Fizzy Poems | Examples

Our Effervescence

Line of inquiry: 
"conjoined with the whole
we play our life role
exuding a scent
granting love consent" - Unseeking Seeker


How wonderful if like a fizzy drink
we all would sparkle with effervescence
which with love’s divine aroma could link
us all together with the florescence
of a spirituality so sweet
that with great excitement we’d be spilling
over in our talents with desire to treat
one another with love. Oh, how thrilling -
using our life roles to lift each other
as the world’s creator would have us do,
for everyone's our sister or brother!
Life’s burdens we can help each other through
if kindness we show more than simply speak.
Exude the joy and brightness we all seek!

Water sings a lilting lullaby

Hear Ye!
the babbles of brook flowing on by.
the fizzy hiss of foam floating on tide.
the howls of a waterfall crying into sky.
the raging roar of waves crashing on beach.
the pitter-patter raps of raindrops on window panes.
the splish and swish of paddles straddling lake.
the tinkle taps of gentle rain showers on rooves.
the guttural gurgle of water sinking down drains.
the blink and plink of dew drops tumbling down leaves.
all singing in cadence, a lulling lilting lullaby,
caressing ye to sleep.
But, Beware Ye, 
lest Ye hear,
the alien tap of 
drip, 
     drip, 
           drip, 
drops in sink!
relentless, incessant, clatter, 
insistent for a fix!

Disintegrating

What if I lose it all?
Forget who I am and
Die and cry and fall. 
I'll be nothing but just sand,
Floating and fleeting in the air,
In the world Without a care. 

Will it numb the pain,
Or it will all be in vain?

Or I'll be liberated from my agonies,
Like those dreamy house's balconies?
Will the tears end or the tears will end me,
Or they'll just turn into a vast never-ending sea?

 Will it abate the thundering storms
That reside inside my mind,
All those loud and dark forms
That always keep me behind. 

Save me if you can or I'll be
Nothing but a mere memory
Lost forever as a time so free,
Minor misty misery. 

These screams are flowing as fizzy as waves in my veins,
Fostering the flowers of my excruciating pains,
Poisonous purple flowers are in sunlight and basking,
All the teal tears and tangerine turmoil they're masking.

If you won't play nice, I'm taking my poem home

"If you won't play nice, I'm taking my poem home."
"Oh, poor baby! Look! He can't take it, Jerome."
"Don't! I swear! If you spray it with that fizzy foam,
I'm taking my poem home."
"So, take it home," sass Billy and Jerome.
"We don't give a rat's ass about your stupid little poem!"

Mulberry trees and Butterflies

One day in May, I sat nearby a stream
where a few mulberry trees were flourishing.
I rested my head against the trunk of one
where clusters of white comfrey grew nearby.
Beautiful yarrow were also scattered there,
with pinkish-purple bells; some were yellow.

I must have fallen into a dream
because I saw the stream was rippling
with fizzy sounds of bubbles.
The stream was pink champagne!
The flowers around me performed a ballet,
swaying delicately in the breeze
as the bells of the yarrow rang a dulcet tune.
I woke up all a sudden,
noticing that many leaves of my mulberry tree
were not leaves at all.
They were actually butterflies coral streaked.
I’d startled them on waking,
and a cloud of them fluttered all together
away from my tree.

Other bright butterflies joined the throng,
partaking of the nectar of the once-dancing flowers.
Although the stream no longer bubbled champagne,
the reality of mulberry trees and butterflies
was more breath-taking
than what I ever
could have dreamed.

somewhere in here are purses

My garage houses sixteen hundred paintings you see.
Large cartoons on canvases, painted by me.
There are floor to wall shelves, crammed full.
My garage is alive, a living, breathing happy soul.

There are garden tools –spades, trowels, a yellow rake.
Two axes to chop trees, for nature’s overgrown sake.
In the corner is a pink frig full of crème soda too.
If they are cold and fizzy, I am never blue.

My garage houses masks, statues, and teacher’s things.
Somewhere in here are purses, one with two diamond rings.
I have not found it yet, for there is a lot of stuff to sort.
There are balls of all shapes and sizes, for every kind of sport.

There are two cars – my husband’s is sixteen-years-old.
There are garage sale signs, written in magic marker bold.
A bike, riding lawnmower, shoes, boots, and mittens too.
Material, yarn, tools, office paper, books, and hot guns full of glue

Greet Me

Greet me
Spring sprite,
fresh docile smile;
Whose whispers woo
with hymns of lover's tune.

Enamor me
with fizzy phrases;
As doting night
enthralls, with stars,
the bashful moon.

Cove me
within bossom's veil 
of plusing 
neverending 
blazing charm.

Congenial hover,
like clouds do
to pacify and soothe 
the brassy, heated,
brazen sun.

Dreach
my dreams
with valiant gales
of furor baron
kisses gained.

Like Nature's gift of life,
revives plains' drought 
with cloudburst,
Heaven's 
inundating rain.

Seraphic Scene Extant

The long journey 
of the slithering stream 
on the languid lap 
of pensive plateau,
meandering montage
in ebony melancholy
of forlorn forest,  
flows on contorted contours 
of languishing leaned land 
at cataracts askew. 
The vibrant visage 
of fantasy flight 
of fluidized swan feather,
serenading in monotone, 
resonates in the silence 
of verdant emerald, 
the tune of tranquil time 
ripples with the echo 
of ethereal euphoria. 

