Long Sudsy Poems
Long Sudsy Poems. Below are the most popular long Sudsy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sudsy poems by poem length and keyword.
In another lifetime, I was there
As sudsy clothes, a’jumble,
Went round and round until removed
In damp and twisted tumble.
Into the dryers they would go
While I just sat there, reading,
To help the time go by so boredom
Skulked away, receding.
When dry, the folded sheets and such
Into my cart were nestled
And schlepped to my apartment,
Up five flights I daily wrestled.
We moved within a year to where
Our building’s basement hosted
A bevy of machines to which
An elevator coasted.
Yet when I pass the laundromat
There’s surely no debating
That I don’t miss those days of carts
And inconvenient waiting.
There was a naughty girl, and the naughty girl was she
She worked a crossword puzzle, while she had her morning tea
A second cup, ......she should get up...
for chores and roll her sleeves!
Much work to do, but something new for fun was in the breeze !
Ambition flew, intentions few, were not a thing to please!
Instead of sponges, mops and brooms, she danced about the room
Sudsy dish pans heaping full...the laundry yet to do.........
Instead she called a friend or two, and took in a movie too!
Her bed unmade, her bills unpaid, some folks might call her lazy
She sat in shade, had lemonade, and then she picked a daisy
Beneath a sunny sky
......she heard the lullaby
of the birds that sing on high
She had a meal to cook
but would rather look
at the snowtop hills nearby
So much work undone, and the dinner?......NONE!
But she fed her soul instead!
__________________________________________________________
For Contest: Triple Threat sponsored by Casarah Nance
Worlds Within Worlds
Quick- open up your human hand-
a microbe-laden nasty world
is thriving there clandestinely!
Though most will die with sudsy wash-
not long before more take their place.
Within their unseen realm of space-
in their tight time tween life and death,
they eat, divide- to millions grow
and wait to migrate to new worlds-
through all the human hands you touch.
Sandra M. Haight
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How many germs are on your hands?
It's fair to say a lot of them, particularly if you haven't washed your hands recently. Every time you touch an object or shake someone's hand, you are probably picking up bacteria and potentially viruses too. We're estimated to have around 1,500 bacteria living on each square centimeter of the skin on our hands. Google
the red glow so far away
so close, embraced
the burst of innervated dawn
restraining its awe
the uplift of a lemony-spring
sponge-squeezed from the sudsy sun
the faucet of quiet waters turned off
the aura of a red and white sail on the run
and my day’s just begun
just wait
until the unspooling of the supermoon
the sand dunes of midnight
dreaminess in the lightly rocking socket
infused with Panamanian water lilies
whereas my ears leap at the splash
of oar-rowed canoes
my eyes behold but a shadow of heaven
and i almost die right there and then
in my dugout
i awake to a blue ceiling with stars
hazardly close
unable to breach the barrier reef
i sink into my pillow
in stillness
asleep
6/25/2019
There was a naughty girl, and the naughty girl was she
She worked a crossword puzzle, while she had her cup of tea
Poured another cup, ......she should get up!
for chores and roll her sleeves
She had much work to do, but her good intentions flew
like feathers in a breeze
Instead of mops and brooms, she would sing a cheery tune...
while she danced around the room..
Sudsy dish pans full....but Mother Nature pulled
her to the sunshine for a stroll
Her bed unmade, her bills unpaid,
But instead she picked a daisy
Beneath a sunny sky
......she heard the lullaby
of the birds that sing on high
She had meals to cook
but would rather look
at the snowtop hills nearby
So much work undone, and the dinner?......NONE!
But she fed her soul instead!
_______________________
For Linda Marie's Contest "I Am Bored With _______
By Carrie Richards
In the shower, in the shower
It all hits me with such power
While shampooing my long hair
As I soap up body....fair? ;)
There where laptop's not in sight
Words explode like dynamite!!!
There where my back needs a rub
When I don't dare leave the tub
There in my soapy sudsy best
Words assail me without rest
When I need my legs to shave
Words assault me, strong and brave
While my hands glide here and there
Poetic soul itself will bare
Poems of the "bardy" type
Come to mind with lots of hype
Once I'm done and towel dry
Can't write a thing, though hard I try!
Now I have this silly rhyme
I must increase my shower time
Or have someone just sitting there
Who has some time for me to spare
Someone who's fast on the keys
If you're the one, then tell me please
You're hired here, right on the spot
You'll be my scribe, "Forget Me Not."
Eileen
Bar none, no shortage of soap shampoo, nor detergent
Courtesy food pantries
Saint Eleanor's Saint Mary's,
Our Daily Bread,
the missus and yours truly (her spouse)
well stocked with good n plenti of
soap, shampoo and detergent.
