A is for algae, red, green, blue cells, soaking up sun, sliming teeth
B is for bacterial mat, clumping underneath, earliest born, never asleep
C is for coral reef, the place we all find cover or the sand parrotfish chew and release
D is for diatom, all seeded calcium, all float free, all denizens barely seen
E is for eelgrass, nursery meadows of the anchovy, and other browsers of green
F is for fan worm, filter feeder like a flower, 8000 species on which fish feed
G is for giant kelp, floating on bladders of air they’re forests of cold waters clean
H is for helmet, the royalty of snails who protect our feet, queen, emperor, king
I is for isopod, the chameleon crustacean, they color match what they eat
J is for jellyball, or cannonball jellyfish, not upside down or moon, avoid their heat
K is for keyhole limpet, favorite food of ochre stars, will erect its own wall
L is for laver, the sea lettuce of nori, it swirls red skirt as ocean falls
M is for mermaid’s purse, the sack of the skate whose yolk keeps them alive
N is for nerite, the prisoner striped snail of the rocky zone as numerous as a hive
O is for oyster drills, the snails that slurp oysters and use them to lay eggs
P is for pleurobranch, a sea slug answer for oranges, with one active leg
Q is for quahog, the bivalve seaman who can survive eating the mud
R is for rove beetle, the one waiting to snatch the unwary beach hopper for good
S is for saxitoxin, those red tides produced by mating that can paralyze humans
T is for tubular sponge, they squish, bore and encrust as space lends
U is for urchin, those spiny skinned balls, no eyes or noses but dig food in sand
V is for Venus, Music Volutes dined or Vampire Squids skimming along land
W is for whelk, not the musically inclined, but the slow moving snail in a shell
X is for X and a half, the six rayed star, hungry for anything on the half shell
Y is for yucca, blooming on the beach, they bloom nice and tolerate the sand
Z is for Zostera marinara, the address of eel grass when they're feeling grand
All of this green life is what crunches, stinks, dries and slips underfoot
The rest that find the housing and dining compatible means someone’s on the look.
You melt my butter.
You sop my gravy.
There is no other
like my redneck baby.
You're the frost on my mug;
the salt on my pretzel.
You really squish my mud.
You're the one I want to wrestle.
But if faithful, you're not,
or you be loose and fast;
not Cupid's arrow shot,
but mine, in your ass!
Love, Arlene
Dragon's back! It’s Easter Time and, Yes; we’re going to church today...
Right after the Easter Egg Hunt. Ostrich eggs were perfect, for Dragon, I say…
The Trolls worked at painting them, all night. They wanted them perfect., for sure.
Psychedelic colors seemed to reign supreme. Yes… with lots of crazy bling! De Jure!
Grandpa Troll’s carrying the BIG basket that his penguins decorated in ribbons strung!
His penguins got to go on the egg hunt, too It’s their first, but each picked, only one.
They couldn't understand eating eggs so we gave them chicks, that will hatch, so…
It’s off to church we go, cowboy best for the penguins, tending their eggs as they go.
Dragon has his 'Dragon Hood' cape with yellow bib overalls, totally covered in bling!
Beside himself, till we said he could go. Now he's jumping up and down, as he sings!
He's going to church, for he needs all the help he can get, along the way, true.
We're trying to instill, ‘What Would Jesus Do’. Strengthen his character ideas, too.
But HE thinks he's already a STRONG character, and it's given him great success!
Don't think he understood, what strength of character means, so his soul, God Bless!
So what's next, he ask?... Gee! Taking the kitty down from the curtains would be nice.
You SCARED her there! Remember! When you jumped up and down, once or twice!
NO! You can't burn the curtains to get her down! Gee! I think he’s MISSING the point!
She’s going to church to light a candle for you… to help you find… a better viewpoint.
Remember, in life… Make love not War. Make Friends! After all… What would Jesus Do?
Kitty is TOO important! I'll read you a fable 'The Lion and the Mouse', after Church, too.
No! He didn't squish the mouse! Sigh! Think harder… THINK! WHAT WOULD JESUS DO!
Hope it's an up hill battle. More likely he'll fly over this hill, between, just me and you!
He LOVES church and after his last visit, they rebuilt the church, which was… assured!
They built our group our own SPECIAL section… Of that, you can definitely, be sure!
The church thought, for a very long time, but with a sigh, they knew…WWJD?!!!
Then prayed some more as they cried, at the thought, of what Dragon could do…
In the end, they built a fireproof room, for no matter what they though, to be true…
They knew Dragon is Gods little lost lamb and that’s just “What Jesus Would DO!’
Happy Easter to You!
Twang toot Fing Foo
Jingle jingle rattle boo
Tiger Tiger splash, squish
Skycrapper’s crashing swish
Wretched retches snorting snuck
Timtimbuctoo’s belching buck
Whoosh whoosh Winnie Treetree murmur
Croaking frogie's hiss hiss charmer
Punipuni giggles growling grunt
Oink oink words' trilling witchhunt
Drip, then another and another, pitter-patter,
Rain tapping at my windowpanes.
Darkness and whiteness of winter washed away.
Windows opened, breathing in sweet spring rains.
A feeling of newness blossoms deep within.
It seems it's contagious, clearly spring has sprung.
For when the rain stops, puddles do sit about.
Wet pavement sounds, slaps, steps and squish.
Squeals of delight from little patters with their rubber boots.
Puddle-jumpers, splish-splash, resonating me with joy.
Aah, life as is, with the sweet spring rains.
03/25/2013
For Russell Sivey's contest, " Spring Showers"
A towel that is white is useful
and can clean and be cleaned.
A towel is most functional
in this form.
And suddenly a sock,
a sock that is red
is thrown into the wash
and now our white towel
is pink.
How the towel tossed and turned and
fought and squirmed about in that basin
with the sock, trying to squish
against the walls and avoid that
seeping, insidious, leaking red dye.
But it soaked in and became apart of the
towel, all the same.
entwined in its fibers,
pounded into its weaving
mercilessly soaking into its being.
Nothing is white for the towel anymore,
not bodies to dry or water to clean
it is pink all pink that spreads and separates
and the towel may no longer experience
white.
Our towel, once white is tinged,
singed, tainted, corrupted, violated.
It is not its whole self, a towel, that is,
it is an unclean rag that is tired and
worn out, frayed and stained.
Sure we can toss the towel in the wash,
douse its body in abrasive bleach to
try to wipe clean the slate and return
our towel to its most useful state.
But our towel will thin, and pill, and remain
just a little bit pink.
I will miss elementary school,
Even though it was not cool,
I will learn to get along,
Without school and a gong,
Friends I will hug,
Squish like a bug,
Some friends are smart,
Enemies are tart,
Others are not,
Like a fish the will get caught,
We did not fight,
We did what was right,
Teachers I have liked,
For high school I am psyched.
Leah B.
I want to dance in a field of posies
I’d take off my shoes and squish my toesies
Lay in a field of color all day long
Listen to the birds and mimic their song
Smell all of Mother Nature’s fragrant scents
And prolong my stay by pitching a tent
I’d lie on my back and look at the sky
And linger there until the moon is high
I’d savor the moment, then return home
Where stress, anxiety and chaos roam
And when my day is a little off track
I will close my eyes and I’ll be right back
Communing with nature’s sights, sounds and smells
In the field of posies, I know so well.