Long Tub Poems
Long Tub Poems. Below are the most popular long Tub by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tub poems by poem length and keyword.
sitting in a hot tub looking at the view
waiting for you
to come home
my mind tends to roam
knowing that it will be a few more days
i am missing all of your unique ways
this big ole house is not the same
my body feels limp and oh so lame
i wanna call you every hour on the hour
i never thought a woman could possess so much power
i guess i am loving you the more i miss you
i feel the permanence of happiness everyday when i'm with you
i do not care if i cramp up or my skin peels
it does not compare to how your thick and warm body feels
i guess i am becoming quite the softy in my old age
since you came into my life you heat up every cold page
now here i am all whipped and missing your pretty presence
i am loving the feeling of being caught in your reverence
i am now goofily smiling while humming a cheesy tune
i then suddenly whisper 'baby please come home soon'
sitting in a hot tub looking at the view
naked, warm, and inspired....waiting for you
10 boudin sausages or
14 strips of bacon (diced and sauteed brown)
2 Pheasants ready to cook
1 teaspoon of salt
3 tablespoons of dry thyme
1 teaspoon of cayenne
1/4 cup of roasted red bell peppers
1/4 cup of either diced fennel bulb or celery
1 &1/2 cups of whole mushrooms
2/3 cups of diced onions
3 Tablespoons of crushed garlic
1/4 teaspoons of nutmeg
1/4 teaspoons of mace
1 tablespoon of honey
1/4 cup of vermouth
1/4 cup of (in a juicer; juice one ginger root, 1 sweet potatoes, 1 apple and 1 cluster of grapes 1 lemon)
4 cups of vegetable stock
1 teaspoon of liquid smoke
in a hollowed pumpkin seeded and clean place the
sausage in fist and the pheasants on top
cover with vegetable's add stock and wine and sweet potatoes juice
bake for about 1 hour ten minutes or until done!
or cut the peel and cut the pumpkin and put everything in a roasting pan
cover with foil.
remove everything from the pumpkin
make a gravy with the drippings set aside
scrap the pumpkin flesh and mix into
3 cups of mashed potatoes with cream and butter.
slice the pheasant of breakdown ito parts cut sausages into slices.
remove mushrooms, peppers and onions mix with
cooked cabbage and mustard green mix(top with some store bought
pumpkin seeds)
Love,
I want it to pour all over me.
Instead
Here I lay,
exposed, vulnerable, embittered
NAKED
locked away from the world
In my bathtub
Closing my eyes, before the water pours over my head.
Inhaling before the water envelops me
Toes curling the porcelain edge
Wondering,
Do I even have it in me again?
To love, to open yourself up,
to the great above.
Can you really wash away, and forget, all your past dismay?
Should I let in Love?
The kind that
would pour all over me,
Like the
cat who stretches out, unafraid.
Purring, drinking in, the golden sunbeam it calls home.
Love,
The kind that cascades
Through my hair, gracefully trickling over my eyes.
Dripping down the nape of my neck,
Kissing my chest
Making me sigh.
The comfortable kind, where you can just be.
Be yourself,
SIMPLY happy.
hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.
If I could just freeze frame this moment,
and it would be real.
Not just fleeting, you know when the water just ends up being cold. Making you shiver.
But no,
I want to feel real LOVE, pour into my heart,
lifting me up, bringing out the best in me
Cleansing my soul.
For, I do not wish to be this bitter girl anymore.
LOVE
Drip,
Drip
Drip
Drop
Your thoughts, grow intensely
when your thinking deeply about troublesome Love.
Sooner or later the bubbles in the bath pop,
And you realize, no matter what enough will never be enough
and you haven't given up.
There is a point, where you just have to know when to get right back into the tub. Just
lean back, and close your eyes. Let the steam rise. Feel your hair stick to your face,
just have faith. That love will pour all over you,
If you are not afraid.
Love is a journey, love is a surprise, love is heartache, and love is divine.
Form:
16-bar blues progression
"There cackling could be heard
throughout the area
we smiled hearing joke after Joke.
They have a great repore,offering enough
time for both character and audeince
to hear and understand the disposition
of the actor and the joke."
Signed By;
"The Villinous Minion"
Mackinac;Mackinaw it is same as this is a jacket.
He then smiled, might he
tire from begging to then have you
lonely in need of one
to chore.
This in reference to her husband
who had noticed that she had become
withdrawn and lacked
interest in him.
He began to look to other people
might he relieve himself of
her romantic -tresonismist ways.
The actions of a whore is neither smart
or keen. It reflects nothing
and is sourced from the need of
being rebellious.
Prior to marriage he had been ousted as
the key-player in his then woman life
she thought he'd keep her as a woman
ply to say he had a wife, he thought she
was ridiculous and was receiving information on how
to treat him from those less attracted to him.
To undermine him was easy; to
reconcilable with him: "she loevd the attention said
one of these Women"Genshin the forbidden formula
for the most demonistic sound in song.
MEMO:
Happiness and Furfillment
can be acheived in Love
when two people who are able to
meet under their own conditions
and create together as one.
Fun In The Tub
In the bath tub, I relax from the day.
The hot water from the tap does evenly spray
I put in the bubbles and froth them all up
Light me some candles and get a romantic book.
