Long Spick Poems
Long Spick Poems. Below are the most popular long Spick by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Spick poems by poem length and keyword.
It takes two to tango
So here we go
She cooks
I clean
Utensils now have
A never before sheen
Sweeping, mopping
And all such things
Under my control
I put my heart and soul
Into these
After all
Lady of the house
Has to be pleased
The house is always
Spick and span
Initially I was unsure
She encouraged me
Saying, ‘You can’
Our love has since
Grown by leaps and bounds
More so, in lockdown’s
Second round
Physical distancing be damned
We are always cheek by jowl
Love on the prowl
No, no
Our kitchen has little space
That is the case
The 24/7 company
Has made us so tolerant
Of one another
You see
The distribution of
Household work
Has perked
Our relationship no end
Some bickerings do blend
In the chatter
That’s another matter
Finally, an honest confession
No third soul around
It is she and me
And no other sound
Can never take eyes off each other
Yes, you guessed it right.....
Truly, ‘Maid for Each Other’
SPICK&SPAN
an outdate view
of the
cold sterile
&
reclusive
an existence
endlessly reconfigured
separated
by
the austere
an alternative
vision
inspired
the concept
influence
unfinished
a conflict
de rigour,
rhythmical
a breakthrough
sparse
but
pristine
immaculate&
sleek
subtle
spiritual
yet remote
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE without grammatical symbols the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and respond thus making the form a two way interplay and often a unique interpretation by the enigma so derived
It was a day of jubilation when
The alligators came to tea
Though I didn’t quite like
The way they looked at me
A Jungle Jazz Combo played
Do Wap free and loose
As we all celebrated the day
Of the inter species truce.
The chimps played the brass
A gorilla sang deep bass
While the giraffe conducted
Them to a cracking pace.
The lion sat there with the lamb
Ominously licking his lips
As he licked the brown sauce off
A large plate of chips.
Wolves, Hyenas and Hippos
All shared the same plate
As the truce continued in
A very uneasy state.
They fired a starting pistol
Ten minutes before the end
To give them chance to escape
From any new found friend.
Certain of the guests
Departed in a run
At the first crack
Of the warning gun.
I really didn’t like the way
The alligators looked at me
As we declared at end
The first inter species tea.
Although I was quite pleased
With the way it went
I don’t think we’ll be
Making It an annual event.
It took me nearly a week
To clear the mess from the scene
So it was as spick and span as
Though the event had never been.
ADMIN DAY
From phones to emails to files,
Your work, hectic, is recognized from miles.
Your expertise is as sweet as tales, you manage it all,
Despite the day’s daunting tasks, you still stand tall.
Behind the scenes, you work tirelessly,
Keeping things running with precision & effortless ease.
In the office, a team works as one,
Each role vital, each task is won.
Receptionist Dedun, with a smile so bright,
Welcomes all with warm and friendly sight.
Admin Officer Merit, with tasks so wide,
Coordinates operations with a careful stride.
Accountant Samson, with rare skills,
Keeps finances and funds balanced like diets.
Technician Joseph, handyman of all trades.
Keeps the electronics and systems running
For days.
Matron Katryn, with guidance so wise,
Leads and takes care of these under her guise.
Librarian Sarah, with books so clear,
Helps students learn, bringing dense minds to cheer.
Nurse Bamidele, with care so kind and true,
Tends to the sick, sticking to the healthcare rule.
The janitors, with a cleaning hand,
Keep the premises spick and span.
The chefs make sumptuous meals,
Taste and aroma our nostrils it steals.
And the gatekeepers, with watchful eye,
Guard the entrance and keep things dry.
Each admin, a cog in the wheel of progress,
Working together harmoniously without duress.
VICK MANUEL POETRY {VMP}
FORM: Rhymes
Copyright ©?5th February 2025.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
SPRING TIME
Springtime’s here it’s come at last
Winter’s over, it’s gone, it’s past.
It’s time to plant your bulbs and seeds
And clear out all those nasty weeds.
It’s time to shed those winter blues
Let’s all dig out our walking shoes.
Cos strolling through a crisp spring morn
Uplifts your spirits, you feel re-born.
All around, life springs anew
The sun comes out, and skies are blue,
The days grow longer, the nights less dark
And there’s children playing in the park.
And now it’s time to grab your broom
And start to spring clean every room.
Kitchen, bedroom, lounge and hall
From top to bottom, you do it all.
And now your house is spick and span
You’ve got your summer hols to plan,
Dig out your case and book your flight
Cos spring time’s here, you’ll be alright.
