Long Sneezed Poems
Long Sneezed Poems. Below are the most popular long Sneezed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sneezed poems by poem length and keyword.
The Elephantipede
( as introduced in ‘The Tigerilla’.
Have you ever heard about the elephantipede
A very mixed up creature which it’s commonly agreed
If mother nature tried to score a hit, it’s clear she missed
Because the elephantipede should really not exist
It seems the elephantipede had only come to be
When a witch sneezed suddenly and let a spell go free
So now she roams the jungle seeking out enough to eat
Not easy when you’re forty tons with hoards of stomping feet
Today she gave up searching for another tasty treat
For now she’s found a highway and she’s tearing up the street
The elephantipede is leaving potholes in her wake
For every step she takes is like a miniature earthquake
The sign she sees says ‘Nearest Town’ which pleases her because
She’d trodden on a thorn but didn’t know which foot it was
Just to make it clear how come she knows which way to walk
The elephantipede knows how to read… and how to talk
Also, in this jungle, Tigerilla lives as well
Another crazy creature caught up in the witch’s spell
But even Tigerilla who had been her mortal foe
Crouched there at the roadside as he watched his rival go
So now the creatures that had feared her for so many weeks
Clap and cheer as she clears off, they don’t care what she seeks
Later on she finds some shops and one of them sells shoes
And somehow she just seems to know that shoes are sold in twos
She barged in through the door though she could barely squeeze through it
And asked the owner if he knew which size her feet would fit
The owner stammered when he said, “Would you like leather heels?”
And with a tremble in his voice he said, “We have some deals.”
The elephantipede said, “I don’t care which ones you choose,
I saw you had a two for one deal on all of your shoes.
Frankly, Sir, that is the very reason that I came,
So I’ll buy 25 pairs and take 25 the same.”
Then Tigerilla walked in and said, “Best do what she says,
Or you had better pray she only leaves you in a daze.
The elephantipede could wreck your shop and trash your house
And there’s no way to stop her… unless you have a mouse.”
We sing your praises long before you’re due
and after you’ve departed—all year long!
You bring green grass and flowers into view—
plus bugs, torrential rains, and winds so strong.
You come with warmth to woo the Earth to life.
Sweet fragrances come wafting on the breeze.
With allergens, the springtime air is rife.
My faucet-nostrils drip; I wheeze and sneeze.
But allergies and rashes can’t negate
your glory. Nor can pollen steal the praise
you’ve earned. Now I’ll just take my meds and wait
till I can relish your more winning ways.
I’ve sneezed on this creation seven times.
My dripping nose baptized the latter rhymes.
February 11, 2023
written for the Spring Is Not All Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Michelle Faulkner
February 11, 2023
Through the creek of the door there sneaked in a silent messenger of Lucifer,
A breathing man sneezed till the last breath, and was shrouded with chillness,
It was a soothing flame of fire choked the chamber in and out,
Rapidity was a trait of the silent messenger which breathed its force mysteriously,
And there was coughing, sneezing and spitting with rising temperature,
The stigma of Covid-19 had its recycle with its mutated psychology.
The victims succumbed to the predator’s double-bladed scalpel.
The illegitimate entry of Covid -19 into an Oriental province is an infamous history,
The silent messenger then turned to an untamable monster that devoured the ‘innocents’,
Clinical staff ran helter-skelter to fight with the devouring monster,
The malicious hunter with his hunting dog wolfed breath in minutes.
The mammoth giant in miniature form of virus wielded his weapon ‘cross the horizon,
And multiple lives were dragged thro’ the tunnel of darkness,
The malicious organisms with short span of life-expectancy breed countless generations,
And enjoy themselves with the crown of sinister leaves.
Who will chase the messenger of Lucifer and shall redeem the world?
Day in and day out chemicals and antibiotics run under microscopes,
Vaccines are tried in every corner,
But experiments and efforts seem to be a fiasco.
So Who shall chase the messenger of evil from the face of human lives?
There is One Who made man and creations,
So, let’s seek His Providence to walk in His Word,
And Life on earth shall be a way unto the Life of Eternity.
Shall we all….?
,
Lin, sorry to hear, as I am sick too
But I know it's not covid or the flu
Been blowing my raw nose
Sneezing still comes and goes
Maybe this cold needs a brandy or two
Written by Tania Kitchin
Hi poets, I've not been ignoring you
I've been battling the naughty germ, the flu
Writing this just to say
Feeling better today
I'll catch up on comments. Merci beaucoup!
Written by Lin Lane
Poor Tania and Lin are both ailing
I’m healthy but my muse is sailing
Away on a cruise
So I’ve got the blues
My chagrin is not worth detailing!
