Long Spit Poems
Long Spit Poems. Below are the most popular long Spit by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Spit poems by poem length and keyword.
"The Hummingbird Cake"
The day started bright -
Bright Eggshell Blue
and ended in percussion
dark and cloudy stormed in
thunder pummelled drums
against a backdrop of
bruised eggshell dijon yellow
sweating heavy sage green
spitting spoilt the swollen pride of purple,
a wet abrasion against
Electric Blue
crackling along her lips
like Lightening
Sizzled on
her bitumen
her mind
winked at you...
Splits two
into one
not three
Taken slowly
deliberately
cake digested
swallowed like swallows
nibbling freely on air
a symphony of do you see me
in a Hummingbird storm
stairs to you she stares
upwards forever upwards
at lines of ebony tied tight
words kick and spit
like a cat in heat caught up
in a hessian sack
words in a puzzle
shaken and caste
on a playing board
pure white
not black
She,
Third person,
always Third person,
listens to her own heart
and then listens to the
words you have put on
and slowly worn warm
Revisits in her evening
a conversation with an old friend
Lorikeets on the balcony
Passionfruit cake and their
beaks in honey
a day in the life of Mosman
Carmen the dancer
Blueberries and
Raspberry Banana Bread
and Gold Crested
Pterodactyl Cockatoos
commandeering her kitchen
her gangster lovers
dead ends and loose screws
The day started bright blue
Ended in a thunder clap
boiling over onto a glowing hotplate
of flying embers,
reckless kisses and an unplanned
Storm;
A piece of Hummingbird Cake
was fed through a thread
In dreams while you watched
a movie in bed
Spoken to you
through
mind cerebral
not Reality read
Poppyseed and Honey
Bees buzzing on swollen
unheard lips
that silently bled Red
Words
Meanings
Life
Read
Red
Sugar ingested,
Honey to Blue Horse Flies.
Australiana
Fed.
Sleep,
Bed.
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
"Listen to the Hummingbird" / Leonard Cohen
https://youtu.be/hYIeW8bwlWQ
"Meadow" / Liam Gallagher
https://youtu.be/wHVuW7eOPNI
"Cosmic Dancer" / T.Rex
https://youtu.be/GMfjA4gyEcU
"Meadow" / Liam Gallagher, Lyrics
https://genius.com/Liam-gallagher-meadow-lyrics
I brush back
Her wave of turquoise hair
She winces but doesn’t yet
Pull back
From the salt in her wounds
And the sand on her hips
From the laughing seagulls snatching
Last night’s scrap of words
Leftover
From the plates and lips
Of Sunny Isles Pier
Our winter was very dark and very long
So far away from here
Who am I to make such a presumption?
To be so bold with the sea?
It’s unlike me
To have the strength
To pocket a seashell found on the beach
To rise from the dark of my hotel balcony
Kneel at the foot of the ocean
As the sky lightens to emerald
A non-believer
Petitioning the universe for absolution
While the shadow
Of a forgotten beach umbrella cartwheels down the shore
The ocean’s tide falling back
To that crease of Earth
Where our love still gently sleeps
At the mouth of clam
Closing
Orange sky to green sea
Pearl moon
A lover’s gift
Spit out then swallowed
Hours before
Re-opened now
With the tender thought of re-consideration
Burst of flame
Sunrays
My wife worn out
From our first night of margaritas
The air soft as cloth tending to her burned skin
Still in bed
Up there
In our high-rise hotel
The tower cast in new sunlight
Standing straight up
Brushing itself off
A waterfall of cascading gold coins
Shutters and railings rattling and glinting
In the new hot wind.
Wake up my love
Wake up to our new day.
Come down to me
See what we thought we had lost.
The Seeker
I have come to find shelter
with a fire dance on my lips,
my waist turning heads,
twisting in the tango of my history;
I have come with a storm in my eyes,
perhaps you will name me home.
I am here to seek a home,
where the sky will not spit on my face
nor the moon’s rays electrocute me;
it must not erase my beauty;
I carry my body like a river
and flow to the source of my dreams.
There is a fire in my heart
without the slow-killing smoke;
perhaps you will not suffocate
the whispers of intense love
burning in your soul.
