Long Armpit Poems
Long Armpit Poems. Below are the most popular long Armpit by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Armpit poems by poem length and keyword.
Almighty God, I guess you must see man as a disease
This bright blue orb that we call home must cause you much unease
No government is ever gonna listen to our pleas
Their taxes will not save us… can we have our ball back please
We drive our cars and fly in planes for holidays on skis
And now they tell us that we’ve brought our planet to its knees
We’re told that we will drown or burn though some of us will freeze
Which seems a tad dramatic… can we have our ball back please
The scientists keep saying we eat too much meat and cheese
They tell us we can all survive on lentils, beans and peas
Which won’t achieve too much because not everyone agrees
And so I have to ask you, can we have our ball back please
Another storm has ripped up houses, bridges, cars and trees
The sewers overflowed into the rivers and the seas
But now we’re in a heatwave and it’s thirty-five degrees
It’s really rather hot so can we have our ball back please
Whatever’s wrong with planet Earth is killing bugs and bees
Perhaps we should get all our products made by the Chinese
To save the world we’re armpit deep in net zero decrees
But only you can save us… can we have our ball back please
(With apologies to William Shakespeare)
Shall I compare thee to a box of frogs
for inasmuch you seem to be as mad,
you've really let your looks go to the dogs
your face would look quite good worn by your Dad.
Your armpit hair blossoms forth like a hedge,
a thicket bursting out atop your vest,
from deep within each summer, sparrows fledge,
your muffin tops a fine home for their nests.
At parties you can lighten up a room
if only from the window you would shift,
you stand, hitch hiking as the traffic zooms
hoping someone will give your chins a lift.
For beauty is skin deep I have no doubt,
in which case I'm afraid you're inside out.
(Love poem #2 to follow)
I don't remember, when this poet in me was born
What I remember is his softening of heart,
Growing on the head and hunger to write.
With so much pain around
This world has suffocated
The thoughts that freely lingered.
These flying thoughts roaming in the freedom of the air
returned from the painful journey
by being severely hurt with pains floating around.
The poet in me has seen the nature's beauty
With admiration and jubilation
And wandered from dawn to dusk
It travelled on the flight of the air
By flapping the wings of happiness
Spreading the message of peace
And collected the blessing of the Almighty
Spread all across the path to the wisdom
Today, Alas, In polluted air with hatred floating around
the despair wings struggle to flap
and find its way to pureness of wisdom
It travels on a never ending painful path
It sees the sea of suffering heads
Hung before the shameless devils
Sucking the blood from innocent veins
Fulfilling their thirst of greed
And enjoying the cry around.
The poet in me is crawling
In its knee, wounded and broken
Truly is shaken by the war and the cry
Of hapless souls carrying the rotten body
They walk to meet my writing desires
And narrate their painful story
Which my mind imagines not
Nor my skills approve to jot down
I let my silent body, to take over
The whirling mind with bubbling thoughts
And embrace them under its armpit
And sing a lullaby to make them sleep forever.
For the new
on the rolling earth
The adventurous mind
Yes, I need
On the lazy piece of white paper
The pen is paralyzed patient
Need to travel me
To cure my pen
I like to travel
but without arriving anywhere
Because of the pen of poetry
does not know how to stop
Nowadays
Justice
Truth
Right -wrong
Religions
Political throne
Constitution
Judge
Scale of punishment
all live in the woody armpit of savage power!
The adventurous mind of the pen
comes out from the prevalent dark den
without fixing any trend
to enjoy all thru wisdom shower
for the new independent intuition seeker
02.11.2020 Chattogram
In the bread house, I see, and hear
families break bread together.
A knee-high son, sits under the
mother's armpit; dad sits across
from her. The baby sits in a
high chair, seemingly the only
one aware that he's the head of
the table. He pounds his fist, when
the morsels don't come fast enough
from his mom's fingers, to his mouth.
The knee-high son is so happy,
he sings indiscernible words
of a song he either learned in
daycare, or from some bizarre, thing
on television. Dad sometimes
helps calm the baby down: sometimes.
The mom is content. She eats. She
consoles. She feeds. She eats. She is
their moon; she keeps a fixed orbit.
1) Pick up the cat and cradle it in the crook of your arm as if holding a baby. Position forefinger and thumb on either side of the cat's mouth and gently apply pressure to cheeks while holding pill in right hand. As the cat opens it's mouth pop pill into mouth. Allow cat to close mouth and swallow.
2) Retrieve pill from floor and cat from behind sofa. Cradle cat in arm and repeat process.
3) Retrieve cat from bedroom and throw away soggy pill.
4) Take new pill from package and cradle cat in left arm holding rear paws tightly with left hand. Force jaws open and push pill to back of mouth with right forefinger. Hold mouth shut and count to 10 .
