Long Squishy Poems
Long Squishy Poems. Below are the most popular long Squishy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Squishy poems by poem length and keyword.
Holy Slime of Spring™
Seasonal Epic -- Limited Drop
A divine ooze imbued with chaotic Easter energy.
Hand-delivered by a suspiciously muscular bunny and sealed in a glitter egg forged from cosmic sugar.
Properties:
Sparkles under moonlight
Smells faintly of jellybeans, peeps, and ambition
Doubles as a universal key for Easter Basket Portals™
Hums quietly when near chocolate
Effects (Passive):
+2 Egg Luck
+1 Bunny Evasion
+3 Glitter-Based Charisma
Immune to Monday blues for 24 hours after contact
Warning:
Do not feed after midnight.
Do not combine with cursed grass.
Do not let it judge you (it already has).
MysticMisfits Product Line™
Coming soon to a dimension near you… or in that locked drawer you forgot existed.
Slime Label Edition
Jelly-glow divine,
bunny whispers through the mist--
greed’s celebration.
Jellybean Blessing
May your slime stay squishy,
your portals stay open,
and your enemies
step in glitter barefoot.
May every egg you touch
hatch delight or mild chaos,
and may you always
taste the rainbow
before it melts.
in streams of sunbeams inviting
my face to turn upwards
I am captured by intangible senses of
nutmeg and cinnamon communion-
candy-coated moments blossoming
As the wizard of memories wakes a dream
speechless and smiling
standing and body turning with movement
I am drawn onto the shag carpet
of blades sprouting green lightheartedness
tickling the soles of my feet
unabashedly bare
naked on an aimless path
shuffling gaited rhythms of a waltz step
striking with carefree muted thuds
on the squishy sod
jumping-running-skipping…
lifting ever higher-a freedom
that only children know
visitors from the ghosts of my youth
appear from the mettle of my core
singing, talking and laughing
each lyric echoing unrestrained
their haunting chimes pasted
in a basket of blue skies painted
with art of clouds
colored like vague stranded souvenirs-
a pictorial imbued across the horizon
a stage-play of our backyard friendships
step-by-step twirling-arms swinging-round
bare feet colliding with smiles
and I…..with great laughter...
I danced with them all!
November 2, 2022
This or That Vol 14 Poetry Contest
Renascence
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh
1. A satellite on me is so superfluous
b’cos even without it, you’ll see my flaws
my new adulthood on your eyes is a sty
as my every late night makes you pray and cry
anytime my rebellion faces your bash
my dearly connection with you seems to crash
please dad, don’t feel like my missing baluster
because of the flaunted young and new mister
every man I meet, a potential eyrie
falling for opportunists, yet not sorry.
Chorus
You want the best for me but I want fun
you know the path for me but no flowers
your love stays too tight, I want to get loose
all you see is my sky but I see Earth
I need this pause for a replay later.
2. Your restrictions make my inexperience belch
exploits from friends and media I want to fetch
my lovely journey, you want to ride and steer
my resistance means not, you are not a dear
this close adventure is said to be squishy
stay clear but tell me of anything fishy
I’m in that phase where my confidence straggles
stay with me dad but allow me to struggle
so let me out of your strong moral’s billet
or else I will turn out to be the bullet.
Chorus
You want the best for me but I want fun
you know the path for me but no flowers
your love stays too tight, I want to get loose
all you see is my sky but I see Earth
I need this pause for a replay later.
3. Boys, boys, boys, all that matter for me to quake
scary and deep but clear and warm is this lake
in the harsh weather, I have a moving fan
so that on previous happiness, please unban
you were once in this youthfulness currency
why the hypocrisy in expectancy?
I am passing through life to stay as Age’s toy
so please stop your investigative envoy
every bad mistake, your senses document
but to my heartbreaks, please be there to unguent.
Bridge
Big pa is coming, coming, coming in red
Oh lord I’m running, running, running in black
[Repeat bridge]
Chorus
You want the best for me but I want fun
you know the path for me but no flowers
your love stays too tight, I want to get loose
all you see is my sky but I see Earth
I need this pause for a replay later.
Published on the 5th of March. 2017
Your castle has a moat
to mark for the unawares
the point of danger,
the change of rule.
My fort has a juice box
Your castle has a drawbridge
to allow in only those
who pass the "Hark! Who goes"
test and cause the chains
to move.
My fort has peak roof
for peeking out
and, on occasion
for peeking in.
But only for the Lucky Few
and only in the Lucky Few
moments when all is well,
for a spell.
Your castle has
both balustrade and colonnade,
meurtrière 'n its parapets
for staving off the storms
and againststanding and
withstanding arméd swarms.
My fort has a
pair a pets:
this fluffster at my calf,
snoring and this stuffster
in crook of arm;
well-worn, with eye
missing but stuffed
animals see with squishy bits
inside, not these button eyes.
Your castle has barbican and portcullis.
My fort has a wittle wiccan. Jealous?
Your castle has both crenellation and machicolation.
My fort has an introvert's narration and ceaseless cogitation.
Your castle has walls of
stone, long-charred by dragon
breath. With dents by dint
of Minotaur and Harpy.
My fort is cotton batting,
linen for winnin'
battles with monsters
greater than your gods.
