Long Lily pad Poems
Long Lily pad Poems. Below are the most popular long Lily pad by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lily pad poems by poem length and keyword.
I wake to a monochrome world and I yawn
The reds, greens and yellows awaiting the dawn
Out on the water, my luminous float
Rides unseen ripples in fear of no boat
This morning my roof is my fishing umbrella
A night with my thoughts means I’ve something to tell her
I guess what I mean is I’ve something to ask
I practice the words as I reach for my flask
My thermos sits tempting with vegetable soup
It’s contents have settled to vegetable gloop
Was that a laugh in the form of a squark
As I eat my soup with a very long fork
With no other human for miles around
No unsought opinions that seek to confound
No ear-ache from experts intent to be heard
How welcome the chirps of the earliest bird
The scrabbles and scurries of night’s muted audio
Bow to the quacks of a new day’s first rodeo
The moon doffs its cap to a newly ris sun
My float dips a little… I’m ready for fun
I strike as my float disappears underwater
I think of my girl and I wish I had brought her
Forsaking her bed was too much of a wrench
But she’d have been thrilled at the sight of a tench
My rod tip bends into its repeated thumps
I steer it away from those lily pad clumps
Nuclear war now… a minor mishap
I now live in fear of a single sound, SNAP!
But I turn its head and I draw the fish near
Oh how I wish that my baby was here
She’d call it God’s prettiest creation yet
As the red eyed, green beauty slides into my net
Shame it was not on my new rod as hoped
I’d broken that rod but my old one had coped
Admiring the beauty, my subconscious said
Admire the beauty at home in your bed
I unhooked that Tench and released it at once
I’m thrilled with the one but one more would be bunce
An early morn chill and this fisherman muddles
Should I not be home having kisses and cuddles
I so love to fish and the girl of my dreams
Never complains, there’s no rants and no screams
So now I've decided, I’ve made up my mind
A more understanding girl I’ll never find
I fumbled my phone so I took off a glove
This question to ask of the woman I love
My fishing rod that was a gift from your mother
I broke it, I said, could she buy me another?
Troll Lake was slowly filling, after the dam and bridge were finally built.
But, it was close to the city, and kids were coming nightly, without relent!
Bad things were going to happen, if we didn’t stop those, partying fools.
The Trolls scared most away, but the wilder ones returned, definitely not cool!
With all the fun and hardy partying, they weren’t even close, or ready to resign.
Then our actor Trolls came home, with the paparazzi tagging along, behind.
They kept lurking around bushes, and we smelled disaster, coming really soon.
So we put up a sign, ‘No Trespassing! Danger! Creature From The Black Lagoon!’
They all laughed hilariously, not believing it could remotely, be possibly true.
So we had to devise a plan, to scare them off, that’d added a wallop, to the boo!
Now, as the lake had filled we’d found we’d acquired a Monk Frog, on a lily pad.
He helped us with meditation, yoga lessons, and advise… that was totally rad.
He told us of his Gold Fish friend, who thinks he’s a shark and would happily fight.
But to all those skinny-dippers, his nibbles had been like, the bark without the bite.
So we borrowed Grandma Trolls’ Large false teeth, adding more bite to his delight.
Someone got bit, as a Troll jumped up, snarled, and lunged after the kids in the night.
This made the kids scramble wildly for their lives and to protect their manly parts.
They say, they ran all the way home, still naked, till they hit their own front doors.
The Police found them to book them, for trespassing, and basically running amuck.
The paparazzi, got it all on tape, selling it to the newscasters, so all were in luck.
The film of the creatures’ outline coming out of the water, made it more profound.
And rumors ran like wild fire, to not swim in our mysterious lake, so spellbound.
Even the paparazzi, backed off, wondering what other dangers, might be around.
It’s amazing how great we could be, when we get together, and our ideas abound.
