Long Squashes Poems

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


Premium Member Commandment Battlement - Final Part -

A pawn for a pawn, a crown to crown,
whom is Master of this Lodge in town,
this I enquire while preparing the pyre for you to retire,
my meddlesome mobility unabated, indicative of a congenital nobility,
configured to coral this clambering caravan of corrupted cargo,
like a sqaulid sailing ship mired by a dragging anchor
I will be the insensitive squall that screams and squashes
your spirit's resolve for immortality to which you aspire,
by necessity, your pirate army pines to encroach this backline of mine,
alert for advantage like hyenas on high ground,
but when the men turn round with countenances of lost children,
then the lead you must take and oasis forgo,

A final engagement cautiously commenced upon the carnage 
of this conflict's first casualties, terrific testament of mortality,
gross scenes torn pale and asunder by torchlights,
unremitting images of the half dead bleeding,
their moans bare and last moments barren
like old channels of lost rivers,
raging exhaustion spurned and supplanted with a spontaneous summons
of a brazen belief that my foe is more weakened, warbled and wasted than we,
here in the middle, setting the endgame circuitously,
a defense is devised to deter like a pinching pillory,
my startegy is instinct, my ferocity diverse -

J.A.B.  - Final Part -
Form: Epic


Premium Member Midnights Blue Dress

MIDNIGHT’S BLUE DRESS

Midnight’s blue dress -
modem of her physique,
molded immodestly,
married to monumental
destiny of desires,
elongated as if clinging
to an Amazon warrior.

Blue dress props up
her spectacular breasts,
high and mighty, tinged
with reckless success.
Mortification of the madonna.

Fabrication fraught
with embellishments,
bells and whistles of gold
stitched like chains
into the hem she must wear
in eternity’s flamboyant furnace.

Ferociously blue, lips tremble
and pout, pretending to bleed.
The triple X dress sways
in ebb and flow of the mastery sea,
blowing holes in seasoned captains
who dread the siren’s revenge.

Presidents and dictators fall
at her knees, sliding their beggaries
over velvety weave, thoughtless
to her treachery - they make believe.

Midnight’s blue dress invitation
squashes them all, as
she looks on from the cliff
where eagles ogle their prey.
Ejaculators* best blindfolded as dusk calls.

12/28/2019
Blue Dress Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Anthony Slausin

*other than the obvious meaning - to utter suddenly and vehemently
Form: Verse

Premium Member Merry Queen of Squash

Pumpkin, merry queen of squash,
regnant on accord.
With a smooth and ribb-ed rind
clad in pepo-orange,
two strikes to sever
from the vine.
Gourd!





*Mary, Queen of Scots was beheaded by order of her cousin Queen Elizabeth of England in
1587.  Detailed accounts record it took two strikes of the axe to sever her head completely.  

**A pumpkin is truly the sovereign of gourd squashes. .  Ironically, the word 'gourd' is also a slang
term for 'head' giving this poem a most appropriate ending whichever way you look at it!.

***The word ribb-ed in the third line is read as two syllables.
Form: Epulaeryu

Premium Member The Way of Gnomes

The gnomes of olden times
carefully hung the sun
and moon up in the skies.

Growing gardens by their
light provided garlic,
and sweet pumpkin delights.

Hoards of squashes and gourds
for making many tools;
Gnomes are truly no fools.

Little ones planted seeds
and watered plants with care,
polishing leaves with zeal.

Foods baked with fluffy eggs
have textures that are best
a flavor-burst delight!

Elementals won’t rest
until they’ve grown the best;
herbaceous edibles.

Be grateful to wee folk
caring for your garden;
watch them not as they work.

For secrets must be kept
in Mother Nature’s vault;
the Gnomes will never tell.

Yeastroll Supper

10 eggplants sliced 1/2 inch thickness
10 yellow squashes 1/2 inch thickness
10 zucchini 1/2 inch thickness
marinade in.....
 1/2 cup of sesame seed oil
1/4 cup of olive oil
1/4 cup of parmesan cheese
5 Tablespoons of crushed garlic
5 Tablespoons of crushed red peppers
1/4 cup of dehydrated onions
1 tablespoon of salt
2 tablespoons of cayenne
1/4 cup of lemon juice
1/4 cilantro
mix together and allow to stand about 3 hours before you bake at 350 for about twenty minutes, or until browned.


4 cups of onions
1/4 c butter
1/4 c olive oil
4 New York Strips sliced (1/4 Inch strips
1/4 c of red wine
7 garlic cloves (crushed)
salt 
pepper

in a large skillet, bring oil and butter to a good heated temperature, add the meat caramelize the pieces, and remove from the pan(cook, rare, rare), add onions, allow onions to become translucent,
reduce heat, and brown the onions, then add the garlic and wine, and about 5 tablespoons of butter ,place meat back into the pan
place in oven for about fifth teen minutes, drain the juices, make a gravy.
serve with baked potatoes or mashed potatoes.

