Long Itsy bitsy Poems
Long Itsy bitsy Poems. Below are the most popular long Itsy bitsy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Itsy bitsy poems by poem length and keyword.
Two hours before sunset
My study commence
To the table n' chair, I rivet
My green-blue orbs
Trying to absorb
The itsy-bitsy letters
printed on the papers
After one & half hour
I loose my power
I shift n sit on the bed
With all my books to read
After some more minutes
My legs extend
N finally it's time to sunset
Below the horizon, as the sun goes
Shutter of my orbs, also close
My books turns into Lordess
Magically, of wisdom & knowledge
My head on her lap
With soft n heavenly hand
She was fondling that
Showering glitzy stars from sky
Other worldly n silvery
She sings lullaby
Through her silken lips
N I fall into a deep sleep
14March 2018
Poetry contest -Lullaby in the sunset
Sponsored by -Vermillion Scythe
The bathroom floor’s coldness
comforts in light of the surrounding chill.
The crackled ceiling above
possesses a soft spot for a spider
Just like in the children’s song.
Still these seemingly harmless
Arachnoids precede
Future generations that
one day will farm
the last remaining mammals,
(mousy creatures)
like we raise cattle.
Tying them up
Paralyzing them with fear
Then having their way with the poor creatures…
I need to lie down.
Now, thinking of the knot
in my stomach begging for mercy with a voice
heretofore unheard, I circle back to how
I came to be there
in the first place.
Walked in of my own
volition. Took the bait. Was had.
I am my own worst enemy.
“Classic underachiever.”
I am close to losing it on the bathroom floor,
whatever I have left of it…
Time to find the humor in the Master Plan –
think deep, ominous voice as “Master Plan” gets annunciated.
The voice of god.
Imagine her, the one disordered with narcissism,
standing above you,
the spider has come down to my level
and is crawling along the bathroom floor.
Now with her heal,
big as the moon,
just itching to crush,
for no other reason than she can
she raises her foot
I scream my song silently:
“The itsy bitsy spider."
Many children step on bugs.
She begged for mercy –
Please don’t kill it mommy!–
as the shoe came down on her spider.
(How did I get here?)
Her future rests on the bathroom floor.
And I wonder:
What have I done?
Offspring between close family members
not biologically fit nor ablest
even if direct immediate relations
consider themselves best
buddies, emotionally intimate, and offload
heavy matters weighing down
on their respective figurative chest,
cuz lurking within brethren and cistern genes,
and/or chromosomes dwell deadliest
nastiest, and weakest link undermining
searingly robust reproductive human stock,
thru molecular hijacking gungho extremest
right wing trumpeting malefactor breeding
distilling, fomenting, et cetera the faintest
self destructive invisible agents provocateurs
dredging existentially faultiest
predispositions, and vulnerabilities
compromising in utero body electric,
asper offspring saddled with funniest
itsy bitsy teenie weenie yellow Polka dot bikini
donned flesh impossible to remove,
which surgery could imperil and render feeblest
unto Caesar, an ides of march, sans flimsiest
excuse for a successor
to the royal porcelain throne,
which progeny could exhibit the frailest
constitution, and possibly appear as freakiest
looking hominid this side of Schwenksville
with napped hair most frizziest
affixed to a beanpole gangliest
androgynous cisgender metasexual
being description also including geekiest,
not to mention ghastliest
simple minded looking gruesomest
human being, who presents grimmest
prospects quite dim tubby happiest
bellowing soul since...incest
came back in vogue when polar vortex
ushered necessity to bed with kindliest
people professing unconditional love.
Can I just,
Take a look,
At the back
Of the linen
I sew
And the pockets i made
Nd the memories new
With some frnds nd some lies
Nd some things that i knew
Intended things that i did...
With the patterns of dew
With some beautiful color
Nd the lines and the curves
Some pigmented smile
Nd little showed the truth
The fragments were shred
Nd the threads being shed
Nd then i drowned it in water
Nd stitched what was left
No opens no closure no itsy bitsy threads.
.no shreds no pieces no drops are left ....
Its cosmic ..divine...it's out of the world...
Sewing with love this magic of words
I took every piece nd took every shred....
Created a very beautiful spread...
I matched it with linen ..Nd added it in .....
Casements are oozing... brighteness nd light ...
Of that power that just came to lifee..
Nd is it me
.It is me ..what is quite pretty fine ...
Nd then i wore that linen
Nd it let me be me ..
