Best Wet Poems


Premium Member When the Streets Are Wet

There is one kind of beauty in a morning walk illuminated by the moon..and yet…there is a different kind of beauty walking after a rain…when all the streets are wet.

The streets take on a glow…one you never see at noon…the shadows seem to shimmer in light reflected from the moon.

There is a freshness in the air…a coolness in the breeze…as it carries with it raindrops it has shaken from the trees.

Still enough raindrops remain upon the trees…those unable to take flight…giving the trees a feeling of Christmas…as they sparkle in the night.

Age seems to fade away…as you breathe the misty air into your lungs…as you splash around in puddles…like you did when you were young.

If you listen to the crickets…the owls…the nightingales…you find it difficult to decide…if you are hearing more sounds than usual…or if they’re just amplified.

You stop a moment…look up…and give thanks…grateful you’ve been allowed…to watch the moon, the stars….the planets…playing hide and seek among the clouds.

And you pause as you’re walk is ending…trying to remember everything because you don’t want to forget…
the sights
the sounds
from your morning walk…
when all the streets are wet.
© Jim Yerman  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member She's Wet

I took her hand at sweet sixteen
Kissed her on the cheek
The clouds looked down
We were about to be drowned
No umbrellas to protect our dreams

I held her hand
As we ran and ran
Raindrops kissing our cheeks
I gazed up at her delicious peeks
I said sorry sweet, do not cry

A tear she shed
As she bled
Her love was cut in two
She looked at me, as if to plea
Shivering she said, don’t mind me I am wet

Wipe away my damp memories

Premium Member Wonderfully Wet

Lost, deep, among the grasses of the dunes

                    A summer shower rinsed us, sweet and warm

          As, breathing in my ear, your steamy runes

                              I tasted drops of sea mist from your form

                    Our late-day passions ended as the storm

                              Was blushed to silence by the melting sun

          The swirling stars, like fireflies in a swarm

                    Told painted clouds the evening had begun

And by a waking moon ... our lover's dreams were spun.


                             - June 24, 2018 -




~ 1st Place ~  in the "End June 2018 Premiere Any Form" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Sponsor.

~ 8th Place ~  in the "Summer Rain Storm 2, Spencerian Stanza" Poetry Contest, Dale Gregory Cozart, Sponsor.

Syllables counted at HowManySyllables.com, no cliche's per Poetry Soup Cliche' Finder.


Premium Member Just Getting Wet


Just getting wet

Saddened
By things done and undone,
Unhappily
I seek to abandon
Thoughts of reason,

And I step out in drenching rain
As angry sky takes revenge
On opaque clouds
Blocking its vision,

Unprepared,
I pretend to have fun
Trying to convince myself
I'm dancing in the rain,

But if truth be known
I'm just getting wet.

January 3, 2018
Placed 1st: Strand Pick 8 Contest by Brian Strand

Wet Was Toilet Seat

Wet Was Toilet Seat

Here is my problem want to repeat;
Some liquid was left on toilet seat;
Made by man,
Who always can;
My frantic fanny and it would meet.

Jim Horn

How to greet a toilet seat and toilet
paper each sheet. Incidentally, I
always keep mine shut so the cats
can't drink out of it.
© James Horn  Create an image from this poem.

Wet Brain- Fictional

Theres this knawing in my tummy
A burning in my ear
I feel your presence next to me
Yet you are hardly here

I'm not sure when it happened
but now it's crystal clear 
Though your body's in the room
Youre vacant. --Insincere 

I wonder- was it worth it? 
To throw it all away?
All the things you squandered
to keep the pain at bay

All the things you had to pawn
just to get you through your day
Traded growth for comfort
Traded gold for hay

And I don't think you'll ever realize
the person you used to be
Now on a quest with no direction
In drunken ecstasy 

These thoughts so sick and twisted
They make me want to flee
Spinning round in circles
A pirate lost at sea

I wish that you could see it
the way I clearly do
Suddenly I wonder
Who am I talking to?