PS. A happy, little shark patrolled the lake... nightly, from then on…
Warmly dedicated to SMJ
Three Sonnets Inspired by my
Reigning Ex
Part 0
Sitting at the edge of the universe
like a man atop a modern skyscraper
who might look down to see the manic street
full of yellow taxis and distant peers,
the first thing I notice on a backwards
glance is my snake-skin mortality
shed and skipping across the flattened ether,
a luminous orb on a linear course
like a puddle-hopping pebble, eager
to sink a lily-pad a child targets
for the hell of it. I realize then - either
I’m dead as a god should be, or just a pet
project of a German ghost, his meager
objective merely my way to forget.
Part I
Before you bed me, I assume the herpes
risk you ignored so many turn-style clicks
so many thick-like quick-strike Rolodex entries
not so long ago made that cavalry slicks
and right-swept Tinder mounts dutifully
saddled have begun their bountiful itch.
A testament, truly, of how beautifully
done was every each one, each surgical stitch
precisely sewn to salvage squeeze-box juice
of battle-field strewn, the red zest of life
a dead soldier blew, is once more, for you,
stalling to flow; knowing your rusty knife
has yet to slice temptation sterilized;
knowing your scalpel’s cut keeps cancer canonized.
Part II
All around you, this kelp-wall compartment
appears an ocean bloomed with room enough
for early light to shuffle halfway bent,
like time’s unpolished hedge, across the rough
field where too young have men gone to die.
Someone is responsible for all of it:
The ghostlike fish who grimly swim upstream;
the crunchy autumn leaves all creased and clustered;
and this, the box you loathe in sleepless dream
of birthday cakes and candles your grandfather
fed the wish-away lawn using mustered
strength from tears his daughter leaked, sprung to lie,
who now only cries at her daughter’s grave,
complaining of stubble when Pawpaw shaves.
Maurice the frog was q###r; of this he had no doubt and all the lady frogs just made him yawn.
He sat all day on his lily pad, flicking his tongue at passing flies, with never a thought of ever wanting to spawn.
At night the pond was redolent with the sound of humping frogs, the 'revitting' would turn a young frog mad.
But, alas, poor Maurice's only joy was a male frog's fashion catalogue, bequeathed to him by his late, lamented dad.
And so he spent his idle hours with nary a care or frown, plodding along his solitary road.
Until the day in early spring his life turned upside down, on discovering he was, in fact, a toad.
This news, to him was quite a shock from a passing dragonfly, which alighted on a nearby flower frond.
‘You want to cross the road’, it said, ‘there's loads of toads like you having toady fun in their own toady pond’.
And from under his wing he produced a book, ‘Toads Only’, it said on the cover, Maurice turned to its centre pages eyes agog.
And there in Technicolor for all the world to see was a lady toad, spread-eagled on a log.
He was well and truly smitten as on her picture he did gaze, her bulging eyes as black as Yorkshire coal.
He thought about eating the dragonfly but quickly went off this, who needs fly when you can have toad in the hole.
So Maurice set off straight away, though the going was quite tough, the first leg almost gave him a heart attack.
But on the crest of the rise he could see the road and the toady pond beyond and was greeted by a passing Natterjack.
The uphill struggle behind him now his back legs found new spring, the going was much easier on the flat.
He thought of all the lady toads and the tadpoles they would have, another hop, another leap then - SPLAT!
The moral of this sorry tale is simple, short and sweet; the fairer sex will only make you cry.
Be happy in your own back yard, forget the frog and toad and next time - eat the dragonfly!
~
She chased a pretty butterfly,
the field a minty green
With Salvia and Baby's Breath,
a watercolor scene
As fast as her two feet could run,
she touched its silken wing,
so vivid, a kaleidoscope,
a stained-glass kind of thing
When suddenly the grasses swayed,
she felt herself ascend
Then laughed as every tree below
began to twist and bend
It seemed that something magical
had happened 'fore her eye
She sprouted wings, the silken kind,
she was a butterfly
She fluttered to a hyacinth
it's nectar sweet and tart
and then she found a brand new rose,
the perfect place to start
Her new wings took her everywhere,
from up to down below
Way over there to over here,
each way the wind did blow
She saw a stream meandering
and ripples from above
They held a special meaning
and were something she did love
Beside her flew a flock of geese,
they formed a perfect vee
Now headed back to someplace warm
in springtime harmony
She flitted near a dragonfly
that hovered very still
Above an emerald lily pad,
it gave her quite a thrill
A blue bird said, "good morning"
as it landed in a tree
A squirrel grabbed an acorn
as it waved so happily
When suddenly a gust of wind,
so fierce it made her fall
She fell and fell until she heard,
her mother's quiet call
"Come on, wake up, you sleepyhead,
the sun is shining bright".
