Long Latrine Poems
Long Latrine Poems. Below are the most popular long Latrine by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Latrine poems by poem length and keyword.
Bi-polar bear’s crafty and mean
So snooty she acts like a queen
She’s cold and aloof
Of that I have proof
And was last seen on the latrine
Bi-polar bear peed on the ice
Bright yellow ice didn’t look nice
To cover her tracks
She grabbed her ice axe
Her chopping was not quite precise
Bi-polar bear made a huge hole
And into the hole she did roll
A male saboteur
Did not rescue her
He battered her head with a pole!
Bi-polar bear could not be found
It’s thought that Bi- polar bear drowned
I’d love to raise a huge glass
To whoever kicked her ass
Sadly he did not hang around
NOT for Contest
Follow up to a poem written with Lin Lane in May 2017
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/bi_polar_bear_collaboration_with_lin_lane_901528
11-07-17
In the padded cell of my confinement I think and feel and slide
Down a slope of reason and emotion dressed in gloves and mask
I am rebel but in times of these I learnt to follow orders and abide
Though staying sane other than my normal lunacy remains a task
I am a rubber ball in stagnant motion bouncing back inside four walls
A ricochet master in training who gathers speed in pinball fashion
Take out my slingshot and ponder where when and if the rebound falls
No prisoner restrained by mental shackles and full of uninhibited passion
Immured and isolated as an island's rock I gather humility and gratitude
Because I happen to have the privilege of a home to be locked up in
Play with marbles in my mind sorting memories that have been skewed
Throw socks and knickers from my afar bed straight into the laundry bin
Boredom is just another word for lacking ingenuous fantasy or inspiration
The price of segregation and detachment is very small if one has shelter
With fire place and running water well beyond most people's expectation
When the so called global village is euphemistic for chaotic helter-skelter
Playing darts the arrow of injustice flies straight into a bull's eye's scream
The chess board that revives my tedium contains a set of weary pawns
But I am fortunate to be locked down or up together with my Fairy Queen
My lover soul mate best friend ever who shares my moods from dusk to dawn
How could I dare to complain about my situation of comfort in such quarantine
It's easy to dust the shelves when reading every book before you put it back
Not to mention rather tongue in cheek that I have loo rolls and my own latrine
All I have to do is stay at home and write my poems during the virus' attack
Duress of incarceration with washed hands and coughs into a healthy elbow
But cubital hygiene so to speak will not affect my articulation for any length
I promise sincerely that my words will not be sanitized as I condense my flow
Times could be better but rising to a challenge concentrates one's real strength
02nd March 2020
Quarantine Poetry Contest
Sponsor Julie Leigh Rodeheaver
LADIES AND GENTS, hear this that I may increase your leisure benefits!
All who have labored for cleanliness, for a spic and span to savor,
please allow me now to do you the most ginormous of favors …
Sweep, vacuum, scrub, dust, mop … have those acts ever pissed
you off? Cleaning is tough, especially rough because results don’t
last long enough. I see from your faces, you know what I mean -
allow me to paint a scene: Your kitchen floor has not one
speck, not a smudge or spot nub to detect, and it is, oh, so sweet
walking that floor in your bare feet - - -SUDDENLY A DUTY
is stuck to your foot, some wretched crumb of vagrant soot,
a speck intruder you would gladly, madly shoot!
Well, lean in close for I can transpose the major bummer of gross
into … REWARDING, FULFILLING, LONG-LASTING DOMESTIC
PROSE!!
This can, this light weight can and its sprayed, domestic changing
dose keeps rooms as pristine as when newly, fully cleaned, YES,
from den to latrine to hall, it guards clean in all, even door frames
and walls!! Just spray, walk away, and this anti-dirt, clean hold vaccine,
THIS spray, right here, in my hand will, I vow, grant you a whopping
wow; allow this month-long guard warrior to protect your clean, EVEN
toilet bowls will maintain their sheen, EVEN toothpaste spit in haste –
just forget it because this spray, available this day with many ways to
pay, won’t quit it!
Just $9 a can, NO $.99 that results in 99% of us feeling a brain insult.
There was an elusive little guy often espied during World War Two,
And who he was and whence he came no one ever really knew!
He was a bald headed little feller with a very prominent nose,
And he always left the message "Kilroy Was Here" in very stilted prose!
You seldom saw his eyes and his hands were clinging to a wall.
Many G.I.s saw him in latrine stalls and in their greasy dining hall!
His origin and parting message are debated to this very day,
And no one has ever nabbed the graffiti artists who always slunk away!
He was portrayed in cruisers, battleships and even on submarines!
Kilroy's portrait was tattooed on the chests of a few diehard Marines!
'Tis said Hitler saw "Kilroy Was Here" and wondered what it meant,
Thinking it a secret code when found on American accouterment!
Kilroy became as famous as the mysterious smile on the Mona Lisa.
(I even saw his mug when I climbed to the top of the Tower of Pisa!)
Rosie the Riveter may have been guilty, if the truth were told,
Of tracing Kilroy's image on bombers, including the bomb bay hold!