Look around one last time
There's no one here. It's true. 
And that is when reality
finally does come through

I see it there in front of me
A reflection in a mirror
I know it now for certain
Death is creeping nearer

I poor myself another drink
I hold my poison dearer
Then anything I've ever held 
Reality becomes much clearer

I know I'll never break away
from this cage I built
It's destiny to end it here
There's nothing left but guilt

So I gently shut my eyes
And pray I'll quickly wilt
I look for one last sign of comfort
Grab tight to my quilt

The one my mother gave to me
on her final day on earth
She died too from the bottle
Pitiful, without self worth

I set a lonely fire with a lonely match
I watch it slowly flicker as I lay by the hearth
There was never once a chance for me
Doomed from the day of birth


Premium Member She's Wet

When she gives a cough or a sneeze
Some wee trickles down past her knees
Her knickers are damp
She smells like a tramp
Dashing home so nobody sees

TITLE INSPIRED FROM A COMMENT BY ARTHUR VASO

28th March 2015

Wet Moon

Sagan grins from a Pale Blue Dot
As LCROSS finds water in Cabeus.
Is Su Shih's bright moon finally told --
Echoed by Dickinson's moon of gold?

Did Armstrong sit in contemplation
O'er cheesy man-in-the-moon inspiration
By Yeats, Coleridge, Thomas (Dylan) and Shelley;
Li Po, Longfellow, Whitman and Lindsay?

Under Moore's young moon of May we're planting
Bamboo groves in moonbeams slanting.
Moonrise to moonset, across dead rivers --
Elvis and Emily share moon-rock shivers.

To Sandburg's moon of harvest silver,
Wells used Cavorite (but just a sliver).
Now, listen as the Selonites motion --
Whispering of Earth and its teeming blue ocean.

While I, wild moon-child, begin to spool
By the light of Merritt's Lovecraftian Pool:
"Moon-water shall be the death of me
This year."
© Tom Arnone  Create an image from this poem.

Wet But Wiser

palindromes

A dog! A panic in a pagoda!
Teenager Rex brought a can of soda;
he shook it up hard and then pulled the tab.
But Rex was too slow for their choc'late lab.

Cain: a maniac, the brown dog's head swelled,
confused by the fizz but a rat he had smelled.
He was a god's dog, ergo, a ogre -
mighty fine watchdog, well-trained at Kroger.

Schooled in their stockroom with all kinds of nuts
whose tricks won ribbons for all kinds of mutts.
Cain's radar kicked in, went straight for the can
and turned it on Rex who lost his game plan.

On the way out, Cain offered some Kleenex.
No one's the wiser, except maybe Rex.
Recording the facts, Cain writes in his log,
Was it a rat I saw? or Am I a dog?


6 palindromes:
A dog, a panic in a pagoda
Cain, a maniac
god's dog
ergo, a orgre
radar
Was it a rat I saw

Premium Member She's Wet Vii Continued

She's Wet VII Continued

When she gives a cough or a sneeze 
Some wee trickles down past her knees 
Her knickers are damp 
She smells like a tramp 
Dashing home so nobody sees 

Written by Jan 
Inspired by Arthur 
Continued by Mystic Rose

 She does a little peepee in the bowl
 Voiding her bladder is her only goal 
Then out comes a fart 
Fresh and a la carte
 Followed by a turd down the hole!

 Continued by Sey

 A sigh of relief she wipes her red rear
 as the monstrous turd starts to disappear
 much to her surprise
 it has too much size 
and shoots out and hits her left ear 

Continued by Steve

 Dear lady of the house please don't send me to hell
 I know it would get rid of that awful smell 
But I have an idea for some fantastic cons
I will be a banker in stocks and bonds
And should I fail and the flush you administer
I will pop out downstream and become a Prime Minister




 Continued by Nonsense Alley 

Get antibacterial Wet -Ones!
Use plenty for cleaning those soiled buns
Got turd in the ear?
Please! Have little fear.
Buy Wet-Ones for poop- ear ala runs. 

Continued by Kimberly 

Good gracious this lim'ricks a foul one!
With peepee, a fart and a brown one 
Now all has been voided 
Smell can't be avoided
So snap on that clothes pin for more fun!

