Long Nozzle Poems

Long Nozzle Poems. Below are the most popular long Nozzle by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nozzle poems by poem length and keyword.


Noisy Cat

You have the hysterical look of mutes
that roar through narrow straws.
I see in your yellow eyes – a Jules Verne winking moon.
Soon that ribbed pink cave will release
another flock of demented coots
hacked from the craw of an ancient macaw.

Soon the whip of your vocal squawks
will pluck my eyes from their trembling stalks.
Maine Coon, part Persian, part whiskery herring,
grimalkin mouser,
I love you not when you sing.

Verne goes to the movies, a flickering French theater
of painted malarkey, where mice threaten to Can-Can.
Buck Rodgers shoots rays of hyperbolic sound
from the open nozzle of your mouth.


Water Play

Water play.
Water play.
How do we play
By running and jumping through the water 
Sprinkler as it goes around 
While sitting on the ground.

Water play.
Water play 
How do we play?
In the water hose with a nozzle that 
Changes from a fine mist to a bold spray
That lands on our toes in a funny sort of way.

Water play.
Water play.
How do we play
On a slip and slide.
Oh! What a ride
On a piece of plastic through the grass we glide.

Water play.
Water Play.
How do we play
By getting wet with our squirt gun.
After which we dry in the sun.

Water play.
Water play.
How do we play?
There are so many ways.
Drop by on any given day.
You can join in the water fun and play.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Zapfhahn

Der Zapfhahn has several meanings in the German language:
The Spigot, The Nozzle, The Tap, The Faucet, The Hose.

Without its definite article, the noun “Zapfhahn” is also the name
of a local pub in a small historic German town with discernible
vestiges of the Roman Empire near Braunschweig.

My earliest experience in this rather colorful establishment dates 
back to 1990 during the period of the German reunification.

Zapfhahn is the place to go to imbibe alcohol of all variations,
and to have intellectual discussions (sometimes),
and to dodge errant beer bottles speeding through the air (occasionally),
and to sing songs (mostly in German) apropos to the crowd gathered.

Zapfhahn is the place to go to solve the problems of the world
or at least attempt to do this fruitless adventure.

Zapfhahn, with its medium and influence of alcohol, 
is the place to: 
adjust your attitude,
fall in love,
fall out of love,
get drunk,
find redemption (depending on your religion),
or just have a good time.

With fun had by all,
and with the night quite late,
I cannot wait to so indulge myself again.

And so, Zapfhahn with your mythic and alchemic 
connections to the spirits of the night,
I surrender my soul in due course
so that I might see it resurrected 
in its splendid glory.

I can only pray
and hope so.


Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany
(August 29, 2014)

Premium Member Facade of Content

The façade of content that you see
Disguises a brewing pot of misery
Hidden deep inside his empty soul
Devoid of passion that life has stole

Making love only to his left hand
While she sleeps beside another man
The pale, impression from a wedding band
Discarded inside the bed nightstand

Seeing his children just once a week
A source of advice they no longer seek
The prospects for improvement look rather bleak
Alimony slaps him on the other cheek

He has felt the noose around his neck
But hasn’t stepped off of the chair, yet
He has tasted the nozzle of his gun
But has kept the safety latch turned on

The façade of content that you see
Keeps his life of pain a mystery
If that façade ever comes crumbling down
You better pack your bags and get out of town
© Joe Flach  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Wems Henry Temmy Psalm 75


I cannot remember the exact day
Though it wasn't that long ago to note 
When I get home to tighten up my say
Like I wouldn't have said that rote 
But I haven't been able to change it
Slippery airstream brings it without permit

Teach my tongue 
Not always the usual song 
When unseen is not able 
Let hearty praises be stable 

Story may not win hearts 
Words are very core to arts 
What inspirations sought 
Define what minds fought 
But often, muses are ÀBÍKÚ
Though words remain àìkú

Teach my words ever young 
To never be old unsung 
When light heals quickly, time
Let darkness dare its worth to the prime

Hero don't just fight 
To show his might 
But for a dream
Beyond self-esteem
To redeem his call
Even it takes him to fall

Teach my nozzle
Firing and causal 
To view in smell
The aroma heaven shell 

A newborn; I a newborn
Everyday's cool wordsbourne 
Whose stories are often reared 
In blissful nature's style sneered 
For body to feed into mind for soul
Allowing new character be made whole 

