Long Wash off Poems
Long Wash off Poems. Below are the most popular long Wash off by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Wash off poems by poem length and keyword.
There was a child who ran wild
Who was born into fragments broken pieces styled
Locks without rocks book without fiction
Played cops robbers toys pulled with friction
He liked mud pies bean pies rock spot and trial sized chocolate bits with thick Caramel sooth sailing mixed
He liked climbing hills with Bill Bad cowboy and all his donkeys
Talk trash with no cash climb trees with monkeys
Play imaginary Dallas state star gazed would sunk see
Drowning toys tied with strings go home you monkey
The rock slide he rides Rushed hours to the thigh while mother called Tommy boy Back in the house as the sun went down
His clothes were literally drowned
Playtime debris chocolate on his knee
Every toy imaginary could be
Put up for another time eat carrots to tell time
Water was calling to wash off residue
Sheets set to a dial tone that told Tommy not to move
Deep sleep it would be end travels do sing
But covers pulled back and sang Tommy to sleep
They say it is a thirteen barcoded book.
A description of names
Some even have a lengthy explanation about the links it has “the birthplace, the birthright and reasons why one is born”, but with me.
Mine is confusion.
It is spiritual links I know nothing about and lovers who constantly leave and walk away.
It is teachers, teachings I have learned nothing from.
I with it seek who I am, my being, my soul, and the God in me.
I seek solace and the truth about happiness.
I see on pictures “Happy couples, I see complete family picture frames” and seek my place in the world to fit in.
I dived in amongst the trout and no one was there to pull me out.
I go deep underwater trying to drown my emptiness with hopes that my feet could reach the ground.
A thirteen barcoded book made me copy lifestyles making me wash off my soul introducing me to people I want to love.
Poet
Masego Nkuna
All good deeds stem from a belief
That we can effect change and bring relief
To people in need or those in grief
Hope gives us motive, to be brief
Eternal springs hope in the human breast
To this the lives of great folks best attest
No hope and life’s heart will forthwith arrest
Hope sends you high atop life’s crest
None but the hopeful can weather life
In troubled times and in strife
When despair pours in thick and rife
Cut through it fast with hope’s knife
In darkness find a ray of hope
To help you with problems cope
Wash off doldrums with the soap of hope
Get up afresh and up your lope
Lynne is a cute girl with a calico skirt
Hanging clothes on the line, to wash off the dirt
She is observed by a young lad visiting called Bert
What is her name? He asked his loving Aunt Gert
Aunt Gert went to the window and looked to see
That girl by the clothesline? She belongs to Dolly Lee
But what is her name? Asked Bert, who wanted to know.
You cannot go out there, she would be embarrassed so.
But why? Asked Bert, as he continued to stare
Because said his auntie, Lynne has curlers in her hair
This was in the old days, when etiquette was real.
When being caught with pajamas or curlers was a big deal
[Continued from ‘Terror Bugs: Part 5 - A Freezer Mice Adventure’]
__________
Epilogue
The spaceship’s crew - three man size shrews - paced slowly fore to aft
Stanley’s mum said, “Sorry for your poor forsaken craft.
Surely we could cleanse it of the carnage and the gore
I have access to vinegar, the white kind, and much more.”
Churchill said, “Look, Mrs Dann, those bugs had acid blood
The only way we’ll save our ship is one more mighty flood
But Noah only built one ark: Your Lord will not deliver.”
Stanley said, “We’re by the Thames… I hear that it’s a river.”
***
Throughout the universes and the galaxies they knew
Breathing apparatus exercises had been few
But half a dozen tides had scoured their sunken craft of gore
So Churchill, in his scuba gear, set course toward the shore
His friends would be delighted that the ship would fly again
It’s slimy film of river mud would wash off in the rain
He thought about the banquet that the Terror Bugs would be
As their mutilated bodies washed their way down to the sea
On the river’s muddy bank a gull pecked rancid meat
Churchill gasped for as he watched the gull grew six new feet
It jettisoned its feathers and it sprouted jet black hair
A single phaser blast destroyed the seagull then and there
Instantly, a throng of creeping critters found the feast
Emerging from the mud, a prawn became a savage beast,
It turned and mauled a red eyed dog to mute its manic barks
And Churchill had to ask himself, “Do British seas have sharks?”
He was dying of thirst, not much strength left within,
when suddenly, a water hole appeared only yards before him.
