Long Sippy Poems
Long Sippy Poems. Below are the most popular long Sippy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sippy poems by poem length and keyword.
Garbled sounds of familiar yet compassionate love.
Surrounded by warmth and tender melodies as if warbled by a dove...
Soft beating sounds and liquids a flowing 'round and 'round,
Gentle movements, percussion's harmonizing soothing sound...
Breaking daylight unfamiliar sounds and brightness...
Sensations not felt before, warmth and cold with noises loud...
I scream... What is going on? Nothing is the same,
Awake, asleep, what is this a dream?
Never having felt a touch, never seeing light...
Stretch, kick wiggle and scream putting up a fight.
Soon wrapped up and snuggled close, familiar voice and sounds...
I'm settled down and warm as beating heart it pounds.
Soon I wake from deepest slumber,
Belly growling must be hunger.
Stretch and shout feeling pain,
Reaching screaming hoping gain.
Then soothing warmth and flesh a kneading...
Softest rhythm, two hearts beating.
Hunger pain has gone away,
Stretched out sleeping as I lay.
No worries, no pain all needs met.
Oh, but wait, what is that, wet?
Is it beneath me? That I bet!
Again, unfamiliar movement.
Feeling coldness strangely bent.
Soon by loving hands caressed,
Warm again awaiting rest.
Melodies so softly hummed,
Like a medicine I am numbed...
Off to sleep I fade...
Awake smiling, giggling too,
Looking up and cooing at you.
Everything so bright and new,
Wondering what next we'll do...
Much the same from day to day,
And surprises are on the way...
Rolling, tumbling and scooting with joy,
What is that bright and colorful toy?
Bells a jingling, blinking lights,
Stretchy bright and colorful tights!
Rocking, bouncing, sitting up,
Smiling waving, a sippy cup?
Soon I'm crawling full fun,
I'll skip the walking and start to run...
The time it flies so quickly now,
Days to weeks and then years somehow...
Daddy, Mommy, yes and no,
That’s a potty? I'm to go?
With my clothes myself I'll dress,
Shirt for pants, Oh what a mess...
But I can do it wait and see,
And when I do please jump with glee!
Run and jump and skip all day,
Talking and talking with nothing to say...
And then warn out asleep I fall,
With in my bed or in the hall...
Good Night All!
Coffee-Maker – drip drips
As coffee-blenders…zip zips
Brought my morning sippy-cup
For a quick zip from your caftan mug.
I don’t need a lot
Just a snippy-zippy single shot
To start the day and awaken my mind,
Speed my pace - fall not behind.
There’s much to accomplish and much to do
Just takes a minute to heap a brew!
Of all rounded beans, coffee beans are the best
Add some chai for a zest
Sipping a sip from my sippy-cup
My slumbering eyes do wake up!
Oozing comfort warms my throat
Warms my soul like a coat
A Rush of kinetic energy electrify
Procrastination and sluggishness desensitize
A sudden burst to run a race
Productivity produces a rhythmic pace
Word-clutters arise like the morning sun
Time for work…Time for fun!
Coffee certainly is a legal drug!
I’m all wired-up - though unplugged -
From one little zippy drip
Of a coffee sip
From the grinded drug
Poured into my sipping-mug…?•
I have a toddler who loves to play
Pretend – imaginary friend, make-believe
She pierces my heart with her adventures
Into the fantasy land of dinosaurs,
Dungeons and dragons, long lost voyages
With pirates and princes – feeling
Invincible, indestructible, unshakable
Like she has the tiger by the tail
And is sure to always win in the end
I’m still in college and this toddler of mine
She gives me a healthy dose of jeopardy
To help me see the thrills in this life
Now I try to do my homework,
While she colors, paints or plays
With a wad of Play dough in hues
Of vivid and brilliant scarlet or sapphire
I was doing homework one morning
As she colored there by my feet
And I decided she needed a sippy cup
Of cranberry juice to sufficiently be
Prepared for her day of fictitious ideas
As I finished up my homework
And headed out to the kitchen
I noticed her pterodactyl there beside her
When I came back from the kitchen
Handing her the sippy cup with the juice
She smiled and handed me a torn up paper
The homework I’d just prepared that day
As she giggled, “pterodactyl ate it, Mommy”
In spite of my shaking head, I laughed
And began to rewrite the page that
A flaming pterodactyl had eaten
...and then a flaming pterodactyl ate my homework Poetry Contest
Sponsored by John lawless
January 19, 2021
Yesterday, today, tomorrow.