The aquatic flow 
of fizzy champagne surge,
dancing with the cadence 
of esoteric ecstasy 
in sculpted split course
around obdurate boulders, 
deposed defiant
with mesmeric malachite glow, 
amidst patina of plants, 
drenched by the drizzle 
of the setting scarlet sun
in the sequined sky, 
illumines the mystique mist 
of diaphanous drape, 
rising slow
as suspended strata,
unlayered exaltation
lifts the shroud of sorrow 
from the austere alcove 
of my amorphous anguish,
makes me revere
the seraphic scene,
the effervescent extant,
timeless…

Dear Frend

Dear Frend,

I has to tell yahs, I am think’n of yah in the worst way
No wait. That ain’t it.
I ….
just a second.
The neighbor’s dog is bark’n and I have to throw something.

Okay, I am back.
I have thawt bout call’n yah’all for a long time now
maybe a couple of years
But what if you are dead?

I am not being rude. I am just.
Gosh dang it!
Just a second! I have to see what that neighbor is doing.
Be right back.

Okay, I am settled down with my fizzy drink now.
Do you remember me?
I am the girl you met on an airplane a few years back.
The one who climbed over the aisle and hit the person behind us with her purse.

You said to call if I ever got to town.
I plan to be in San Diego next week.
Can I stay at your house?
Please let me know as soon as you can.

I had texted you, but you must not have seen it.
Sincerely,

Your pal Gladys
PS I think it was summer of twenty-twenty

Porch Dreaming

His idle head
went running, jogging,
racing in a convertible Porsche.

A wicker chair creaks,
images arise behind closed eyes.

Out there, beyond his sight,
people watch him sprinting away,
dogs chase and yap -
running like that
can get you fizzy-dizzy.

No, he will go shopping
for a Tesla,
or a Chevy Corvette.
Which?

Decision making
always made him dither-some
and achy.

Too much purchasing power
quite tired him out.

The sun, was by now,
falling asleep on his skin
as he rocked back and forth
counting pots of gold.

Dream Delish, Side of Fish - Nursery Rhyme

I nodded off for forty winks,
and dreamt of scrod, so odd, methinks!
For they were golfing on the links,
about to putt a halibut,
while slurping fizzy, fishy drinks.

’Twas then, a walrus did inhale
that halibut, from head to tail.
Those scrod, to God, did surely rail,
insisted then, a mulligan;
their rantings were to no avail.

Then muttering at their confound,
they threw their putters on the ground,
no halibut nor flounder found.
Round squashed, nay, squished without a fish,
off to the pub, those scrod were bound.

A ruddy server rudely poked
my ribs; I suddenly awoke.
I do not fib nor do I joke;
there at the pub to have some grub,
some fish and chips; one lucky bloke!

—————

for the Nursery Rhyme Poetry Contest
sponsored by Eve Roper
written on 2/26/23

Jogging From Memory

I’m an old guy jogging
like Joe Biden, kind of goofy looking.
The wind is dragging its feet,
the sun is frying sweat again.

I like to rock on the porch
shopping in my mind
for stuff too expensive to actually buy,

but out here people stare,
young girls giggle,
dogs sniff and yap, some attack.
I get a runners fizzy-dizzy,
then cuss under my breath.

I think I will shop for a Tesla later
or a New Chevy Corvette.
Maybe Amazon has some miniature models
for a kid my age.

Jogging From Memory

I’m an old guy jogging
like Joe Biden, kind of goofy looking.
The wind is dragging its feet,
the sun is frying sweat again.

I like to rock on the porch
shopping in my mind
for stuff too expensive to actually buy,

but out here people stare,
young girls giggle,
dogs sniff and yap, some attack.
I get a runners fizzy-dizzy,
then cuss under my breath.

I think I will shop for a Tesla later
or a New Chevy Corvette.
Maybe Amazon has some miniature models
for a kid my age.

Run For Your Life

Have I got my glasses
And my hearing aid
My bottle of mineral water
No fizzy lemonade
I cannot find my handbag
Or my money purse
Putting on my shoes
Have made my bunions worse
I have a box of tissues
For my runny nose
Oh dear, what a nuisance
I have a ladder in my hose,
Removal of my stockings
Make's my poor backache
Things I used to do in minutes
Now an hour takes.
One sleeve of my jacket
Is inside out,
If I wasn't so hoarse
I might attempt to shout.
As I mumble and grumble
About the absurdities of life
My stomach starts to rumble
And I have to run for my life!

Boat Similes

Abacus yacht boats pleasy
Banana boats are queazy
Catamaran boats squeezy
Dinghy boats all out easy
Eagle Craft boats too cheesy
Fishing boats yet so breezy
Game boats crazy uneasy
Houseboats creepy sneezy
Inflatable boats fizzy
Jet boats so smokeeasy
Kayak boats much so creasy
Lifeboats namely are busy
Motor boats mainly teasy
Narrowboats are but woozy
Origami boats leasy
Pontoon boats namely weasy
Q-Ship boats likewise greasy
Rider boats rather wheezy
Sedan bridge boats are flimsy
Trawler boats just as queasy
U-boats notably dizzy
Vessel boats sure are squeasy
Wakeboard boats easy-peasy
Xebec boats rather frenzy
Yacht boats are indeed sleazy
Zille fish boats funny fuzzy

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