Long Sponge Poems

Long Sponge Poems. Below are the most popular long Sponge by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sponge poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member On Being Old

An Opinion

Does "old age" have its own rewards?
I have reached a point in my life when
I am inclined to say: yes. Yes.
Often, old age is accompanied
by aches, in body and in mind.
Our youthful vigor is long gone.
We miss those no longer with us. 
Age does not magically bestow
mythical "wisdom" as is trumpeted.
I am not very much wiser at 81 
than I was at scarcely fourteen.
Somewhat slower on the uptake, I'm 
no hungry sponge absorbing input 
without loss of clarity or of comprehension.   
Aged, I have hearing deficits, "mental fogging", 
and don't control strange stray thoughts.
Even my delusions aren't as vivid. 
This is due to hormonal changes as I age.
I'm greatly bothered by absence
of family, treasured friends...and lovers.  
I mean all those I myself have loved,
platonically or otherwise. I do not tout
a rapid end to life. Despite discomfits, 
it's much better to be alive --- save
for agonizing pain -- than to be
unrevivably dead. Living in others' 
memories is poetic but isn't an
incentive for terminal departure.
I've listed my unpoetic opinion.  
I encourage all: live life. Have no thought 
or wish to speed its end. Nonexistence
is permanent, ever looming -- unavoidable. 
Live and derive pleasure and some worth 
from our unique (but very common) human
process of growth and aging. At all its stages 
life's much more than paltry preparations for 
an ending. We are lucky to be old, human, organically
still viable.  Live with the intent to thrive!


Asleep Courtesy Deep Relaxation Music

Elongated dazzling radiance cast abeam
sensational blinding brilliance
thru eyelids cast agleam
buoyed upon soundcloud airstream
entire corporeal complex edifice

rocked upon gently
shimmering weightless as moon beam
metaphorically floats yours truly
autonomic kickstarting process
since... flagellation enabled conception
circulating, distributing, enervating...

dna chromosomal genetic
data packets craft
lifeforce fueled bloodstream
aforementioned haploid gamete
kinetic, microcosmic, and opportunistic

unbridled, likened, and fashioned bream
identity guarding, glorifying,
edifying dynamic counterstream
crème de la crème
deoxyribonucleic electric kool aid

acid time tested testicular cream
erecting scalar, singular, stellar
survival of fittest
legendary, mandatory, and noteworthy
twenty three and me crossbeam
cast adrift amidst

one after another
continuous pleasant daydream
wafting mysteriously current
squarely bobbing (think sponge)
idyllically, harmoniously, haphazardly
and gently flowing downstream

nimbly manifesting lusciously
kneading jubilantly inescapable
heavenly glorifying dream
begetting coruscating prismatic halo
quintessentially orbiting eyebeam

orchestrating laser inducted fleam
painlessly piercing poetic pulsating gleam
analogous to virtual reality occurring
currently within whirled wide
webbed dammed headstream.

Meanwhile along Battle Creek boughs
tooting, trumpeting tussling,
nonetheless resolute triumphant hornbeam
built barque remains intact amidst every inseam.

Lumbering ship of state seaworthy
in league with moost any other galleon
forging full steam ahead
lake any other mainstream
weathering riveting pond during microbeam.

Premium Member April's Reach

Swing of rhythm from winter bleary
          to appealing chords of change
          in April's nibbling nudge of growth
          to lance clay earth - a listless shield
Shafts of sun, filling voids, to starch
           the landscape clean

April rains restore sponge dry ground
          wet drops that hang on branches
           like small crystal
Carpeted loops of spring bluebells below
           lift whispered worries 
           pert cupped flowers worth praising
           signs renewal
           like the world that catches on to truth

Tucked in new warmth,
          tree buds open
          eyelids of green
          an unhurried arrival
          like promises
          accepted
          by April's idleness
          sweet potion
          availed
          in the muddy spin
          of spring
          ignited







Poem composed: April 12, 2021
Revised April 6, 2023

Premium Member A Christmas Story

It is rather difficult for me to drink a good amount of water during the winter season. So often I will simply drink for my health and not because I'm thirsty 
or desire a drink. Please allow me to share with you a little story.

Every year we have a special guest in our home.  This year(2017) is a little different because it has been a while since we had anyone like her. I have always known that she likes water, but she consumes far more water than me. In fact, she simply stands there and smiles like a queen, adorned with the finest attire. Moreover, she acts like a queen, because I do not see any work that she ever does.  I am certain she feels like a queen each time she sees me bowing down and giving her lots of water.