1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10,11,12 O' clock,
24 hours,
365 days,
cocoon to butterfly,
7 days.
Over and over and over.
Again.
When you turn 5, you become a kid.
No more sippy cups or nap time.
When you turn 13, you become a teen.
No more cartoons and dolls.
Adults say, "You're not a kid anymore, start acting like it".
When you turn 18, you become an adult.
Suddenly, nap times become apartment hunting and sippy cups become shots that you're still not allowed to drink.
But just yesterday, you were walking to the bus stop in a backpack full of new supplies, and now you're having ramen on the floor, barely getting by.
No one is asking what you want to be anymore, instead they are asking when you're getting married and having kids, but you're still a kid yourself.
You're cosplayng someone all grown up, but you cry yourself to sleep because you just want to go home.
20 years later,
you have kids of your own.
they are turning 5, then 13, then 18,
and you're wondering where the time has gone.
The curious case
Of
Christopher Flaherty
Who began and started out in life with
a perfectly normal human sized brain
Born with a wise old head on his
shoulder's old before his time
That over time and age regressed
And shrunk into the size of a tiny little
pettit-poi pitt
A fair haired good looking newborn
dribbling from the mouth
Barely able to hold a conversation or
converse precisely yet instantaneously
esthetically rememberable
Decked out and adorned in a bibb wearing
nappies
Sipping from a sippy cup fed by means
of entertaining aeroplane game's
And how he ended up with the most apt
fitting nickname
Christopher
Pee-Wee
Pea-Brain
Flaherty
Who fell victim to age old adage
If you do not exercise or use it
There is a distinct possibility
You may just loose it
And seeing your life being played out
on the silver screen
By some or other guy you may or may not
have ever heard of or come across in your
life before
Who everybody else seems to know or have
in fact heard of and goes bye the name of
and is simply called
Brad Jolie or Anniston I think
Anyhow matter's not as we all know
how this storyline goes
Curiosity ends up kill's the cat in
the end like Tom & Jerry
And besides ive just eat all
of the greens on my plate
And we all know what that spell's
and means to a baby
What follows is
P-U-D-D-I-N----G
Time
Can’t believe how many years together.
As a couple the ups & downs we weather.
As husband and wife over the past six.
Loyally accepting flaws we cannot fix.
I’m not going to sugarcoat how we are.
After arguing, asking how we got so far.
Sometimes we drive each other nuts.
Wanting to kick each other’s butts.
But there’s times where we feel the glue.
That keeps together both me and you.
It’s what brought Ryder into this world.
Through the pregnant times, you hurled.
We made a kid that makes us laugh.
Yes, he clearly favors my better half.
A chatterbox overflowing with brain.
So much it can drive us both insane.
With four feline siblings and his fetus sis.
When they get pissed we hear the hiss.
But like us, they have plenty of quirks.
Goofing around like a team of jerks.
But it bonds this silly family that we made.
Our unique love quickly helps pain fade.
We raised so many kids over these years.
Picking each other up after we shed tears.
I honestly can’t say we’ve fully grown up.
Even after seeing Ry outgrow a sippy cup.
We’re still big kids, learning how to adult.
But knowing how to fire off a solid insult.
Our list of inside jokes keeps expanding.
As responsibilities get more demanding.
We often get under each other’s skin.
But it’s forgotten when our humor begin.
My love for you has grown every day.
Even though it’s not what I always say.
So when you read this poem as my gift.
