Long Showers Poems
Long Showers Poems. Below are the most popular long Showers by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Showers poems by poem length and keyword.
Idyllic country setting, from somewhere in the past
Imagine an expanse of rich green grass
Running up to a fence, fronting a proud red barn
The subject of this timeless, yet timely yarn …
The sky painted with bright streaks, close to sunset
Showers had been falling; the world was still wet
From the smell of Spring rains that long linger
Blended with the acrid smoke of a lone gunslinger …
The barn door lay open, not a trace of the horse
Its stall disheveled, from the application of force
The hay unheaten, drops of blood all around
And the gun of a lone gunslinger left on the ground
The owner paused a moment, then wept like a child
Unabashed, herky-jerky, without end did he cry
'Cause he knew full well, as his tears they did swell
That his steed had fallen victim to a gunslinger from Hell
The sun set in the West; night had descended
The life of the horse over, finished, ended ...
Years later folks still recalled the yarn, and the smell
Of the stall emptied by a gunslinger, by his magnum's death knell
So my friend said his sister was saying her vows
In a low key church ceremony three weeks from now
No parties, no showers, no flowers, no muss
But I thought to myself she deserved a small fuss!
So I planned a surprise that would redden her face
A Bachelorette Party so hot and debase
She would never forget for the rest of her days
That wee bit of naughty before strict married ways.
I invited her over to casually dine
And not knowing her friends, I invited all mine.
I decorated the place with men's private parts
And hired a stripper from "Bachelor of Darts."
She arrived right on time, a quarter past seven
And I found my friend's sis was a slice out of heaven
And that description is not the slightest bit shabby
As his "sister" was a nun from the neighborhood abbey!
I welcomed her whilst I was gesturing frantically
For my friends to hide all that would shame me gigantically
And to their credit they did, even cancelled the stripper
And we dined and chatted til I was feeling quite chipper
We finished the meal, and I went to the loo
When suddenly a scream went up from my crew
I ran to see sister slumped, white as a ghost
And a room full of people hysterical almost
There in front of the nun sat the special dessert
I had ordered before meeting the sweet Sister Gert
It was fully erect, took a long time to make
And for the first time I found myself regretting cake!!!
8/7/2016
For contest "Regretting Cake"
Finalized 8/14/2016
Now for "Take the Dagger from my heart, Please"
“God is exalted in His power.
Who is a teacher like Him?
Who has prescribed His ways for Him,
Or said to Him, ‘You have done wrong’
Remember to extol His work,
Which people have praised in song.
All humanity has seen it;
Mortals gaze on it from afar.
How great is God—beyond our understanding!
The number of His years is past finding out.
“He draws up the drops of water,
which distill as rain to the streams;
the clouds pour down their moisture
And abundant showers fall on mankind.
Who can understand how He spreads out the clouds,
How He thunders from His pavilion?
See how He scatters His lightning about Him,
bathing the depths of the sea.
This is the way He governs the nations
And provides food in abundance.
He fills His hands with lightning
And commands it to strike its mark.
It stood on the other side of the wall rooted firmly
for the white bougainvillea tree did not belong to me
Wondered why it always branched this side
paving my walkway with blooms of white
While I patiently waited for my rose bush to flower
it nonchalantly continued its year-long showers
Unbothered unfettered by the gardener’s reaper, it grew
in every direction, old branches shooting off the new
Assiduously each day I tried to broom them away
but they, like a mother’s kisses were always there
Falling softly like advices from an old friend
they were fragile, paper-white, yet persistent
With gentle breeze they glide to me be it summer rain or spring
Innumerable, countless like God’s many blessings.
Warning: vaguely gross content... hmm, can something be ‘vaguely’ gross?