Teach me to use 
Not only to deduce
By tongue to also pronounce
And authoritatively do denounce
Form: Rhyme


The Perfumed Fantasy

Last night I tried my new perfume spray
With my own fingers I squeezed the nozzle,
Instead of the fine mist of perfume, a thin ray
Came out of it; and asked me to solve a puzzle

Which part of my life I wanted to hide
Which smelly deed, which perspiring nook
I turned back, only to see an enormous tide
Submerging all my stale moments that looked

Like a heap of rotten fish, dumped on the forlorn shore
Where no one ever comes, no one ever goes
All the moments lay before me,through their grey pores
Trickled down my joys, my pains, and there rose

Time, my most intricate friend, like a poet in trance
He waved towards me, and started a magical raindance
Form: Sonnet

Premium Member Water Tanka

WATER TANKA

                 Water in Kettle
                  Sadly settled, imprisoned
                  in closed container                                                                                             
                  When got boiled, escape
                 Through nozzle: Happy vapor.

                 Water in small Pond
                 enclosed by trees, shrubs, bushes,
                  play with their shadows.
                 Ducks and ducklings pick up mud
                 Little ripples hit green moss.    
                                                                                           
                Water in wide Lake
                  So cheerful in openness
                 Swift swans swim in glee.
                Water-Lily and Lotus 
                Spread pretty petals, broad leaves.                                                                            
                                                                                             
  02/25/18                                                                                            
                                                                                    
  'Kettle, Pond, Lake' Contest by Nayda Ivette Negron
Form: Tanka

Ultimate Diy Tool

Our latest product is the Viv mark one,
please stop and take a gander,
coated with skin of medium grit
and an ass like an orbital sander.
Adjustable nozzle to help you reach
in all those hard to get places,
plus two large air vents for cold air intake
on a range of adjustable faces.
Exhaust pipe set down around the back
starts first time on the coldest mornings,
but use of improper fuels may lead
to blowbacks without warning.
Will decorate, and dig, and clean
all your household stubborn grime
and is guaranteed to get all jobs done
in probably six months time.

For contest 'Make me laugh', sponsor Robert Haigh
24th February 2018
© Viv Wigley  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member My Secret Phobia

My secret is a phobia that many would not guess.
Bringing me much anguish and quite a lot of stress.
Some say that it is silly, to me it is immense.
Causing me to detour, incurring more expense.

I keep my phobia secret for fear I’m thought to be
Wacky and ridiculous and also cowardly.
And so I travel many miles until I find, at last.
A station that’s full service so they can pump my gas.

You may think this is foolish but I have thought this through.
And I have many reasons for thinking as I do.
So much I have imagined could possibly take place.
A series of unfortunate events I’d hate to face.

For instance, there’s the nozzle, already filled with fuel.
It can be very dangerous and such a deadly tool.
What if the gas should suddenly begin to gush and flow?
It is a possibility I do not want to know.

And when the nozzle is in place, it is really there?
Or will the gasoline start splashing out and everywhere.
Will it drip onto my car or maybe on my shoes?
Later on igniting – of this I often muse.

I therefore watch my gas gauge very carefully. 
And then I fill it often because I fear to be. 
Forced to stop at self-serve when my fuel is low.
Because there is no telling the way the gas might flow.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Watering the Garden

How I miss Spring with showers supreme
rainy weather kept everything green
But now it's June in the summer heat
have to water or it's your garden's defeat

An early heatwave it is blazing hot
everything gets scorched especially in a pot
so watering each morning never stops
thirsty plants need watering a lot

With a garden hose and nozzle galore
I water and spray and water some more
Over a hundred the temperature rise
how much of the poor garden survive

I sat in my chair and aim the nozzle clear
watering watering everywhere
The shower setting when I am near
the jet, full,  center for way over there

A soaker used if I need a break
the cone is playful the angle great
Mist for my face to keep cool
flat for spraying as the leaves drool

Use jet setting to spray away
birdbath's dirty water from birdies play
then fill it high to the top
holding spray down when full stop

I like to water it's almost like play
with my nozzle so many ways to spray
The garden remains green and the birdies sing
pretty flowers, fruits and veggies it brings.
Form: Rhyme

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