Gum boots all spit and polished, clothes all spick, and span
We are all off to church to give thanks to this glorious land
For this glorious land
For this glorious land
Each man has given his labour, every woman given her toil
As children brought up with a given politeness, not to spoil
For this glorious land
For this glorious land
We fought all our devils to be able to call this land our own
Only the Lord’s book in our hands as we enter the unknown
For this glorious land
For this glorious land
Stood fortified in our faith for the dreams we could achieve
For each seed that’s planted and in it we then could believe
For this glorious land
For this glorious land
Reaped in all our harvests, from all the fruits of our labours
Gave thanks and praises &, supported all of our neighbours
For this glorious land
For this glorious land
Now today we rejoice in our finest clothes and good voices
More so as revel in our pride of making all the right choices
For this glorious land
For this glorious land
Let’s pester Uncle Fester
After dafter Luxon
Pushed the button
Welcomed every glutton
To the isles of mutton
Theme of the meme
Team New Zealand
It does seem
No longer a
Stronger eclectic sceptic
Spanked by the rank
Septic tank stream
Peptic Pyramid scheme
Grand slam.. glam sham scam
Desperate Dan or Tangerine tan plan
God damn..American dream
Our rancour on social media
Danker seedier leaders crimes
Hanker for every greedier
Rhymes with banker
Sleazier golden geezer visas
Accept any offers to
Fill their many coffers
Brokery.. jiggery pokery
Immunity without impunity
To the unity of community
Profanity of their vanity
Insanity of their depravity
Clarity...disparity not charity
Tramples ample wokery
Our amazing landscape
Instead becomes their escape
Coined..after all they’ve purloined
Jolly jape…no red tape
Not being rash
But it is a rash
Debunk the gunk & funk
Forsaking the avarice
Taking the pis*
Bliss abyss monk
Crass..brash..flash git
S***k a chunk of cash
From their balderdash stash
Making..a complete hash of it
Fake elite on the take
As they see fit
Billionaire boys ploys annoys
Replete yet still cheat
Have your cake and eat it
Our government just envoys
For a small fee..sweet
Deploys the swanky..w**ky
Yankee all about me
Time to flee plea
They lit the fire
Liar & denier
Dug the quagmire
Piety for impropriety
Moolah Messiah ruler
High flyer pariah
Crueler society
Who when the s**t
Does hit the fan
No fibs..his nibs gets
First dibs on cribs
Outlier masterplan zen..know
Then where to go
Can always hunker down
In a spick & span den
Their Queenstown bunker
Amen
Roll back the clock to Josef Locke
(and not before or after),
in climes where shrines have names like Knock
without provoking laughter.
My father was an army man
(and yet me to beget),
all spit-and-polish, spick-and-span,
and quite the martinet.
Those soldier boys were short on poise
in those benighted days:
the Murphys, Martins and Molloys
were raised in rustic ways.
But Duty Sergeant Kevin Coy,
vesuviously vocal,
was out to drum-head or destroy
each vermin-ridden yokel.
His boots could pass for lacquered glass,
his gloves would shame a surgeon:
his dignitas at morning Mass
outshone the Blessed Virgin.
Imagine, then, when Cousin Ben
(all NCOs were family)
provided gen beyond all ken
(with palms perspiring clammily):
“They’re on a charge. I told them, Sarge.
I threatened savage slaughters.
Le nettoyage. A smell at large
in Ballykelly Quarters.”
They hunted high, they hunted low,
they bled the radiators,
more ebb and flow could offer no
Projection of Mercator’s.
Just how to quell that awful smell
preoccupied them greatly:
hard to dispel, suspicion fell
on Houlihan, then Hateley.
Catch as catch can, they caught their man
(not Higgins, or O`Hara):
who’s down the pan? None other than
your man from Connemara.
What Ryan knew was equal to
a peat-bog sown with barley:
he’d not a clue – “What? Put on new
bejeezers, regularly?”
His first long-johns remained the ones
adorning regions nether:
six months now gone, he still had on
the same ones, altogether.
“Wear other pairs? These stink – who cares?”
What’s harder to believe
is, unawares, his thighs’ black hairs
had grown quite through the weave!
“He’s now cashiered for being weird –
why then, we’ll depilate him.”
His locks were sheared, and then his beard,
and pubis, seriatim.
Thus Ryan, Sean, of Shirley born,
his gonads wholly hairless,
is there to warn, so sheerly shorn:
a lesson to the careless.
Whatever sins the Pope rescinds,
or parish priests connive at,
sloth never wins. Redress begins
with Shaving Ryan’s Privates.
I'd married at 21 and moved overseas with my husband's work, so it had been many years since I had visited my gran at Rose Cottage. I was taken by surprise when I received a letter from her solicitor informing me of my inheritance. Her cottage had been vacated when she went into a care home, and sadly she passed away a few years later. Gran had been widowed at an early age so I’d never met grandpa. I was her only grandchild and had such fond memories of spending summer holidays with her.
ripe red strawberries
boiling in the copper pan
I label jam jars
When I pulled into the driveway I was shocked to see how dilapidated the cottage was. Green shutters were hanging off their hinges and paint was peeling from the window frames. I recalled the perfectly manicured lawns and cottage garden flowers which were gran’s pride and joy, now a forest of dandelions sprouted from the lawn and brambles snaked their way through the honeysuckle arch way. I picked my way through the vegetation which was covering the moss covered path and turned the key in the lock; the heavy oak door creaked like my arthritic joints. Gran’s cosy cottage had always been spick and span, but now every surface was covered with a layer of thick grey dust and lacy cobwebs hung from the black beams on all the ceilings. As I wandered through the empty rooms my footsteps echoed on the old pine floorboards which were littered with strips of wallpaper falling from the damp walls. My heart sank when I saw how much work was needed to restore and modernise the old stone cottage, but with time and effort and help from my family I’m determined to bring it back to its former glory
neglected cottage
in need of renovation
rambling roses bloom
Fiction poem for Thesaurus - Abandon or Abandoned Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Dear Heart
POEM AWARDED POEM OF THE DAY
06/14/20
Those with a culinary masterplan
Know go for neon glow talisman
Spick & span with fancy dan elan
Wooing doing the cooing can-can
Riot on a diet expands my lifespan
Wrinkle free wry mystery Peter Pan
Doorman to sly new world deadpan
For sushi like John Belushi a madman
Oodles of noodles like silky doodles
Caveman craved calming ramen amen
In a hurry then lasso a curry.. yep Katsu
From svelte purveyor and belt conveyor
Time to have a durry in the rusty daihatsu
Beg for an egg sandwich from heaven
Palette parsons from Lawsons not 7/11
Stricken saved by nori or yakitori chicken
Remembers glory of flaming embers story
Or ditty of look at me too pretty sashimi
Detect such respect in every single aspect
Mingle & scan no defect full effect scran
No also ran but our number one suspect
Wasabi touch of ginger..trusty kemo sabe
Culture protect am a fan can only be Japan