Written by Jan Allison
What I'm about to tell you is no lies
And it may come to you as a surprise
That all your sneezes
And all your wheezes
Are caused by covid virus in disguise
Written by Tom Cunningham
Tania and Lin, want to make a confession
They went out on the town for a session
But some bug sneezed in their wine,
On his way back from Des Moine’s
Now Feds have nailed him for indiscretion
Written by David Kavanagh
Poor Tania and Lin are both sick
In blighty we say Tom and Dick
But struck by girl flu
We men would boo hoo
So I’m getting out of here QUICK!
Written by Terry Flood
Our friends, Lin and Tania- feeling ill
Seems they both have a cough, cold...and a chill
They wrote each other a letter
To make each other feel better
So, their hubbies could get back on the pill
Written by Charles Messina
Everyone feels sick at the same darn time
This is a get well limerick in rhyme
No more sneezing issues
You've used all the tissues
Drink some tequila and suck on a lime!"
Written by Mark Koplin
Change is what we need to do, a perfect crime
Working 24/7 on lazy, crazy, busy, fussy days…gone astray, going cray-cray…
Focused and song-tracked at the same time
I flawed flawless on fleek, being a geek…seeking praise in many a-weird way…
Obviously, I’m a joke not taken lightly
Obliviously, you choke on blameworthy words
Stop YOUR Scrutinizing that you do so easily
I made up a new genre called “rop” – part pop and rap… as absurd as hatebirds
“I sneezed on the beat and the beat got sickah” –Beyoncé “Partition”
Beyoncé’s halo shines bright and she goes beyond say with her every action of saturated satisfaction and glamorized interaction, a daily diva decision
All eyes shower me with stage fright and yes, I quoted the Queen of POP
You got a prob? Don’t be a snob and chuckle sob…because it’s my job to get people giggling with poetic fiddling…and I will not put it on a STOP
From a distance, you can be merry and party when you see my reputation go from a fame-fairy skyscraper to a rodent, barreling in the filthy ground
I have bled out crimson creativity
Naturally, its this ink I called alienated ambition
It’s my cemented ink exclusively
Apparently, they say that I have naïve intuition
This is the tale of two little black kittens.
One has a white chest; the other, white mittens.
A boy cat, a girl cat, they have simple names:
These two, Bat and Gat, are of Hero Cat fame.
Though not very old, they have storied pasts;
The tales of these critters have spread far and fast.
So if you’ve a moment, come set for a spell,
And we’ll do our best to provide a quick tell.
It all started out with a flight to Ukraine,
And zombified rats that were raging, insane.
There’s the one where they saved a kid goat named Split
Using mountain cat screams through an old drainage ditch.
Or maybe an unwelcome picnic day guest:
A snake who sneezed pepper, got rattled, and left.
The story of Blueberry’s rescue’s contagious:
With Juno’s help, scared dogs away from her cages.
“Oh, come on!” you are thinking, “Just simply tall tales!”
Perhaps you’d believe, if you knew the details.
For these little cats have black magical powers;
They’ve spellbound my grandkids for several hours.
There’s the time when, while rafting, they fell in the lake,
And the great lurking turtle showed up for their sake.
Or maybe the time when they took the squirrels’ nuts?
Admitting their error: that really took guts.
My favorite is likely the old chicken thief,
And building the Tar Chick to give that coon grief.
At last, there's Bat’s failure to launch to the moon;
He’s healed from his wounds, won’t attempt that one soon.
These days Bat and Gat just hang out with the kids;
Did they really do this? My grands said they did!
————-
FIRST PLACE WINNER
For the Black Cat Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Robert James Liguori
Written 03/23/2022
From Nabob of Junagarh, or the Nizam—
Collecting tax on cotton and its kind,
The taxing job having strained all my calm,
I stayed at a quiet place, though haunted
And scary—a lovely place no less still.
Deserted now, it was a grand retreat:
River Suista telling in many ways
With babbling tales through every single pebble,
Leaping like a skillful dancing damsel—
What unforgettable and fateful days!
I still recall that flight of a plenum
Of hundred fifty steps down to the river;
A solitary marble palace, plumb
Along the bank, and etched as deeply ever
In my mind, amid sprawling green foothills,
No soul around to whisper of its ills.
The palace, over two centuries old,
Built by a ruler of a Muslim mould,
For private pleasures, luxuries enrolled:
Jets of rose water from the fountains spurting
To cool rooms amply made of marbles cold,
Young Persian nymphets there entertaining,
Mohammad the Emperor, too tired, blasé,
Arab maids rendered disheveled before their bathing,
Their soft, bare feet upon the water splashing,
Singing, and trying hard to please him in odd ways,
Whilst wine poured forth as ample as water,
Afar, tears poured forth from a lost daughter.