NO TOILETS IN THE SKY
To the tune of Ghost Riders In The Sky (loosely)
Santa’s doing tinkles as he travels on his way
Sprinkling golden showers ’cross the moonlit sky today
He has no private place to pee which fills him with dismay
For there’s no public toilets... in the Milky Way
Santa’s got his legs crossed cos he’s been out on the beer
His guts are throwing tantrums and he wishes home was near
He knows he’s gonna poo his pants that fact is fairly clear
For there’s no public toilets... in the upper atmosphere
He needs to go
He needs to pray
No toilets in the sky
Santa hits some turbulence and says a little prayer
He needs to poo and piddle but there’s nowhere private there
He’s sure he gonna throw up and become a vomit sprayer
For there’s no public toilets... in the ozone layer
Santa’s gonna poop himself, how will he show his face
Public humiliation, and permanent disgrace
He can’t hold on much longer, though he needs a private place
For there’s no public toilets... on the edge of space
He needs to go
He needs to pray
No toilets in the sky
Santa belched and burped and then his tummy grumbled loud
His fart was wet but silent, he was glad because he’s proud
Santa’s really trying not to throw up over crowds
For there’s no public toilets... high above the clouds
Santa’s doubled up, good job the reindeer know the way
He’s squirting out of every orifice a putrid spray
All kinds of hell are raining down on Earth this Christmas Day
For there’s no public toilets... in the Milky Way
He needs to go
He needs to pray
No toilets in the sky
No toilets in the sky
No toilets in the sky
Reading brings me to
another world of freedom.
While pages fly off the book,
so does in my mind,
as I become the figure
in another place in time.
Morning tropical
sun showers its breath form rays
on the sandy forlorn shore.
Barefoot on the beach,
warm fine sand between my toes,
the smell, and taste of salt air
on my face and lips.
Balmy wind wafts a few loose
strands of hair across my face.
My eyes squinting in
the sun glare to see clearly
the small sailboat out upon
calm viridian
hue and marine blue ocean
against the blue horizon.
Majestic stillness
a yearn sublime radiant
blue, sound of scattering waves.
7/4/2019
Picture 2
Poetry Contest: Fives and Sevens
Sponsored by: Joseph May
O-lden days were the best
L-iving in a shack
D-ad would come home and split wood
E-very day
N-ever missing a whack
D-airy treats came on the weekends
A-long the way to grandmas
Y-early camping was always fun. When we went with grandpa
W-e as kids would play all day,
E-verything from hide in seek to tag
R-unning around saying tag your it
E-ven Listening to our mothers nag
T-icks didnt exist in our neck of the woods or at least not like today
H-ay wed play in for hours
E-ven on them soggy days, when mother nature gave us showers
B-eing a kid was fun back then But
E-verything went by
S-o fast If only i could go back one more
T-ime id try to make it last!!!!!!
Written: November 11, 2023
____________________________________________________
Zeal, which requires forbearance as its root,
Akin to a home built upon sleek clay
Yet, as brave as all the walls on the route
And its high spires proudly rise to the sky.
Though skilled creators leave behind a trail,
Aesthetic pyrrhic shapes on every hand.
Shining sculptures in shady nooks prevail
And waterfalls dance in some pastiche stands.
Yet, when a gloomy easterly breeze blows,
The worst wind blows, and dewy showers fall.
Always defeating a hindrance that flows
Then! The ornate design crumbles and crawls.
Earning love spells the skill to endure pain.
Masonry-like friendship called to remain
Behold there, a Somali child is standing on dry scorching rocks.
Its two eyes glitter like a rough diamond, parched, bleak and dark.
Its shrunken belly exhibits the fragile bony ribs and silently mocks
The phony Art that seeks artistic beauty even in such scar-mark.
The orphan boy was trying to scream but no voice came out
From its barren vocal cord, empty stomach and shrinking lung.
Its salty tears dried out like parched petals of a dead sprout.
Its face looked so blue and pale as if it were serpent-stung.
This child, like all newborns here, was born with a constant Curse
Of utmost struggling life until it moves, stares, breathes no more.
Even showers upon the drought-infested land cannot reimburse
The dry hearts of millions of such Somali children, the Pain-store.
Two immobile figures of parents are half-buried on dusty ground
And the mumbling cries of the child melted in heat of wind there.
No humans there to hear except the vultures that hovered around
The fresh dead bodies and waited until fall of another tiny figure.
SUMMER RAIN Ottava rima
Blazing Sun dazzles. Season is Summer.
From sea, river scorching Sun sips water
Wind getting warmest to hit hot hammer.
On sky, clouds cluster, make crowd, take shelter.
Lightning flashes with thunder as armour.
Gallant gust chases clouds, while more clouds enter.
Summer showers rain with loud thunder storm.
Its frolic form: Usual seasonal norm.
08/29/17