What i wanted to be ...
A teeny tiny itsy bitsy faerie door
With a small red heart and a joyful feel about it
Welcomed travelers
Elves, gnomes, dwarfs, frogs, mice and bats
Entered the faerie door at one time
Eating a meal or sharing a laugh
The spirit on the other side of the faerie door
Kept things simple – staples stocked, so they could fix a meal.
Beds made with comfortable fluffy blankets and fresh washed pillows.
She was used to keeping things neat and tidy.
They came when they needed to, and they left after a bit.
She enjoyed their laughter, their joy, their comradery.
They never met their benefactor but they all felt her presence
One of those powerful fey entities who stays out of sight
But is ever present.
If you find this faerie door deep in the woods
Or in the meadow, please stop by.
The light is on, and she is waiting to serve.
Quoting: Veritia Venandi "Eternal light shines through darkest eclipse "
When the heart breaks down and darkness wraps the soul
like a shawl made of wool with web like little aching holes
We long for the break of dawn to arrive and for stars to leave behind
their itsy bitsy spark of light
When we have been devoured by deception
lied and left to be discarded ,
the only thing that blesses is the morning
with her absolvent light ;
For what crime does a heart do when all it does is love
to the point of no return,
what heart can stand the test of time once cracked in two?
It needs the tenacity of eternal light,
even through the darkest of eclipse,
it needs a fighting chance, to cleave the night.
There is a tiny itsy bitsy teensy weensy bit of vomit in her hair.
She is a prim lady, prideful, and can be slightly mean about stuff.
This is church, and I do not want to embarrass her,
For then she might throw one of her fits and embarrass the whole pew.
Do I tell her? Do I dare? I am a mere child. What would people think?
How would I say it?
Excuse me, Miss Peaworthy, but you have puke in your hair?
Did someone regurgitate on you?
I am five.
I don’t even know that word yet.
I stare at her hair throughout service.
Laughing a little bit.
My mother tries to shush me with the look.
It does not work. She puts her hand over my giggling mouth.
Christians being fed to lions is apparently not funny.
The minister stares at me. I wink. He loses his place.
Church. My favorite place.
No telling what is coming around the corner.
Wakey, wakey, shakey, shakey, earth is quakey, quicky, quicky, git up head down feet up turn round, then do the hokey pokey and you turn yourself around, then turn your inside out -- Far Out!
Shakey, shakey, wakey, wakey, bakey, bakey, shake and bakey. Lakey lady lava cover, spilling over pithy pity.
Lady lava Lava Lady is Liquid Dating, with backyard barbeques getting her dance card filled up down at the Jam Bury your town hold down slow glow from no-town favorites, Let Us Nights end in pits, singing "On and On." See her glowing revues.
Come 'on 'ear duh noize, gurlz rock' 'em boize, make sure you use the real McCoys, oh, whoa, yeah, yeah--NOIZE!
You know they come in threes, you can feel it in the breeze, you see coconut fall off the trees, oh, whoa, yeah, yeah.
Quakey wakey mighty tidy, surf you jerks, the waves are crazy, topsy turvy--move away curvey. Itsy-bitsy-teeny-weeny-bikini'--OOPS (pass your bedtime)
Prancing through the house naked as a jaybird
was a spider with such a provocative hour-glass body
I thought she needed clothing. Maybe an itsy bitsy bikini?
Pajamas? An evening gown with a cloak?
I was never able to properly fit her, for she moved
Stealthily and quickly, slipping in and out of crevices
Sixteen times smaller than her body.
She disappears more easily than the dog does.
And she does not snore as loudly, so she is not easily found.
The only proof I have that she existed at all
is a raised bubbled up spider bite mark on my left wrist.
It is almost perfectly round; another talent of hers that I admire.
The next time a sexy spider comes to call, I have a closet of clothes for her.
I had saved a teensy itsy bitsy tiny piece of myself
To show off to those superior, smart, artistic kids at school.
I was planning to wow them with my creative prowess,
When they heard my piece, they would really and truly drool.
The formerly hidden, sweetest part of myself was almost ready to share,
But I was so cowed by the vibrant, dramatic story of another.
I could not bring out my piece, so I hid her way back in there.
I nurtured her all day long, and took her home to express to my mother.
Mommy was on the phone, and nodded for me to play,
So I took my little piece, and we scuttled far away.
I placed her way back down hard inside my heart, with gentle tears.
There she stayed hidden until I discovered art, for many, many years.