It's now December and time seems to be rushing toward Christmas in a mad dash. One of my added chores for the next three to four weeks is to give her plenty of water. For some ten years straight, we have had nice Christmas quests that never asked for water. Not so with this special quest, because since Saturday, I have given her nearly three gallons of water.  This is all because my wife decided that this year, she wants something different.  So, last Saturday she acquired a beauty.  Please don't think I'm complaining, because what husband doesn't just love more 'honey-dos'?                    

It seems that our 'special quest' is sucking up water like a sponge, creating an extra assignment for me. Just now, I am thinking of giving our Christmas quest a special name, but the one I have in mind isn't nice. That's right, even though it greatly describes her, it would not be nice to call her by that name. So, I'll just call her 'Heavy Drinker'.

As our live new Christmas tree beautifies and gives off those natural winter aromas in our home, I will call her Miss Evergreen 'The Heavy Drinker' and keep giving her all the water she desires.  From my family and Miss Evergreen, Merry Christmas.
Form: Narrative

Supplement Me

Moon shed maximum bulb shares us 
      her grey making floodlight flash beam
      Hitting front sides bright, the rest seen
      by cautious shuffle, by textured touch

      Forest in scratched cotton, we wander, lost
      Find ourselves intrigued by her windswept 
      Tree top violent fighting, underneath kept
      Becalmed below canopy' s tantrum tossed

      Frail lady limbs lift in praise of invisibility 
      Humans don't usually walk in the dark 
      Quiver leaf edges wave light seeking spark
      Together no register of dark difficulty 

      Trek begun in afternoon's everlong promise
      Assured us fireplace evening in holiday home 
      True to weekend whimsy, we went without phone
      Too hazy to feel when dusk tamped upon us

      Blinking regularly at beacon moon vivid
      Busy branch hands reach to tangle my hair 
      You strip it from me, supplant yours there
      Scooped, encaved by you, lips delivered 

      Questioned, will this ease our fear, kisses
      Colourless mouths drive and receive message
      Clarity in your signalling lips impressive
      Way home where we are, present, viscious

      Biting reminds me, intensity of life is vital 
      Your intent brings surety, my body flourishes
      Urge to absorb your heartbeat encourages 
      Chest connection pulsate, music to cry to

      Roar of angered branches above turn timid
      Spectators to human demonstration
      Star ceiling winks at our illicit illustration
      Hushed forest watches as flush is kindered

      Closer isn't enough, heat travels free of clothes 
      Bottom on moss embankment sponge flung
      Entangled in forest enamour, ice fingers stung
      Blood streams bravely over stoney shallows 

      You become the hum of frantic tree faces
      Merged mammoth canopy caresses me
      I chorus with owl implore carelessly
      One with lost pressed urgent embraces



        
      2nd September 2020


For Christine

This poem is inspired by and 
dedicated to Christine Ha, 
MasterChef season three 
winner. 

Christine, I'd like to 
Sit and dream with you for a 
bit-
You, the story teller 
Me, the dreamer. 
I'd like to wash my heart 
In your evidence that 
There is colors and 
Meanings in this world. 

Did the sea urchin's 
Spine feel like the grass 
That so many wonderful 
dreamers 
Know all too well?  
I can picture them 
Purifying themselves in labor-
Some with their hands, 
Others with their heart.  

I imagine a sponge in your hands, 
Your fingers tightly squeezing 
And the splash that would reverberate 
As the water hit your soul.  
Then i imagine the sun reflecting off 
That image.  
And all I can do 
Is smile.
Form: ABC

You See

I look at the
            examination of the truth

and watch phobias swell     
           inside 

               inside clouded angst

but you see black and white

  and listen to the devils tongue 
 as he cries out from a molten cores fire

we are            
       a pawn in a chess game

listen to the man who has the answers
    he silently says 
when I`m right I`m right
but when I`m wrong
                 I`m still right

   do as I say and not as I do

the masses they cheer as they hear
     lets teach them a lesson

                arrogant ignorance

it`s an antidote to symptoms itch
these shiny jewels that hide the truth

sparkling they blind

                dissect the layers
shield the reality that stands behind
the travelled road 

               it   narrows at the end

when lavas river devours
and rapids rise quickly 
                from calm streams flow

the master pulls the strings of his
consummate plan
  dance    
        puppet     
               dance

dance to the main plan


as the subliminal messages
soak into your sponge like mind

no wonder we are now who we are
© Markus Jay  Create an image from this poem.