Perhaps you will not trap my cry in your navel.
I tried to change my history, root,
I tried to exchange my destiny;
yet, here I am, intoxicated with shame,
the debris of my unwanted then,
when I sought In a million ways
to find another home.
The day finally came
For when we were young we read
Winged serpents of fire
To our planet earth brought dread
It was on a winters night
When i was awoken in my sleep
No animal could make that roar
As my skin started to creep
I looked towards my window
A shadow sped past so fast
Next there was an orange glow
Followed by, blast after blast
Fireballs rained down
Destroying everything it hit
For from their mouths they spewed
Like napalm, fire spit
For upon the dragons rode
Scant maiden warriors
For now my eyes believed
These winged serpent terriers
For with them came hooded beings
Who held up lights of blue
Servants to these dragons
The ones that they lured to you
When i look to the darkened skies
Every so often there are balls of flames
These winged serpents of fire
Are bringing down our planes
Through the smoke i view the horizon
Above the mountains, all i see is an orange glow
You can hear their wings in the shadows
Whilst they gruesomely bestow
I can hear my father and mother
Crying in their room
My mother in frantic screams
Declaring this is our tomb
No sooner had they arrived
They disappeared into the black
These winged serpents of fire
No doubt they will soon be back
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/fantasy-14.php
We used to just have a cup of coffee
Black
Possibly with milk
Maybe with sugar
Mostly on Sundays and with cream as a bonus
Today they call it caffe latte or cappuccino
Americano for the purist
From a fancy machine
With intricate pads
Anytime everywhere all day long
Espresso and hard pressed for choice
Salted caramel mocha
Strawberry frappuccino
Machiato or Mochaccino
Did the wallet grow with the taste
But the ultimate gimmick on the luxurious decadence scale
Chewed and spit out seeds collected for Monkey Coffee or
Kopi Luvak or palm civet beans basically half digested poop
For one hundred dollars a pound I volunteer to add enzyme
And flavour to mucus secretion purely organic and human
Free trade maximum wage and organically tested intestines
At a price I would consider to s(h)it in a greenhouse in Iceland
Or gaze at Taj Mahal Paddington Station or the Eiffel Tower
Volcanic eruptions with Ricinus oil are available at a surcharge
Gluten free habitat and vegan production site can be arranged
Hypo allergenic and guaranteed lactose tolerant for milky coffee
The crap has no limits and animal welfare comes at a premium
Ingenious and indigenous I vow to cater for all upper class smells
Calibrate flatulence and ingestion ablutions elimination and harvest
So you my dear customer can metaphorically kiss my solvent behind
Who says that one cannot turn faeces into money by milking some fools
09th January 2020
It’s Matthew Slice with his throwable dice
And his spiky hair filled with wingless lice
But they save the day not once, not twice but thrice.
They spit on his face, so he pays the price
The lice are heroes. Please take my advice
All hail the heroes, defeating a zero
All hail the heroes, on the planet of Shiro
It’s Matthew Slice, who’s looking so nice
Along with his best friends, the wingless lice.
Planet Shiro’s lice are greater than Nero
Here comes the one from the burning sun
Here come the ones who are having some fun
The goons’ remarks are just weighing puns
Those filthy goons have nowhere to run
Screw the goons with their pointy guns!!!
It’s Matthew Slice with his throwable dice
And his spiky hair filled with wingless lice
They’re the bravest heroes of the insect race
They’re the bravest heroes from out of space
It’s Matthew slice and his wingless lice!!!!
He sinks further into bitterness
with each sip of oblivion.......
slurping....gulping grudges and blame
with every malicious mouthful.
He remains suspended in cynicism;
hurtling missiles of misery mixed
with murky twisted memories in an
attempt to justify his tangled truth.
Untruths in reality, but his realism
is unreal.....swishing, diluted by
the destruction of hate; imbibed with
one more beer or glass of Merlot.
How sad this man frozen in animosity.
What a waste of precious time.
Life languishing in antipathy.
Pathetic intemperance.......
Put that bottle down sir -
drink this instead, savour it,
smell the bouquet, Beaujolais...
swallow the future, and spit out the past.