She rubbed her eyes, now so relieved
her mom, a wondrous sight
She said, "I had the nicest dream,
I floated in the air
Across the field, the garden too,
I've got so much to share"
Its then she sat up rapidly,
a smile on her face
"I think I better hurry 'cause,
theres butterflies to chase"
~
Come on Soupers, let's go chase some butterflies!
A frog went on a day trip to a pond just down the road, where he met up with his friend, Ribbity the Toad.
They found their favourite lily pad and hopped up side by side and called the taxi fish to hail them for a ride.
They went right in to the middle to where tadpoles sold ice-cream and newts were selling tickets for a concert at the stream.
Toad had had too much dessert and felt a little icky. Frog had dripped it down his front and made himself quite sticky.
They hopped in to the water to swim and cool off a bit, then climbed out on to the bank to find somewhere to sit.
They talked about the weather and the kids were doing at school and the latest people living at the Grand Lakeside Hall.
Frog had brought a picnic of barbeque flavoured slugs and they bought fresh maggots with honey coated bugs.
They shared a bottle of pond weed wine and some chocolate and fly cake, which Mrs. Toad that very morning, had kindly said she’d make.
They said that they’d buy tickets to the comedy show tonight and asked directions to the booth; straight down and then turn right.
The pair sat and laughed their way through a very funny man who told them that his name was Frogosauras Stan.
He did dinosaur impressions, which is hard in summer heat. Frog and toad both laughed so hard that toad fell off his seat.
When Frogosauras Stan took his final bow, Toad and Frog decided it was time to go home now.
They went back to the pond and hailed the taxi crew and the fish moved so fast across the water that the lily pad nearly flew!
Once Frog and Toad were safely back upon the bank the other side, they shook each others hands and said their goodbyes.
Frog enjoyed his day trip to the pond just down the road and he really enjoyed seeing his friend Mr Toad.
Form:
Yellow Butterflyfish and Snakeskin Discus
swim freely in this life I call an aquarium-
I see a Purple Regal Tang as the Pufferfish
sang with a melody like a sweet guitar strum.
Blue and pink coral, like a make-believe floral
stand strong and tall in the salt-watered tank-
The lemon green Laurel streams along so eternal
as the Orange Angelfish swim along the bank.
A Red-Tailed Crab and a slimy Snail like to grab
food sprinkled from the main aquarium caretaker-
Instead of eating scraps they find a lily pad
to rest and continue being nosey spectators.
Is this just a dream? Is my life not as it seems?
Cuz’ when I look around along the ground
my human reflection is all I unbelievably see-
This life that I have found, I just sit here profound
gazing at the amazing life of salt water beauty.
Oh no! I see a Reef Shark and I start to embark
on my way towards the side of the glass-
I find relief in the belief that he may depart
since he comes from a breed of a docile class.
Rainbow Sea Stars you can see from afar
with hues like a pink and yellow sunset-
What a lovely sight! I can’t forget the spark
of her glowing romantic shaded silhouette.
A Painted Turtle guy who caught my fascination
wandering in front of me slower than a snail-
A super fertile Ray lays her eggs with illumination
as the Foxface Rabbitfish flips her yellow tail.
Living in a tank of salt is obviously my true calling,
even though I always wanted to be a veterinarian-
My true wish is to live with fish,
for in water there is no falling-
Floating, swimming, kicking with a swish,
I love my life in a beautiful aquarium.
Theme: Life In An Aquarium
February 15, 2017
There once was a frog who wanted to wear shoes
out of the swamp he left and off to a cobbler's shop
with no time to lose. The grasshoppers and crickets
at him they did laugh, for why would a frog need shoes?