Fountains no more now found, songs too have ceased,
Nor snow-white feet ever gracefully step
Upon the white marbles that remain cold.
The vast halls now filled with some cess collectors,
And men like me, oppressed with solitude,
Deprived of all the warmth of womanhood.
My old office clerk had me amply warned:
‘Pass days there if you like, but never nights
If you care’. But I had waved him off with a laugh.
Servants agreed to work only till dark,
Which I ignored, a tusk as does a stray dog's bark.
The house of ill repute, spared by all thieves
Like a bad nightmare, I sneezed at that as well,
And worked hard for long hours till lights grew grey,
Returning at night, too jaded and tired,
Sinking deep into bed, unto sleep mired.
_____________________________________________
Narrative |01.04.2024|
Note: A poetic translation of Rabindranath Tagore’s story in Bengali: Kshudhaarto Paashaana, divided in I to XIV parts, largely in blank verse that lapses into rhymes along with its twists and turns. The story is known to have happened during Tagore’s stay at Shaahibaug palace in Ahmadabad, the nearby river Sabarmati becoming river Suista in the story.
The missionary had a cat, which travelled in the hold
That missionary sat beside a lady with a cold
She had a pointed hat and sneezed when they were due to land
Her book of spells flipped open and then things got out of hand…
In the hold where creatures were returning to the wild
The beasts all got mixed up, and then a Tigerilla smiled
From his tank the ugly fish crash landed with a splat
And then he saw the open door and flipped and flopped to that
The fish flapped all around; his bid, to find the Amazon
But everywhere he looked he found the Amazon was gone
He couldn’t know the plane had landed elsewhere on its way
And when he found a water hole he said a quick, “Hooray”
The missionary’s cat said, “Wow, that pool’s a lucky find,
But watch out for the hippo with his really huge behind,
And also, what is lucky, is we haven't mixed together,
Like all those other creatures which are now as one forever.”
The ugly fish leapt in the pool, with just his head still out
He said, “I’m a piranha, I eat anything about.”
I guess, Dear reader, that I have no need to tell you that
What this fish had for dinner… was the missionary’s cat
There was a tremble in the ground, a sparkle in the air
And suddenly there was no cat and no piranha there
What there was was crazy, it had fins and it had fur
And anyone around would swear they heard the damned thing purr
So now we find another creature, mixed up by a spell
A creature that might just come crawling from your water well
Is it a fish, is it a cat and does it matter that
It’s a creature that might leave a shin bone on your mat
Of course, in science, every single thing must have a name
And Mister Missionary seemed to have no sense of shame
Maybe he was sidetracked as he nibbled a banana
But it was he that came up with a name for it… Purr-anha
So if you’re walking late one night and hear some tyres squeal
Is it a hedgehog in the road or something more surreal
But let me reassure you it wont be a cat with fins
And it wont be a fish that creeps up close to bite your shins
For this is the Purr-anha and the jungle is its home
Until it learns to fly a plane it isn’t free to roam
So in the jungle there’s a fish with claws and it seems tough
That we once thought a fish with razor teeth was bad enough
Uncle Marco of Milan lived far off
He always sneezed and had a bad cough
Everyone feared he had caught the virus
They evaded him like poor Lazarus
Though grown up, he was more like a child
If anyone teased, he would instantly turn wild
And for the very reason, he would go mad
Once from the market, he bought a gilded hat
Wearing the hat, he ran after an impish brat
On his way he had to cross a mountainous track
Midway he slipped and fell off a steep rock
Diving down, the poor man broke his neck
From the heights as he landed down flat
He sobbed- “Now what use is for my hat”!
April.17.2022
To Lighten the Load Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Angela Tune
"Balls!" said the umpires
"Strike!" yelled the pins
"Take that!" cried the little girl
who kicked both my shins
And when the green penguin
started dancing a jig
I realized it was high time
to buy a new wig
So I hopped on my pogo stick
and headed to town
Took me two weeks to get there
bouncing up and down
But the town was abandoned
Oh no, not again!
And that's when I spotted
a large rabid hen
It was foaming at the beak
when it then spotted me
so I bounded and hopped
up the side of a tree
Then the tree said "gesundheit"
though no one had sneezed
and the squirrel with his nuts
seemed mightily pleased
Saw a midget run by
looking like Ben Gazzara
and over his shoulder
was Maureen O'Hara
Then I sprang from the tree
and pogo'd back home
where I wasn't quite sure
how to wrap up this poem
So I stole a line here
and borrowed a line there
nobody will read it
'cause nobody cares
And that ends the story
you can sigh in relief
Every bit of it's true
if you suspend disbelief
© Mike Wise
7-5-24