Long Sprayed Poems
Long Sprayed Poems. Below are the most popular long Sprayed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sprayed poems by poem length and keyword.
Sam, Sam, the drunken man
Hiccup, hiccup, stagger
Sprayed by the skunk again
Stench replaces swagger
Uncle is a rebel
Standards sinking lower
His Lust rings the death knell
Evil hands him over
Hiding in the closet
Moving from the shadows
Twist the truth to posit:
"Counterfeit their credos."
Urge grows ever stronger
Evil, even bolder
Acts are growing wronger
Sin the grim slave-holder
Sam, Sam, I know your plan
Play up victim chatter
Play down the bogeyman
Censor subject matter
Uncle is a front man
Paid to shill and tell lies
Lots of circus but no bread
The simpleton complies
Mocking moral wisdom
Bucking discipline's yoke
Twist the honor system:
"'Love your neighbor,' a joke."
Your debt is piling up
God's wrath, boiling over
Closer is His shake-up
When judgment takes over
Sam, Sam, you feckless man
Your gambit won't pay off
You shortened your life span
Your dying branch sawed-off
Uncle is agnostic
Paganish and profane
Justice is sarcastic
His rulings are insane
God's kindness towards you
Will no longer remain
Vengeance is overdue
Consequences are plain
Cut from His olive tree
Due to your unbelief
Uncle's owed penalty
Acquits God's faith motif-
"Faith is not a Schemer"
They suddenly barged in their tanks and trucks
Covered in various armaments of war.
Their vehicles droned, piercing the silence,
Cutting deep wounds in that fertile land,
And desecrating the once sacred ground.
Rockets flew like meteors across the skies;
Bullets sprayed from the barrels of the guns.
Some found their mark, but some strayed from their path,
Leveling all that within their reach stood
While fire, smoke, and dust turned day into night.
The cries of the wounded were all but drowned
By mortars and missiles that hissed above,
Spitting out deadly incendiaries,
Causing grand monuments to come tumbling down
And the once fruitful fields to vomit ash.
Scarcely had the blood of the slain been dried,
More bodies fell to fertilize the soil;
Some were washed, dressed, and decently buried,
But some were left to rot in shallow graves--
Unknown, unclaimed, and, oh, unmourned.
Innocent souls were expelled from their homes--
Only sanctuaries they had ever known.
Clutching the remnants of their former lives,
Forced to be crammed in dingy undergrounds,
They lived each day in constant fear of death.
Oh, how ghastly the scene that war had wrought!
How heartless must be he who does not weep
To witness such bloodshed and suffering
Of a people who just want to make a stand
And live safe and free in their borderland*!
*The name “Ukraine” likely comes from an old Slavic term for “borderland.”
March 23, 2023
Ouch! Please mommy stop it’s not fair
I pulled on her robe as she pulled on my hair
Halfway through combing out my long curls
mother hurries to get to the other girls
Gentle brushes won’t tame unruly locks now grown
sentimental first hair cut marks a milestone
I never thought I’d cut it off though she’d threat
But too many tangled tears shed for this brunette
It helped to see others face the shears
none were emotional not a pout no fears
It’s graduation for older kids in the neighborhood
on our block mom's a beautician mums the word
The kitchen used as her hair salon,
coloring and stylish up-do’s was right on
The can of Aqua Net sprayed tickled my nose
up next for a cut was my best friend Rose
Quit moving and crying I’m running late,
how 'bout if I cut it up to date
My lips were trembling, yes please do!
I saw ringlets of hair falling, one-two
I was only five and scared to look in the mirror
Why didn’t she just use No More Tears
Short was popular for curly tops, so lickety split
Part it to one side and stick a bow in it
You’ll find this disgusting, but Rudolph was busting
He peed in that fish pond of mine
But it wasn’t tragic, cos Rudolph is magic
And he piddles sparkling wine
The water went hazy, my goldfish went crazy
And splashing all over the place
It’s true, don’t be doubting, they dislodged my fountain
And sprayed Prosecco in my face
I swallowed a bit, not too much of it
My hand stopped too much going in
For wine that is fizzy can make me go dizzy
I’d much rather do that with gin
I think Santa heard, cos that’s not a bird
It’s Prancer that’s flying above
He’s tinkling from space, I got a quick taste
It’s gin and I think I’m in love
Then my wife appeared and I grew afeared
She had a mad look on her face
The goldfish are blotto, the yard’s like a grotto
With reindeer all over the place
But vixen’s my genie, she tinkled martini
So I grabbed a glass in some haste
Vermouth sprinkled in, right up to the brim
My wife won’t let that go to waste
So, now dancing twerky, she forgot the turkey
And I grabbed a casserole dish
I went in to get a whopping great net
Cos dinner will be...
a goldfish
Sitting in the “Peanut Gallery” in the centre of Doodyville
Clutching my Clarabell Clown Marionette , such a Thrill
No tangled strings, on my gift from Mom and Dad Vacing
Buffalo Bob says ”Please put on a show” my Heart Racing
Tight in his right hand my Clarabell holds; the “Talking Horn”
Clarabell”s form of speech : his seltzer bottle filled that Morn,
Hanging from his waist. My Clarabell, Sprayed Clarabell’s Face
I walk Clarabell back to the Gallery, Tears of joy upon my Face
When I got Home my teacher said Bring Clarabell to School
I put on a show, the teacher and the Children say “Harry, that was cool”
Walking through the rubble, I scoop ashes from my bedroom floor
I wonder : did his Horn go off ?, when the fire burst through the Door
My Clarabell saw nine sunsets, ten times Clarabell saw the early morning SUN
Do not shed any tears of Sorrow, Mom and Dad : Bought me another One
Inspired by the Contest : " TOYLAND " Sponsored by Linda-Marie
The " SweetHeart of POETRY SOUP " (and Me)
Dedicated to Patricia and Thomas Vacing ~~ MOM and DAD ~~
Spring was ushered in the other day by a glorious, warmin' sun!