Well, 'tis for sure we couldn't have won the war without the little guy!
Kilroy's antics lifted morale at home and overseas, that you can't deny!
But you haven't seen the last of him, for he is forever etched in history,
On the World War Two Monument in DC - how he got there is a mystery!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
For those a tad younger who may have never heard of Kilroy, go to your search
and type in "Kilroy Was Here" and click the Wikipedia notation and you will learn
more than you ever wanted to know about him!
Cascading waves of azure wash ashore
while cerulean curls color the sky;
subservient to time and nothing more.
The Sea absorbs a zillion drops of rain,
from a melody of showers and storms;
a dominatrix of pleasure and pain.
From indigo shades to aquamarine
She is the heart and lungs of our planet,
but, we have turned Her into a latrine.
Sullied by centuries of pollution;
Her shores are littered, no longer pristine;
for we lack a practical solution.
Our once-thriving, living Sea is dying,
placing the whole world in grievous danger:
till one can almost hear Nature crying.
Son, you haven't really experienced life,
(And it will surely make you pine for a wife!),
Until you are thrust into noisy open-bay coops,
With fifty other snorting and snoring troops!
The sergeants demand that things be just right.
Bunks must be made with blankets smooth and tight!
Clothes must be hung straight and boots shined to a glow,
And all your shoes lined under your bunk in a row!
As the bugle at early dawn is blown,
Fifty guys rush to the latrine as if chased by a cyclone,
All vying at once for a place at the sink,
Because the line gets long as quick as a wink!
You're invited to a GI party on Friday nights without miss,
But this is no occasion for a cool beer and socializing, this!
On hands and knees with a GI brush in hand,
You'll be scrubbing and waxing until the floor is grand!
Saturday you'll stand by your bunk for a white-glove inspection,
The eagle-eyed captain checking everything demanding perfection!
If dust he discovers you'll receive reams and reams of demerits!
Forget the weekend pass - you'll be on KP peeling taters and carrots!
Some call it an interruption
I see it as a great opportunity
Some call it a dumb question
I see that it masks a brilliant inquiry
Some call it a discipline problem
I see a butterfly emerging from its cocoon
Some call my classroom boring
I see and say it's so boring it's ridiculous
I have better things to do with my time, and with their time
Than to force these young mind into artificial environments of dull
Here's to mandatory nature walks, tent-pitching, berry-picking
Latrine digging, campfires, marshmallow roasts and ghost stories
And not to neglect timepiece, transistor radio, long-nose rifle
electrical circuit, and motor assembly and disassembly--and woodworking*
Now we're talking Education
Now we're talking Creation, Imagination
*So much I left out, including: Cooking, Painting, Fashion Design, Architecture,
Basic Engineering,... Let us do what we can; the kids'll do the rest! ~ gw
I traveled to a land I always wanted to see.
I was on the slopes of Vesuvius in Italy.
Here I was among ancient ruins alone.
There was something strange carved on this wall of stone.
I called the tour guide to come over right away.
“I do not read Latin, so what does it say?
This looks like a poem on a wall here in Pompeii.
What did this person write on that fateful day?
Whoever this individual was, he or she was alone.
They had nothing better to do but to inscribe on the stone.”
Lena and I were now apart from the crowd.
When she read the inscription, she laughed aloud.
“We are among the remains of an excavated latrine.
What you see is graffiti that is rather obscene.
This writing is about a boy describing his girlfriend.
She had very big **** and a fat rear end.
Perhaps the gods were angry from this episode.
That is what may have made the mountain explode”
Febrile Fog obfuscates palimpsest varnished promises..
Naysayers hoodwinked... deluded players peeling layers..denuded..
Deafening din of our chagrin...
Espoused by rabbles roused by mandarins’ sins..
Tarnished...pampered pilferers pickpocketing public purses...
Deploring the warring cacophony of citizens curses..
Ignoring the boring nagging nadir of nurses...
Corporate castles built without stilts on hourglass sands..
Placards versus lanyards..
Culprits preach parsimony from privileged pulpits..
Civic critics.. protests...pyrrhric..?
No tut tuts..relax…gluts of tax cuts for property sluts..
Licentious larcenists..lust for boom then bust..
Lavishly lacing our lives with lies..
Yet the more we holler...hanker..
Murky truths get darker...muckier.. starker..danker..
Avaricious arsonists torching our cries of why...
Leave us lolloping in a regret & forget.. leaking latrine...
Reeking of what could & should have been..
It wasn't all that long ago when a hole in the ground was where people would go.
Many grew sick from lack of hygiene so some one invented the pit latrine.
This greatly prevented the spread of disease. People squatted over a slab
and bent at the knees.
The first flushable was used by British royalty, a toilet that the commoner
would never see.
Chamber pots and out houses were used by many.
They composted the waste and saved a lot of pennies.
Years later dry toilets were used in most homes.
They had a wooden seat as their throne.
Some time during the twentieth century flushable toilets were
in every home you would see.
Tout allure and hello to a cleaner way.
A clever French man invented the bidet.
Is this too much information? Don't go yet.
The end of my evolution of the toilet.