I hope it earns a hug and kiss very swift.
Sippy September"
Good things happen in Spring!
Life blooms in the presence of beautiful sunny mornings.
Sunglasses on the hymn lam repeating reminds me of how beautiful the moon in September looks.
The day awaits ,
The birds are tweeting for us to kiss , let me shade you from the heat that engulfs bacteria on tender leather.
Sipping on Alaska's life support.
Hat on , tunes in my ear.
Flip flops so l won't tippy toe and flop...l can breath.....Winter is no more lam Jon Snow.
Not in December ! Not in November! This is September! I pray we will remember that things will only get better.....
Life can lift you up
At the same time drag you down
Have you drink from its sippy cup
Then pour you all out on the ground
Life can be real rough
While smooth along the edge
Cook you up way past well done
Then deep fry what is left
Life can spin you left
Till you're not sure what is right
Like a genie in a bottle
Rub you wrong then screw the lid on tight
Life can be a Sunday walk
All the way up to the end
Or a fairy tale where the frog
Never gets kissed into a prince
Life can be a breeze
That blows with ease or a hurricane
Choose any one of these
Life has your number and knows your name
Jock stumbled - pals called him a wus
(No injury was obvious)
But Jock bruised his willy
And now he feels silly
With todger strapped up in a truss
WRITTEN BY JAN ALLISON
Old Jock had injured and bruised his man thing
His doc said "Jock, you'll need a tartan sling"
He's now looking quite built
Bulging under his kilt
Lassies swoon when he does the Highland fling.
After a week his thing turned black and blue
Jock said "hoots mon, what am I ganna do"
But he'd left it too late
Doc had to amputate
And now poor Jock has to sit on the loo.
WRITTEN BY TOM CUNNINGHAM
He washed his new jock, it was new
So it tightly embraced both its crew
But after the race
Oh what a disgrace
His now aching partners were blue
WRITTEN BY JOHN LAWLESS
Jock stumbled and he landed face down
Injuring the jewel in his crown
His bruised pride and joy swelled
By awe it was beheld
Jock's tackle became talk of the town.
The doctor said I know just the thing
To give support to your ding-a-ling
Doc got Jock's bits strapped up
Jock swore and he cussed
For doc said it could be longstanding.
Jock's dilemma can be seen by all
He's going nuts because of the fall
He's craving free willy
To swing willy-nilly
And longs to unstrap his cannon ball.
WRITTEN BY BELLE BELLEVUE
Now Jock knew about liquid nitrogen
But sprayed on far more than he might have done
So just when it mattered
One tap and it shattered
And Jock said Hoots mon, me old fright’ner’s gone
He said Doc, I need a new caber
My wife has never gone through labour
The Doc held his gaze
Grabbed three treble A’s
And sewed on on a three foot light sabre
WRITTEN BY TERRY FLOOD
Jock managed to get his willy banged up,
He cried loud like a little newborn pup,
Stayed in bed a week,
It hurt to take a leak,
All because he slipped on his sippy cup
WRITTEN BY ALEXIS Y
IF ANYONE WISHES TO ADD POEMS PLEASE SOUPMAIL THEM TO ME
You would’ve been four, going on five….
You would’ve been my little angel,
My reason to stay alive.
Your smile would’ve been my joy,
Your giggle would’ve melted my heart.
The thought that I will never see you,
Well, it truly tears me apart.
Hearing you whine and throw fits,
Yelling at the top of my lungs “Be quiet!”
I get choked up thinking about it…
I would take you by your hand,
Teach you things you don’t understand.
The thought of it sounds so grand….
*sigh*
Tucking you in at night,
Would be such a delight,
I’d hold you tight,
And wish with all my might,
That our Lord in Heaven protects you….
As you sleep…
Waking me up the next morning,
Jumping up and down on my bed,
With your sippy cup in hand,
Pouring fruit juice on my head….
I’d love every moment of it….
Every moment of being your dad.
It’s too bad, and really sad….
You’re the daughter I’ve never had.