The robins seemed elated, but for me another cycle had begun.
Just days ago the lawn was brown, now it's turnin' green.
Alas, I must begin the onerous task of keepin' it pristine!
I'm a slave to that consarned plot to keep it lookin' good.
I strive to make it the prettiest lawn in the neighborhood.
It takes hours and hours of back strainin' manual labor,
To keep it neat and trim, tryin' to outshine my neighbor!
The mower must be serviced, sharpened and fine-tuned,
Then, my spouse's delicate rose bushes must be pruned.
Flower beds must be tilled with the shovel and the spade.
To deter bugs and blight, the apple trees must be sprayed!
I daren't forget that along about the middle of June,
That the ornamental bushes I will need to prune.
Will this dreadful torment ever end, I often ponder?
I'd much rather be fishin' in those mountains over yonder!
Today, I arose early to mow the lawn in the cool of the dawn.
Behold! As I slumbered, a foot of snow had fallen on the lawn!
(Even those cheery robins had taken to wing and fled!)
Well, such is springtime in the Rockies - I just went back to bed!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
A chambermaid whose name is Marlia
Had the most terrible diarrhoea
Whilst scrubbing a loo
She needed to pooh
Poop flowed freely from her posterior
It splattered on the newly scrubbed door
Gloopy poop was all over the floor
There was a huge mess
It covered her dress
Her poor tummy was ever so sore
WRITTEN BY JAN ALLISON
Marlia was filled with sorrow
A clean dress she had to borrow
flies were attracted
The mess compacted
clean up required a harrow!
WRITTEN BY LIM'RIK FLATS
If only she'd have taken a Tums
No mess would be left on her bums
she's still in despair
a stench in the air
To the scent of poop she succumbs
WRITTEN BY TIM SMITH
Marlia was dumb, thinking it was just gas
But it was much more that she had to pass
The day was torrid
Her stench was horrid
Now everyone knows Marlia has no class
WRITTEN BY LIN LANE
Marlia tried hard to sneak out
the trail of her poop left no doubt
Lysol was sprayed,
Her funk still stayed
cause her poop kept running out
WRITTEN BY DANIEL TURNER
Poor, poor Marlia stunk up the room
Her hubby left and she has no groom
He ran for the hills
No more night thrills,
Now she's alone and her life is doom
WRITTEN BY ALEXIS Y
21-07-17
Hated T. and silly D
I will lose many friends when declaring I root for Trump a train load of muck is sprayed his way; a frugal woman, democratic and with long unadorned hair accused Trump of rape, she lost the case, but for some unknown reason, Trump had to pay a fine for, one assumes, hurting her feelings.
Trump's name rhymes with trumpet, the man is loud and brash, uses fake tan and a mysterious hairstyle, all of
The above is criticized relentlessly by those who harbor
vitriolic hatred of the man.
We mock him the why he holds a bottle when drinking water, he's a non-smoker and doesn't drink alcohol This remarkable fact appears to be viewed as suspicious behavior.
I think it might be true that Trump tried to upset the election, but the evidence against him is circumstantial at best, consisting of he said and they said.
The Election he lost, was due to immense propaganda
of lies and skulduggery by the leaders of a party that
has lost its direction given us a president too aged and, we learn, a corrupt man who has bought and sold his
services his whole career as a politician.
Let a new election commence with Trump as a runner
Let the American people speak, If lucky, we the rest of the world, might see a president who stops the stupid
the slaughter caused by NATO and smaller countries, like puny Denmark, flexing anemic hands, like a bully who hides behind a bigger brother and says;
Up yours, Putin!
You could hear the sounds
of sideshow alley blaring out
from a mile away. The hollow,
metallic rasp of music
and glow of coloured lights rose
in a huge bubble
above the beach.
Adolescent dreams
would flutter the warm summer
evening like a mindless moth
revved up on hope. The clang
and clatter of rides, the yells
and excited screams sprayed out
of a whirling blur of lovely faces
wound your inflamed passions
ever tighter. The telepathic
signals you sent out
to catch an eye scarcely scored
a glance. Then poised on a chance,
your brain would freeze and hang
on your tongue like a lead balloon
leaving you gasping for air,
a hundred words away
from ruby lips tired of waiting
to blow you up.
Alone, at the end of the jetty,
all you could do was to let
the wind billow out
a swollen bag of unspoken words
and send them off winged
with a foolish hope. And then,
the long walk back, the sound
of sideshows subsiding
into the sad lament
of breaking waves, the smell
of urine soaked sand
wafting up from below
the boardwalk, the weighted
solitude of the bus ride home.
Remembering a Christmas from a very long time ago
One frosty winter's eve
We went to look for a Christmas Tree
After searching until nearly dark
We found one and the truck did park
My husband got out the old tree stand
Put the tree in, fastened and it looked grand
Freezing we came inside, I made a fire
Then made hot chocolate we did desire
Tree in place, a meal eaten
Hot chocolate sipped we felt beaten
We decided the tree to decorate in the morn
Many ornaments upon it we'd adorn
During the night an odor permeated the house
It disturbed my sleep even though all quiet as mouse
When six o'clock alarm loudly sang
I jumped up, hit the floor with a band
Some animals upon that tree had sprayed its scent
So out the door it and stand all went
That was the first time I bought a tree
It's beauty and scent did please me
I probably won't decorate this year
I'm old, worn out __my dear
Christmas is special in so many ways
But those wild cedars in the woods can stay