5) Retrieve pill from goldfish bowl and cat from top of wardrobe.
6) Kneel on floor with cat firmly wedged between knees. Hold front and rear paws ignoring low growls emitted by cat. Get partner to hold head firmly with one hand while forcing ruler into mouth. Drop pill down ruler and rub cat's throat vigorously.
7) Retrieve cat from curtain rail and take another pill from the package. Make note to buy new ruler and repair curtains. Carefully sweep shattered figurines and vases from hearth and set aside for gluing later.
8) Wrap cat in a towel and get partner to lie on top of cat with head just visible from below armpit. Put pill in the end of a drinking straw, force cat's mouth open with pencil and blow down the straw.
9) Check label to see if pill is harmful to humans and drink a pint of beer to take the taste away. Apply band aide to partner's forearm and remove blood from carpet with cold water and soap.
10) Retrieve cat from neighbor's shed and get another pill. Open another beer. Place cat in cupboard and close door firmly on neck. Force mouth open with dessert spoon and flick pill down throat with elastic band.
11) Fetch screwdriver from garage and put cupboard door back on hinges.
Drink beer, fetch bottle of Scotch, pour a shot and drink. Apply whiskey compress to cheek to disinfect, then toss back another shot.
Throw away remnant of T-shirt and put on a new one.
12) Take cat to vet and get him to give cat the pill.
In the bread house, I see, and hear a family of four break bread together. The knee-high son, sits under the mother's armpit, and dad sits across from her. The baby sits in a high chair, seemingly the only one aware that he's the head of the table. He pounds his fist, when the morsels don't come fast enough from his mom's fingers, to his mouth. The knee-high son is so happy, that he sings completely indiscernible lyrics of a song he either learned in daycare, or from some bizarre, unidentifiable species on television. The dad occasionally helps calm the baby down: occasionally. The mom is content. She eats. She consoles. She feeds. She eats. She is their moon; she keeps them on a fixed orbit.
Resuming bulk from those which almost don't exist
Stoic in my unique role, careful timber tiger crafter
Tiny depicted tigers roll on wheels, pulled by strings
Lasting remnants of an animal disappearing faster
Eager tourists, affluent enough to pay admission
Flock to witness the final marsupial's mystique
Many striped predecessors, hunted to extinction
Troops are scouring habitat, a specimen they seek
Partnerless canid cage pacing future seems bleak
History's camouflage hails a shameful critique
Rucksack bumpy with fifty wooden replicas
A long week's worth of care, painted precision
I trek a mile of of dense hill bush hike arduous
To give Last Tiger shop their hot cake provisions
Tabled display draws awe stuck children, ironic
Their admiration for wooden scuptures intense
Crazed praise for rare cat, manic sprung from it
Taking my pay, ready to repeat, my heart laments
For the futlie pursuit of proud viewers' affluence
Satisfaction part macabre holds their suspense
Hessian emptiness nestled beneath my armpit
Familiar meander to log stumped hut, return to task
Seeing striped stirring, captures, breath insufficient
Thylacine's elusive emergence, most likely the last
He growls, scared departure means an outcome grim
Finding my voice, I tell him I need him to maintain
My craft, - his image inspires it, - I'll never exploit him
After fragile minutes, his wavered trust, incredibly gained
Following yellow bush thigh high survivor anointed
With thylacine compassion, - he is home,- reunited
8th August 2020
In the drawer, a pair did reside,
Same color, same stripes, side by side.
They danced and they walked,
Till one vanished, no trace to abide.
To the washer, they went, hand in hand,
To rid themselves of dirt and sweat so grand.
But alas, in the dryer,
One sock was a crier,
For its partner, it searched every strand.
Weeks passed, and the mystery unsolved,
Till in a T-shirt armpit, the missing sock evolved.
It found its way back,
From the laundry track,
With a lesson, its tale has resolved.
So remember, when laundry's the task,
To keep pairs intact is no ask.
For a panty hose snug,
Keeps socks in a hug,
And romance in the laundry won't bask.
Thou has been our saviour,
Though we've been bewitched by different savours.
That emanate from thy armpit,
Pulling along with it,our infamous wits.
The product of your skilfulness,
Had stirred in us readiness.
To war against food stupor,
Even if indirectly we're tasked by the law.
Like the yellow sherbet ball,
That gives untamed attention to the winter's call.
The seat on which you abode,
Bear to us variant valuables we can't afford.
And the ignonimous status of your delivery,
Heartily give our thoughts laundry.
Many says: 'His ways and heart are hardened',
But never mind: 'Omi po ju oka lo ni'.
They often remonstrate on your health,
But they know not that it brings death to our dearth.
Sa wo!,iwo erin sa ni wo ti n fon,
Keep blowing till their no more chance for fun.
c.2017