Christians are being persecuted
how sad their life's and families being destroyed
scenes of poor souls starving in the desert
classed as worthless objects lower than an animal
my gentle mother tears in her eyes said to me
were is the faith in love in this awful world
I agreed saying your so right soldiers protecting oilfields
liquid gold the objects of greed in nations none of this is right
its our planet now I speak the voice of a christian and proud also proud
I am of the blessed cross, baptism seals fate in his holy name, I would heed the call
if called to battle, I would be proud to serve in your name Lord, hear our prayers
If and when the calling all I ask of you father
forgive me my sins because in the heart I have offended thee in the past
please kneeling before your cross guilty having sinned and taken the Lord's
name
The pope has spoken out to our world with a plea
voice of love father our understanding
this is not right bowing my head in prayer at this earth's shame
saying now what has,
anyone been doing to resolve this
as when our holy father from the rock he speaks
A situation in desperate times a crusade is what we need
soldiers will die with honor at his command we kneel servants of the Lord
to protect these innocent people
love and loving God's children make this world revolve
houses of worship have been destroyed vile acts
desecration of the holy cross grail of life and loves sanctuary
They show no compassion as they spit in our faces
these suffering children of god die for us in our sins
turning a blind eye to the truth who our redeemer is
will none of us even governments take on the sacrifice
to protect these people
innocent women and little children
To see the face of the devil himself at work
because I do
in a calling I would sacrifice my life
in our Lord's holy name
I would join the crusade in a heartbeat
to protect and I am a trained soldier rusty
Available anytime for what is right
just for the sake of peace I pray to God
that he gives the answers to the world
we should do what is morally right
as we will all answer to the Father and Son
in the end with the holy spirits
we seek his redemption at the gates of heaven
Yeah, just grab an old rusty shovel, a case of Bud Light and hop in the back of my red
pickup truck, because us country boys are heading down to Sweetwater Creek to hunt for
some rare species of dictionary. Boy, don't you worry about nothing. We got plenty of
ammo. Uncle Willie, you know them dictionaries got some powerful stuff.
Yeah, they got all kinds of words that I cain't spell or spit out my mouth. Some folks
say, you can use them fancy-polished words printed in a dictionary. You boys know better.
We can't read, write or arithmetic! Boys, we need to shake a stick, saddle up and go
rustle up some wild dictionaries. To capture a wild dictionary, you need to wear
specialized Desert Storm camouflaged gear, and be very quiet!
Boys, its time for the hunting dictionary expedition!
Now, big Willie, listen to me good, when we find this critter, I am not settling for a
handshake, because I need to bust a few caps in those hind parts with my double-pump
shotgun. Boy, be quiet. Do you hear something rattling behind them bushes? Hey, look down
yonder! Oh, Nellie, I got a big surprise for that old slick Willy dictionary.
Well, I am a Southern Boy, with a background in cannon artillery and fire weaponry. I will
deliver the final blow and knockout punch with my deluxe K-Mart special, double barrel
Winchester rifle, equipped with a high-powered scope, aiming right-between-the-eyes of
the victim.
Big Willie, You know stuff is going to fly in every direction. Now, its time to grab that
slippery dictionary right by the tail, fling it straight up in the air and shake the
cobwebs loose! Just in case, we might have to tap it with a few more rounds of buckshot
from my shotgun named big Shirley. You know, just so I can let it marinade.
Man, I am so cool, when I captured this black double-breasted Oxford dictionary, I skinned
it and cleaned it and turn it into a thesaurus.
Posted By: Gregory W Golden Dated 16 Oct 2006
Spit and the Ocean
The sand spits at me as I walk
an uninvited interloper
content in my inane belief
I leave disappearing footprints.
Theft, pilferage, armed robbery,
committed in covetous collusion,
sunrises seared into memory,
plagiarized in dreams.
Thundering timpani of surf
rolling rounded stones,
salty chime of windblown sand
peppering the sea wall,
distant fog horn tuba -
ushers in the dimly lit aisles
following history’s lights
through shifting shoals.
The air shrieks, the ocean growls,
the sand burns, the brine stings,
the surf - in foaming rage - erases
all sign of my presence,
spitting as I walk away.
1/29/2016