Continued by Eve

Oh! Dear! I guess I am going to have to get some
 Depends  custom 
 made,this is just happening too often  
 and I’m losing too many of my good chosen
underwear in the garbage can at Wal-mart and spending a fortune
© Eve Roper  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Little Wet Wings

~   hummer, far at sea -



                              wee wings, my steadfast comfort ...



               first mate ... of rare worth.   ~

Wet Dreams

Wet Dreams

WITH HER DOWN CAST EYES, MY SWEET ANGEL LISTENS TO MY PRAYERS
SHE LOOKS PREDISPOSED TO TRANQUILIZE ALL MY CARES
AS I FALL TO SLEEP OVER MY MIND SWEET FASCINATION REIGNS
TO MAKE ME THINK SWEET PARADISE I HAD GAINED
SHE ENTERS MY DREAMS LIKE A THIEF IN THE NIGHT
I BASK IN HER LOVE WITH EXQUISTE DELIGHT
HER EYES ARE THE STARS, LIKE SPARKLING DIAMONDS IN THE NIGHT
HER SOFT KISSES ARE TENDER, AND DRAIN ME OF ALL MY MIGHT
SHE HAS STOLEN MY SOUL, HER LOVE BURNS LIKE FIRE
INFLAMED IS MY HEART, MY PASSION FILLED DESIRE
I EMBRACE HER BEAUTEOUS SPIRIT; A THOUSAND TIMES I AM BLESSED
HER FAIR STATUESQUE BODY I CARINGLY CARESS
MY ANGEL A TOP OF ME -   I CANNOT DENY HER
AS SHE TAKES ME TO HEAVEN-   WE SOAR FOREVER HIGHER
WE FEEL THE THUNDER-  AS OUR BODIES PEAK
A FEELING SO WANTED, -  A NEEDED RELEASE
AN EXPLOSION OF EMOTION,
AND THEN SATISFYING PEACE.

I AWAKE THE NEXT MORN - MY SHEETS SOAKING WET
I REMEMBER MY DREAM,-    HOW COULD I EVER FORGET
I PANICK WHEN I SEE -     SOME UNMENTIONABLE STAINS
A PRACTICE I KNOW MY PARENTS WOULD PREFER I REFRAIN.
FOR ASSUREDLY I TELL YOU, REMEMBERING THIS YOUNG BOYS BLISS
THAT HUNGRYLY I WAIT FOR MY NEXT ANGEL’S KISS.

Watercolors Wet

The artist sighs with deep regret,
too late to stop, the colors wet,
greens and blues and purples met,
pollute and blur his raw sunset.

A baby stirs, begins to fret,
an athlete pauses, drenched in sweat,
daily building karmic debt,
turn up the volume on the set.

Darkness spawns a silhouette,
war-torn bloodless bayonet,
too drunk to say the alphabet,
life and death sing their duet.

The engine roars in the Corvette,
haven't hit 190 yet,
the car leaps forward like a jet,
dear God, I want a cigarette.


©Danielle White

Warm Wet Kisses

Barren is the beach, as ancient stars gather in dreams; a sprinkling from above....

Twined amid eugenic moonbeams; beauty glowing within loving eyes; angelic

Brushed this canvas gentle waves; washed hither about the thirsting shore ~

Orgasmic snow white doves it seems; out of place, while they perch atop the clouds

Halos with open eyes standing aside, fruitful vines; the essence in this their love....

**********************************************************************

...."Warm Wet Kisses" *

The Wet Patch - Collaboration Between Seren Roberts and Mandy Tams

Collaboration between
Seren Roberts and Mandy Tams:
 
The Wet Patch
 
Why sit with a frown is there a need?
Yes she whispered in my ear, I think I peed.
 
My knickers are wet, I dare not move at all
If I stand up, down they will surely fall
 
Your knickers are wet, ha I did scoff
But I made sure I did, no laugh or a cough
 
For under my seat I would then have to peer
As there may be a puddle just under here
 
Went shopping before we met for lunch
Hoped lollies would stay frozen, so I could crunch
 
Put it in my handbag, sat upon my lap
Decided to eat quickly, so no mishap.
 
But lunch took quite a while  
We had a laugh and a smile.
 
The lollies got hot, and then they did melt
I felt a cold patch sneak under my belt.
 
I swept off the table cloth wrapped it round like a toga
To everyone watching I said ‘it’s a new move in yoga'

To the bathroom I ran and locked the door
I dropped my wet undergarments, onto the floor
 
Knickers now down, I could see the stain
Was orange not pee and that I still maintain
 
I sniffed at my undies and then I did think
They smell of oranges, as I rinsed in the sink

 I hadn’t peed at all, twas not a mishap
My ice lollies had melted, wetting my lap
 
Next time you see an old dear with a wet patch on her frock
Remember it might be a lolly, so you better not mock
 
One day you know that old dear will be you
So to yourself and to others you must always be true
 
A wet patch you may see, but no lollies are there
So offer her some wipes, but don’t sit on her chair
© 2013

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