Spongebob squarepants
would be in seventh heaven,
where sudsy clouds (resembling
Mister Krabs, Plankton,
Sandy Cheeks, Squidward, et cetera),
would drift across celestial vault.
Gratitude bequeathed to prophets of virtue
benevolent good samaritans
who trend righteous true
to the calling of helping hands who renew
faith (mine) in goodness of humanity
assisting not only yours truly
and the missus, but people
from South American country named Peru
or even indigenous tribes
accorded recognition comprising
population of inhabitants occupying New
Zealand, offered reparations
under the Treaty of Waitangi,
a process of reparation allowed
Maori to be fully recognized
at political level in lieu
of unfair practices inflicted upon
original occupant loosely similar
to descendents of long lost tribes of Israel,
endowed with (pure tin) pride
wishing I too could call myself proud Jew,
nevertheless attraction manifests destiny
(mine) someday to learn Hebrew.
Courtesy atheism more so Unitarianism,
I need not adopt
an explicit dogmatic, fanatic, humanistic...,
lunatic, narcissistic, puritanic... paradigm,
but only tout poetic justice (mine)
to recognize laudable traits
linkedin to orthodox faiths,
albeit rationalistic rubric
that caters to selflessness
for no other reason
than allowing, enabling, and promoting
random acts of kindness
without any forthcoming great expectation
downplaying remuneration,
no matter destitution begot mein kampf
hard times living within bleak house
slight hyperbolic exaggeration
poor as a cheesy church mouse poet.
Lemme coast to a fitting conclusion
bringing reasonable rhyming blather
originating courtesy me noggin,
within which wool doth gather
thus I a halt and
dial down philosophical lather,
cuz most likely
ye dear reader would rather
experience palmolive oil slather
preparatory to full body massage.
The Art of the Devilish Deal
By Mark D. Stucky
Did Trump sell his soul to the devil in 2016?
As his part of the deal, could he lie, preen, cheat, and tweet?
Could he distort, divide, deny, demean, demolish, and destroy?
Could he make even a pandemic worse through criminal negligence?
Is the devil in the details of the deal?
Trump was understandably loved by hate-spewing supremacists,
but why also by family-values evangelicals?
How could so many lose their minds…and still not regain them?
Were brains washed sudsy clean by social media and Fox News?
If Trump did make the sale, was it an artful deal?
Was he even still using his soul anyway?
Would the devil desire such a shriveled thing?
For a chance to destroy democracy,
wouldn’t Putin and Satan have worked pro bono?
Has anyone’s devilish deal
ever worked well long-term?
What will Trump ultimately do
when that bad soul loan comes due?
(See also my poems "The 2023rd Psalm," "Bathing with Bathsheba," "Antisocial Media," and "Tweeting the Truth in Love.")
(Image by andibreit on Pixabay.)
You look at me and see a northeast highway after winter
Cracked, worn, roughened by conditions not meant to be endured.
I was once the most beautiful cobblestone pathway through a garden of ripe, unpicked fruit.
I was the apple whose sweet center no man could resist tasting
But you see affliction where held addiction.
You think my mind feeble, that thoughts slip through my brain
Like water through a child's fingers in a sudsy, post-playtime bath.
But I was once the network that ran every station in the steel-girded high rise
And ran the split level in the suburbs. I never needed to reboot.
A victim of time, still in her prime.
I look in the mirror and don't understand who that old woman is who gapes back.
I have long blonde tresses and eyes that rival Liz Taylor on her best day.
This, this is a shadow -- a black and white picture version of a colorful scene.
Inside I am 25, still as vibrant as the peacock whose feathers once graced my favorite hat.
I'm a tomb . . . of an ancient bloom.
February 14,2016.
Deprived of life, treeless Earth weep There is no longer Earth.
Rivers, forests, and dying nature; how are we going to save Earth.
And Sudsy waters are too heavily salty to drink by any birth.
Is hapless Earth no longer a planet when all its trees are dearth.
Newly threatened global warming as fossil fuel caused a dirty tarnish.
Erosion of a healthy life is allowed for the sake of fancy house worth.
Domesticated Chickens are the most killed species on Earth.
Off-season rain adds up and snow, but the grass doesn't temper.
For kids, it's the snow that they need and hot cocoa extempore.
And then the sun starts to heat up and burns the flowers again.
Let's all be an asset of the solution in helping to relieve her pain.
Lets the process dive in progressively; it is time to awaken.
World of peace; this is a picture that represents optimism, not dope.
All we could do to improve this world, especially for our kid's hope.
Though if we have screwed up, have mercy on those we have mope.
Every day, Earth suffers; water is dwindling; how can we cope?
Running away from our current calamity is plundering the Earth without scope.
Written: May 8, 2021
Planet Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Matt Caliri