Guilt Is a Foolish Coward

Wipe that stupid grin off your face,
Grime soaks in your bubbly cheeks
You soak everything in like a filthy sponge – 
I would divorce this feeling of guilt
It stinks like manure on the ground…
The stench is too overwhelming
Don’t let me be ensnared by guilt
Be prepare to face your fears…
We’re on this roller-coaster together 
We can do this…
This will erase our past enmities in our minds 
Time breaks my heart, 
Once thumping with excitement
Once flourishing with love, not resentment 
You take everything so serious 
Like a pissed off clown…
Sc-scaring me out of my wits 
Dry your tears of dread…
You’re a coward, 
Hanging by a thread
And you’re awkward!
Leave me be…
Let go of your worries and don’t drift away
Let it be…
Don’t you wanna be free?
Just be patient – Tomorrow is almost here…but today,
It will get better don’t fret
I can see it in your eyes that you’re upset
Don’t ever regret
The quarrels that you and I get into
I’m not giving up on you
I’m not through with you
Yet…I feel sorry for you 
We both feel like a disgrace 
Embrace
Fearless Feelings
Honor, Hope, and Faith 
Get rid of guilt,
For it is a foolish coward just like us in some sense
But worse than everyone put together…
Does that make sense or am I being too intense?
We will be two peas in a pod forever
It’s not a temporary relationship
That breaks apart easily…
It’s as stable as a well-built ship
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Their Baby Girl Turned Out Exceptional

Their baby girl turned out exceptional


Their baby girl is very exceptional
Her script perfect
She always had a book in her hand
Reading every spare minute
With a sponge like focus
At craft fairs, for example
She would hide under the table and read
At funeral services and church
She always brought a book
She would always read, read
For her birthday she wanted every episode 
Of Criminal Minds, she never wanted toys
A book, or something stimulating her mind 
To her was gold
She would also multitask her art
Oils and knitting, all self taught and really good
With her schoolwork
And sports
Swimming, karate and water polo
She was the very best at what she did
All through her schooling
Every single day  
Every single day
She never received a grade less than an A
She was class valedictorian
She was phenomenal,  
A swan that was always a swan
And recently she completed her first semester
At nursing school with a continued perfect record
Of all A's, all advanced courses
To me this is amazing
If I'm beaming the answer is yes
I spoke with, or should I say joked with the ex
Whose genes did she inherent? Whose?
Because It's neither of us
We laughed, one of the few times we did
I once wrote to my baby girl
Nineteen now, yet she's still my baby
I wrote to her a beautiful poem 
About a blossoming rose
Growing to new heights, so elegant and beautiful 
Nurtured, loved and cultivated
And she wrote back ... wherever they put me
In life, emphasizing they, I'll blossom that's my promise
I read her response over and over
In my mind, shedding tears
At her conviction, strong
I got to thinking ...
Her being uprooted earlier on in life
Watching her parents divorce, being hurt as a child
Having fears 
Spurted her growth, ambition and drive
In my eyes it did
Affecting her in a way that she carried
A chip on her shoulder wanting to be the best
Proving her parents made a mistake in abandoning her
Just this past holidays, I can see a huge transformation in her
It's really noticeable, unrecognizable
She's matured faster than I wanted
Maybe she's dating, dipping her wet feet
But I see something different
I don't know what it is
She's not my baby anymore

connie pachecho

1/10/17
Form: Bio

Premium Member To Hate Hatred

Damn the tears shed for hate's sake each day
          For they threaten to sponge this good world away

We jump to condemn all our fellow's disdain
          Yet OUR acts and words are quite often the same

Human history is rife with our pushing aside
          The folks we find "different" that we should abide

The color of our flesh and the shape of our eyes
          Become standards we typecast and rationalize

Without giving thought to the lies that are spun
          We hurt folks in ways that then can't be undone

Instead of comparing our skin and our face
          We should see everybody as ONE human race

For unless we regard ALL contempt as the same
          Hatred will bloom, with our prejudice to blame

So who do we charge with abolishing hate?
          That soul in the mirror who governs our fate

We can vote to change rulings, legislation and laws
          To quiet those people who make bias their cause

Do our best to identify hate and its guises
          Combat it with love, and make no compromises

Learn to see "difference" as something that's good
          Preach kindness and tolerance, as we all should

And if we transform the contempt in our heart
          At least we can say that we've made ... a good start.




~ 3rd Place ~  in the "My Loudest Feelings" Poetry Contest, Caren Krutsinger, Judge & Sponsor.

* The fight against hatred of any kind is the thing I'm most passionate about, it will always be my loudest voice, and the thing I respond to the quickest. *
Form: Couplet

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