"beyond words
those which express devotion
and those that express the gratitude of 
people who love being together
people who love one another
and people who like being loved by one another"
Form: Ballad


My Version of Hell

Well there’s this place that I see in my dreams,
A place full of darkness and ear piercing screams.
Screams you have never heard before,
Screams so terrifying you won’t want to hear them anymore.

They make you want to run; their fear amplifies your own,
But you can’t run because this place is now your new home.
The only glimpse you have of hell and the terror it imposes
Is just for a second, just before the door closes.

Believe me it’s not a big party, where everyone’s having a ball,
No, it’s like a rubric cube, metal boxes housing the great and the small.
In a foetal position you are stuffed in this thick steel square box,
With a door that squashes you in, that has a six-digit combination lock.

You may believe in the party and see the devil karaoking your favourite song,
But it’s stuffed in a small box with loud screams going on and on.
At first you pray and plead to God to forgive.
But in vain you pray amiss, because you would not believe

Then you will question God and ask why?
Ending in you cursing, hoping God will let you die.
I had a glimpse of this from the glass tube I slid through,
Into a darkness so thick you could almost chew.
Form: Rhyme

Nightmare

I woke up from a nightmare into another nightmare
As the lights swooned and the clouds became clear
I thought morning came
But it was the beginning of another nightmare

The sun shines, the wind blows, birds are singing, farmers are farming,
I thought morning came
But it was all another nightmare

Should I not have woken up?
Should I have stayed in the first nightmare?
Do nightmares become better?
Or it gets worse?

The brightness gives the assurance that a bright new day is here 
But the nightmare continues
It squashes the hope I have.

But I need to sleep,
I need to continue sleeping
No matter how long the night is
No matter how many times I fall into other nightmares
I need to continue sleeping 

Because

One day, I will wake up
I will wake up into a bright morning
I will wake up into a new day
I will wake up 
And it would not be another nightmare 
I would have really met the morning.
Form: Prose

Premium Member Ggrrrrr the Spider Has Returned

I prepare myself for a deep relaxing bath
but that dratted spider was out to have a laugh

As I pour scented bubble bath into the water
Spidey climbs the wall  - he’d also bought his daughter*!

He raises a spindly leg as if to wave hello
that pesky crawling spider really needs to go

It's a living a nightmare, it isn’t a dream
So I emit a very loud ear piercing scream

My heroic hubby dashes to my aid
as my distress was clearly displayed

Whilst I stand their screaming like a stupid bimbo
hubby tosses the weeny spider out the bathroom window 

Alas the daddy spider he has other plans
and wriggles his way out of hubby’s hands

Hubby drops the creepy critter onto the floor
spidey plans his escape, he's heading for the door

Hubby pounces on him at breakneck speed
and squashes him flat ... he’s dead indeed*


*A great deal of poetic licence – thankfully there was only one spider and he was tossed out of the Window* I think the warm weather is bringing these pesky spider’s out from hiding:-(

Follow up poem to www.poetrysoup.com/poem/i_confessed_to_a_cold_blooded_murder_1029155

6/9/18
Form: Couplet

Refusing Fear

Pressed into cavity, wardrobe holds captive
Constrained where space is a premium
Love lodged squashes logic, lungs ravaged 
Quicksand scenarios draw a dreamer in


Denigrated to respondee in his spare time 
Hung on railing to wear at convenience
Smiling nicely to speeches of a shared life
Passed opportunity pops my congenial


Friendliness strung with fun doesn't endear
Resists my charm like chalice poisoned
Realms kept seperate lest wretch interfere
Rationed portions bring a brief rejoicing 


Abruptly leaves, impetus sprung immediate 
Swum mosquitoes among murk spread
Sting truth beneath a furtive fable feeding it
Sore heart can't receipt his ebbing debt


Cement devoid of tears ceases to imprison
Desert sand manuevre accomplishes 
Shatter of shackles farewell shadow limits
Dazzled escapee has copious oxygen 




               
                2nd January 
       Sacrifice won't suffice
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Fall Family Feast Footles

An oddly-shaped Thanksgiving bird:
   quirky 
   turkey

What we call Grandma's mashed potatoes:
   dreamy 
   creamy

How she adds volume to the main side dish:
   fluffing
   stuffing

What I always do first:
   eat Gram's 
   sweet yams

Grandpa always slices the Thanksgiving turkey:
   Harvest 
   carvist

Dad always brings a former Monkee's recipe:
   Davey's
   gravies

Aunt Natasha brings her vegan side dish:
   Tash's
   squashes

...as does cousin Reginald:
   Reggie's
   veggies

health-conscious Uncle Theodore is happy:
  Ted eats 
  red beets

Cousin Jeannie brings her specialty:
   teen Jean's 
   green beans

rustic Vern brings gourds from his farm:
   bumpkin's 
   pumpkins

Great Aunt Esther sings an ode to the delicious greens:
   salad 
   ballad

we all love her aesthetically arranged grains:
   wild rice 
   styled nice

Brother Andrew provides chocolates for dessert:
   Andy's 
   candies

Mom is always the last to finish eating:
   savors
   flavors

What I have after eating too much:
   gummi 
   tummy

Written 20 November 2022
© John Watt  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Footle

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