When my enthusiasm is high and I feel joyful
my mind is orange.
Wildly and outrageously colorful,
bursting with happy to help sad out.
Sad is gray.
She wants to hold me under her muck
until I cannot breathe.
I begin shrieking for orange and hot pink and yellow
to save me, and they do.
Brown and gray hate me,
and I despise and detest and ignore them whenever possible.
They want me to be depressed and angry, my most non-self.
I would be quite mad, certifiable probably,
if orange and yellow and neon pink did not shower
me with love and respect and bliss.
I would be carried off in a straight jacket
if people realized how psychedelic I am inside.
But I keep it under wraps.
It is bad enough to have nightmares where
I am screaming and kicking, trying to be myself as
infamous gray and angry brown attempt to
drowned me in the squishy mud of Status Quo Swamp.
Sh!
Rest assured.
I do not go quietly.
Your talking dreams, now you're in my realm
The dreams are not what the actor's film
You want the truth, or fact, even faith,
reality and dream, all the same, either way
Watch me walk into the night
From darkness, I will draw forth your light
Not many can appreciate your plight
I'm the Dream Walker turning dragons into knights
A dragon that shrieks & lights up, yet a man?
But that is not what the creator had planned
You see that which dwells inside of me
Is not the same thing as a dragon you see
Once in a dream on a ledge high aloft
I jumped off the side and the facade fell off
From out of the canyon guess what arose
It was cousin to the dragon that writes in old prose
Wings bellowing on the current it flapped them you see
Beautiful and white the wings were to me
As large as a dragon yet feminine and soft
I became a white moth and to the moon, I shot off
But flying beside me where no one could see
Another white moth was traveling with me
We flew to the moon and we both gazed far off
to the earth below it looked squishy and soft
A light on a porch was the only beacon to see
I did not understand why the light beckoned me
The giant white moth somehow sets me free
Not losing my mind the white moth it was me
Crawling along the sidewalk,
his tiny legs wiggling along
with his wriggling, squiggly body,
he creeps me out!
If he survives the elements
or the stampede of hard-soled monster feet
upon his too-soft squishy body,
he will perform a disappearing act!
Spewing sticky strands
from glands near his mouth,
he twists himself into an ugly shell
hidden and hanging from a common twig.
Shedding skin, he slowly reveals
his chrysalis self.
At last,
his inner beauty, that rare beauty in disguise,
will have changed before our amazed eyes
into the colorful radiant wings
of a splendid butterfly!
Written Jan. 4, 2016 and pretty much my only free verse so far this year!
I have figured out my arachnophobia,
it’s not the multiple eyes
or the seen or imagined hairiness of the body,
or that torso-less squishy bag.
Apart from we bipedal life-forms
four legs, one on each corner,
seems about right.
Eight is a nightmare.
I try to imagine a Koala Bear with eight legs,
or a Rhinoceros
or, heaven forbid, a crocodile.
Somehow nature got drunk on its own ripe berries,
somehow, 8 became its own demented trick
played upon we giants.
We instinctively leap away from that ancient stillness,
a crouching threat that at any moment
could burst into that fast stiff shuffle.
We watch dismayed as it
carries its own vulnerable package of horror
on all those ratcheted hoists and cranes
itself fearful even to be seen.
“The torrent of trying time takes away
the debris of decayed dreams”- Quote by poet
In your squishy hug my fervent arms delicately turn
into the embrace of my heart’s enchanted urn,
set the lingering longing latent deep within
to sail in the sea of depthless desire keen.
In my ardent sea the waves roll to beguile,
spread the shining pristine pearls of your smile
with the mesmeric lattice of moon-rays entwined,
its sparkle splashes on my enticed emotion illumined.
In my fervor your sensuous shadow exudes grace,
the duality decays to oneness in fusing embrace.
When the ebb of toiling time takes you away,
in my heart eternally embellished you stay.
My feeble aspiration to capture the rainbow
to weave the tapestry of life with spectral glow,
turns into the self-destructive obsessive condition
that fails to dispel the dream-fringed cloud of illusion.
Shredded by the splitting bevels of the slashing strife,
fragile fragments of failure I feel sliced from my life,
spread on untraveled path to the rainbow frayed,
that lies dismantled in debris of dreams decayed.
Oh, soft, squishy, most beloved Teddy!
How I hugged you on scary stormy nights.
I know you loved me, with all your heart's
own bear might!
You sat smiling at my alpine wood children's table.
While I made us lunch, as best as a little girl was able!
I read you books with pictures I did so love.
You said nothing, but we were close as hands in a glove.
Those dark eyes sparkling, your lips in a sweet curl.
These young girl memories, make by heart twirl.
On warm summer days, you and my doll, Nancy, in a
buggy were placed.
I walked through my Chicago neighborhood with a mother's
ease and grace.
Teddy, what cruel fates took you away?
You, stolen at a party~ my little girl heart still misses her furry,
agape!
Decades have come, moons and seasons, too.
But in my heart, dearest,Teddy, I will always miss the comfort
of holding, furry, comforting, you!
2/5/2021
~1~
Do you have a toy you loved
and lost, too?
If so, would share that with us?
Panagiota