I slip in the bubbles and they cling everywhere
All soft on my skin all waiting to share
Every inch of my body all covered in bubbly froth
The steam in the room if it were smoke I would cough.
I lay and relax all sensuous lying in bath tub heaven.
When someone shouts up the stairs
“Get a move on will you, its way after seven,
I want some food and a drink and I need to use the loo
Unless I come up and get in with you?”
My heavenly bath is over, I ascend rather quick
I know what he’s after, I know every trick.
I’m out and I’m dressed before he ascends the stairs
“Oh I thought you were in the tub I was after your wares.”
My wares are all gone covered up like a nun
I’m not in the mood for any of his fun,
I watch him strip off down to his smalls
He slips in the baths where I have used some bath balls
I scrub his back gently as he likes me too
And yes you have guessed it I’m now in there too.
I am standing in
the laundry tub
thinking
as I look out
the window
something is wrong
with this picture
that you now
have of me........... ?
It is a question
of a created
image
and the perceived
consequences
It is a reference to
the Christmas approaching
yet again
and
as we ponder and
get caught up in
the hurricane of
end of season activities
parties, functions
buying presents
organizing holidays
booking accommodation
checking cars, boats, caravans....... ?
We block out
eliminate
the real reason
for all this
mayhem
Jesus Christ was born
to save us from
all this....... ?
Still standing in
the laundry tub
one foot on the ladder
the other in the tub
to finish painting this
window
of opportunity
this rare raw but real moment
where heaven comes to earth
in this moment where
eternity is
and it really is
graciously given
for all of humanity
Now my foot is getting wet
the tap is dripping..... ?
It will all wash out
as we are cleansed
in the laundry tub
of Christmas.
The Hot Tub
The shiver as the air curls around my chest
The tremble of the shoulders as I try to rest
The greyness of the sky encroaching on our peace
The feeling of pleasure growing that we are about to release
The heat of the water as we can say - ha ha to you
We are not going to be downed by this new winters blues
We get our kit off and rush outside, shivering naked as when we were born
Into the hot tub we do jump before the neighbours scorn
An hour or two with a glass of white wine
Watching the stars as they twinkle divine
A shooting star across the sky
We watch it pass in the blink of an eye
Sitting here under the stars, feeling very small
And looking at that creation and the wonder of it all.
Sangria in the hot tub
Soaking all alone
On a cold winter’s evening
In the backyard of my home
Shooting stars cross the sky
I’m amazed by every one
With a sangria in the hot tub
Soaking all alone
Sangria in the hot tub
Soaking all alone
My wife has retired to bed
And so has my little son
The alcohol and hot water recalls
My sins I can atone
With a sangria in the hot tub
Soaking all alone
Sangria in the hot tub
Soaking all alone
The jets massage my muscles
Wine relaxes my tired bones
I sit here thinking up rhyming words
For this silly song
With a sangria in the hot tub
Soaking all alone
I see North Africa
Through a little girl’s eyes
Continental ignorance
Stagnant in their reflection
Oppression
Like sinuous flames
In the heat of their arid deserts
I see America
With its once prolific economy
One man
It tumbled all
Two elections – “it’s all your fault!”
Teetering precariously, waiting…
For Obama to hold it together
I see Europe
Where art thou now?
Hiding like politicians – fools they are
Come out, come out
Where ever you are
Bush needs his poodles
Ha Ha Ha!
You’re all in this together
Manipulating each other
Pretending to need the UN more than the other
Who’s ruling the UN Bush or its general secretary
Britain cannot criticize, they ruled the League of Nations
You’ll never step up to the plate
And be manly enough
To take the blame for the world’s disastrous fate.
In the cold tub, at ten-thirty in the morning, I float like a wreck after a week of drinking and gambling,
My body trembles, my mind is a dense fog, when suddenly the phone rings like a bell in an empty church.
A young voice, a folk singer, tells me she has kicked out her boyfriend, his clothes flying out the window like lost birds,
I explain the cycle of love, a mad carousel of closeness and separation, a song endlessly repeating in the heart of time.
She asks if I want to hear her new song, and I, naked and wet, sit on the edge of the couch like on the edge of life's abyss,
My thoughts are as dirty as the bathwater, but I laugh at her funny lyrics, an old and tired clown's mask.
I tell her I like it, a white lie like the foam of the whiskey I later swallow, an antidote for my poisoned soul,
I promise to keep in touch, but the words are as empty as my pockets after a day at the racetrack, where luck deserted me again.
Six hours later, I am poorer by five hundred dollars, the money evaporated like my hopes for a better future,
I approach the phone, a tempting serpent of communication, but I leave it untouched, no one wants to hear a loser’s complaints.
The radio plays a sad song, the perfect mirror of my weary soul, defeated by my own inner demons,
The darkness of the bedroom swallows me, and I sink into it like a sea of regrets and madness, a castaway of my own life.
I lie in bed and stare into the void, lost in the labyrinth of my own mind, a Minotaur trapped in his own chaotic creation,
The thoughts spin like racehorses on an infinite racetrack, without a winner, without an end, just an eternal and futile race.
I am once again madly bound, caught between the walls of harsh reality and shattered dreams, a prisoner of my own choices,
A poet of despair, a singer of failure, a master of self-destruction in this crazy world that spins without me.