He rose to hs feet and ran towards his salvation,
enthused with the greatest of anticipation,
when out from the bush charged a pride of lions.
The dominant female sprang upon him,
biting, clawing, kicking, scratching.
He thought to himself, "This is NOT how it all ends!."'
Fueled with adrenalin, his survival instint kicked in.
He shoved his entire arm down the throat of the attacking lion,
and when the lioness backed off to prevent herself from gagging,
the man roared his loudest and charged at the lion.
The lioness never encountered behavior like this before,
and ordered the pride to retreat with one thunderous roar.
He watched as the pride vanished beyond the horizon,
and could not believe his good fortune.
"I guess," he thought boastful, "I am the true lion king,
but with my luck, these wounds will be my death of infection.
I best wash off now with a quick swim."
That's when the crocodile got a hold of him.
Short lived was the reign of the true lion king.
IF I COULD SPEND A DAY WITH YOU...
If I could spend a day with you, I'd be happy,
we'd never get enough of each other's company.
Our poems and write-ups will embrace unity.
Our inks will make love in the nights enmity
as we stain the sheet with creativity.
We'd hold hands strolling with a coffee,
grip each other in timeless euphoria like a trophy;
But you're worthier than all the biggest trophies.
Kissing is your art, I'd paint you with kisses,
And bask in the glory of heavenly drizzles,
Write you a poem that'll rain beautiful tears
Off your hazy eyes that'll wash off your fears.
I'd wipe away your tears when you feel blue,
every day, I'd tell how much I cherish you
I'd stare into your eyes, & without a single word,
We'd flipped feelings over the board.
If I could spend a day with you,
there is no height we wouldn't scale through,
I'll be your chandelier & make your night colorful,
leave an impression, I'd make you gleeful,
the holy grail is to make you esctatically happy.
I'd cuddle your brain & crack you up in a jiffy,
telling riddles & tales about motherland, Africa.
And when my day is spent & our bond bigger,
I'd made you more happier and freakier,
a memento of our memories rises at every flicker.
Reminisce our memiors now and forever.
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Form: Rhymes
Copyright ©? March 2023.
Your touch still lives in my skin,
a sickness that hums beneath every breath.
I hate it —
the way it crawls back,
the way my body remembers
when my mind screams no.
Sometimes the noise inside is too loud,
and I do small, desperate things
to quiet it.
I chase a different kind of ache,
one I can control —
a pain that belongs to me.
It never lasts.
The silence breaks again,
and I’m left shaking,
hollow,
counting the seconds
until the ghosts fade.
If I could tear out the memory, I would.
If I could wash off the feeling of you,
I’d drown it in light.
But it clings,
and I keep breathing through the sickness,
waiting for the world
to finally go quiet.
There’s tons of fun things you can do on the farm,
like bucking bales of hay or cleaning the barn.
Or milking the cows and feeding the chickens,
working the garden where the beans need picking.
Or on top of the roof replacing the tin,
trying to find where the water’s getting in.
Maybe out on the tractor mowing the hay,
with the hot sun’s beating down on you all day.
When the sun finally sets down in the west,
you can start to slow down and take a short rest.
Now all winded and burned and hungry as hell,
wash off the cow dung before the dinner bell.
Sitting on the front porch beneath the moonlight,
with lightning bugs flashing like stars in the night.
A cool gentle breeze flowing over the land,
while you sit in your chair holding your wife's hand.
The scent of wildflowers filling up your head,
drifting in through the window beside your bed.
You lay your head down but before you can sleep,
you pray that this is the life you'll always keep.
I would want that all to happen for the first time.
I want all these feelings to be washed away.
I want to feel the warmth of the sun for the first time once.
I wanna cry in my mothers arms for the first time once again.
I wanna crawl back into her arms for the first time once again,
Those arms used to take my pain away.
I wanna see the flight of a butterfly for the first time once again;
No wonder that’s a gaze.
I wanna believe in magic for the first time.
I want the tooth fairy to teach me loosing’s a gain,
For the first time once again.
I wanna dance for the first time and feel that fall once again.
I wanna be touched by the love of my life for the first time once again,
But this time I want to be able to wash it all away.
I wanna drain all of my sorrows, I don’t want to be judged on my way.
I don’t wanna drown in the sorrow,
I want to make it happen for the first time all over again.
It’s no wonder I am in search of that first time once again.
I wish, I could, If I could, I would, flush it all away.
I want these unwanted memories to wash off so that,
I can feel it for the first time all over again.