Long Mush Poems
Long Mush Poems. Below are the most popular long Mush by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mush poems by poem length and keyword.
Final crumbs of a Saturday repast,
We knew it wouldn't last!
Licked all the bowls,
Mom began to scold.
We tried to walk away,
With the food we squirreled away!
For her to find under a pile of dirty clothes,
Or hidden neath the bed,
Boy, did she hold her nose instead!
So catching us,
Before the saved food turned to mush,
Was much better for us!
Prevented her from playing the nose hunt game,
Washing all the clothes just isn't the same!
By then we had left for the day,
Headed out to play!
Snorting in exasperation,
She sprayed air cleaner,
And rubbed her hands with lotion.
See Saturday's repast,
Had long passed!
ON TENDING THE GREAT ANCESTRAL FIRES
Here lies the residue
Of an old fire
Long gone
Dry—Ashes
Left to the whelms
Of raindrops to dampen
Into a useless mush—
Or for the wind to blow
Aimlessly to nowhere;
Wet and immobile
Or blowing dry in the wind,
Useless are cold ashes.
Here, scattered among the warm ashes,
Lay hot remnants of a once great fire
Gone untended—abandoned as.
Often, tenders of great fires are released
From their duties by the thirst of death;
Others are just scared away.
Be whichever it may, great fires
Cocoon themselves in charcoal hued embers.
Charcoal hued embers—steamers of raindrops
And lovers of re-birthing winds of ignition.
Come chilled children;
Movements are like unsettled ashes
Of social interchange; revolution,
Like volcanic embers of transformation.
Come cocooned children;
Let us gather and stoke volcanic embers
That we may metamorphose in the presence
Of the Great Fire spirit of our ancestors—
Least we devolve into the staled mush of ashes.
Been mistaken for Santa Claus
More than one time over the years
Could be my big fat rolly belly
Or my beard from ear to ear
It's kind of cool when a little kiddie
Comes up to me and tells me this
"Once I saw you last Christmas Day
And you gave my mommie a kiss!"
Kids always say such funny things
Some of them can make you blush
A little guy told me I was really fat
Must eat a big bunch of mush
Wouldn't think of shaving my beard
Or losing a big bunch of pounds
Cause then I'd miss these little kiddies
And their amazing ability to astound
Before I end this long dissertation
There's one thing I really must extol
Don't ever lose the tiny person
That's living within your soul
©Jack Ellison 2012
With a backpack on her back she waves me goodbye
as my heartstrings pull tight I smile, but I don't cry
My little girl is starting school day, with a gleam in her eye
she says " momma I'm ready" is the bus here yet ?
The house sits empty and the only sound is the sound of my kettle.
I try to recall a day without her but I can't,
she's been glued to my soul, since the day she was born
"Its only kindergarten" I say as a way to ease my mind
but I know my heart feels like mush today, " I need to be kind"
I go to her room and straighten out her bed
and by the amount of crumbs on her bear, I know he's been fed
"She'll be back soon enough" I say to myself,
Its every mother's hope, that her daughter stays safe everyday
I used to thank God each time the front door opened
and a little voice said, " Mommy, I'm home!"
With a backpack on her back she waves me goodbye,
and I know I'm going to miss her, I can't lie.
Halloween is like a spleen.
Busted up, hurts, and patches.
Then I saw worms splashing around.
The stardust glazed over.
Halloween is a fog-monster.
Just eats stuff like a blast of cool air.
Groaning cauldron.
Enough mess to carry me away.
Halloween gobbles me up like something that spins.
Or has pins and needles that are invisible.
The stardust makes me do it.
And the mush halts me.
Halloween is like a molding miracle.
Halloween hats and grimacing.
Nothing between the grates.
Just me and a sewer somewhere.
Halloween snatches me up like a garbage truck.
Halloween is like organs and mush together.
Halloween is a bone on top of a mountain.
Halloween has a lot to say!
I gave up all of my inhibitions.
Sat in the cauldron with nothing else inside.
Expected something-
Unsettling.
“Uncle Celery, Uncle Celery, is chopping all those veggies,”
my impish nieces and nephew who copycat my voice,
and other hand gestures or mannerisms known to me and others,
how they used to ape that voice of mine with their American twang,
“Celery, do you love us for real, will you be our teacher when we’re grown,”
I, Howard, replied that it would be a delightful honour,
“Celery, are you having a fun time with us at all,”
I answered; “every day is a fun day when we’re together,”
one relative blushed: “never mind the mushy stuff, never mind the mush,
It’s not so you’re never, ever going to meet us again.”
Day one of our first conversation
My mind in mentation
Of your flirtation
Your pupils in dilation
Day fifty your smile
Has my heart racing miles
You were beguile
I hope my number you dial
Day seventy two your blush
Made my heart rush
You spout sentimental mush
My heartbreaking crush
Day ninety nine my heart cries
My eyes set for the prize
To tell the words that make me die
No longer able to hide behind lies
Day one hundred my confession
My heart crushed like compression
Passing by his transgression
You not my possession
Day one hundred and ninety four
My heart still broke forevermore
My pieces I cannot restore
Forever stuck in love's war
The gods are returning home again
Home again, home again,
Into the waters of these playful streams
Into the cascades of falling stars
Into the foaming glitter over lost dreams.
The gods are returning home again
Into the un-peace of this possible place
Dancing on the doorsteps of a neighbouring universe
Collecting flocks they gather grace
At the scum sketched shore.
The gods are returning home again
The pounding of their feet is heard once more
On the husks of the clouds above the gardens
In these watercoloured hills.
The gods are returning home again
Thumping, thumping, home again
Over the mush fields of mindless country men,
The gods are coming home again, my dear
The gods are coming home again I hear.
Such pipedream regarding
winning bucket loads of cash,
would make monetary woes
in an instantaneous flash
mine dentures no longer
will futilely grind and gnash,
cuz I would undergo oral surgery
and simultaneously acquire
mush sought after gumption,
where dental implants
could offer million dollar smile
mastication boring full force
while I monstrously, yet easily mash
the most unpalatable pop slop
made with tender loving care
courtesy the missus.
Selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors
play key role to alleviate paroxysms
debilitating bouts of anxiety and panic attacks
wracked these lovely bones
during their roaring twenties
severely impinging potential to relish
joys and sorrows present within mein kampf
vast stretches of life sabotaged
courtesy mental health challenges,
thus I acknowledge miracle of modern medicine
particularly prescription medication
(iterated within first line of this verse),
which allows, enables and provides
blessed escape illness noggin tortured.
Feeling kinda cruddy, yup, that's the word
Too many fries, too many burgs
When will I learn I can't handle that stuff
Stomach rebels, starts causing a fuss
Once could eat nails and all kinds of gunk
Now I eat mush and ground up junk
My teeth are all gone, can't chew anymore
Things go down whole, my tummy gets sore
So such is the life of this senior type dude
Head for the washroom, each time I eat food
Food disappears like famous greased lightning
Or I sit there for hours, really quite frightening
Irregularity's my name, I'm Irreg for short
Hope an operation, I don't have to resort
An artificial esophagus transplanted in me
So I can go regular like it once used to be
Oh for the days when I could eat all that junk
Those days are gone, who woulda thunk
That one day I'd be eating my morning cereal
Laced with Metamucil or some such material!
© Jack Ellison 2012