He sits in water on the top of a lily pad.
The frog kept hopping to the Cobbler as fast as he could
for he knows what he wants, shoes made of wood. These
rocks and stickers my feet they do hurt and with shoes
I can move cooler in the hot dirt. To the Cobbler's shop he
came and the sign said Closed and it began to rain.
Oh my feet, the frog did say, I'll have wait until the next
opening day.
Under the porch he slept that night and when morning came
he was filled with such delight. The door said open but how
would he get inside and then came a child who reached down
and grabbed him, and carried him in with pride.
Upon the counter he placed his frog and the ole Cobbler looked
and seen him and said he belongs at the pond. Oh please! the
frog exclaimed, I need some shoes for my feet, surely you can
understand me, some shoes would be so neat.
The Cobbler was met with such surprise when he understood
what the frog was saying by reading the look in his eyes.
Some shoes for you, my dear frog friend but no one will believe
me down at the Ole Inn.
A pair of clogs was placed upon him and the frog danced a dittle
at the Ole Inn, to pay back the Cobbler for being so sweet and so
that everyone, the old Cobbler they could believe, that a frog wore
shoes upon his feet. So if ever down by the creek and you see a frog
with wooden shoes upon his feet; Just laugh like the Cobbler, so full of life
a frog in clogs, Oh! what a site.
I have a big, old froggie that lives in my ornate lily pond, so refined.
And every time I have a guest, he Farts and spurts water from his behind.
My son has named him bubbles and tells everyone, how he is so fine...
Now, you must know he’s only five with potty humor on his mind…
It started as I included my son, while finding a fountain for my pond.
But he came home and told his dad, who now also had to come along.
While I kept looking for a fountain, you know… with exquisite flair.
My son kept asking me for a special one, that farts water out his tail.
Now, as I watched my two beloved gentlemen, I knew something was afoot.
I found retreat a better thing, as I high tailed it away, with a serious hotfoot.
Sure enough, my birthday present turned out to be that froggie for my pond.
And I certainly couldn’t hurt my son’s feelings by saying no, to respond.
My hubby laughed as he pointed out a place, they had agreed it should go.
Yes, you guessed, it’s the first thing you see, that your eyes can bestow.
Perhaps my plight is really not so bad… or at least, my hubby now tells me so.
Even though the guests’ eyes grow big, and their walk becomes really slow.
As I see their looks, a better conversation piece could never have ever been.
As I gently explain my son’s love for me, is touching, don’t you think? Again.
Of course the little froggie keeps farting and wildly smiling, throughout it all.
But the smiles are never near as big, as my guests’ smiles… that suddenly grow…
As they become enchanted with the understanding of it all.
I met Mary Oliver the other day,
next to Starbucks in that store
where softcovers surely number
well into the mid-to-high six digits.
Ours was a chance encounter,
as neither of us would travel in
any of the same circles and my
disparate world is far from hers.
There was no particular reason
why I should pause on my worn path
to Real Estate, the Journal
tucked too close to my heart.
or why her poems, selected
me to stop and stray, but
life seems capricious that way
or in this case, perhaps just
proof of a merciful God
who knew I had forgotten
the frog’s slide off a lily pad
and the quiet undulating ripple
his first stroke made that day
near a content summer bank
of my parents’ old mill pond
or that 12-year old’s simple joy
under a clear crystalline night
setting up his new telescope and
peering into the splendor of heaven,
all that lost time not knowing
or frankly even caring, exactly
how many light years exist
between us and Sirius.
And as I slowly turned her pages
she loaned me her prism to see
anew wild geese and goldenrod,
egrets and forgotten war heroes and
the truth of holding on and letting go,
when deep down this delightful tingle
fluttered up quite unexpectedly
before the corners of my mouth
turned up in a smile I could not stop
Someday, I’d like to meet Ms. Oliver
to thank her for so many generous gifts.
In the meantime, I will very carefully,
but probably clumsily, untie the ribbons
of each precious gift not wanting
to be certain of its contents too soon.