Long Wettest Poems
Long Wettest Poems. Below are the most popular long Wettest by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Wettest poems by poem length and keyword.
Although I am a ***** white Queen
let me reassure you
I can be just as mean
or as green,
Mr. Clean,
as any fascist
conjured in your wildest
wettest dream.
I can kick my ruby RightWing heels
and hold my greenly skanky breath
as long as it takes, tis true,
until you eventually agree
to turn less boring white
and unenlightened blue
It's true,
I can spread my fascist net,
get in line with Straight White Men
with penile envy
of dark-skinned vets
you never could acknowledge seeing
in the singing shower
much less slurping
in your homophobic panic
nastiest place to hide
just yet.
Although a ***** male Queen
married to the blackest man
you've ever seen,
You may rest re-assured
I've clearly found it true
as red
white
and blushing blue:
Once a person
and a nation
has tried black,
There's a whole lotta happy folk
don't care to go back
to refight a civil war
against a white flight bully bore
Supremely self-chosen evangelists,
y'all just help me
deeply snore.
You think
and feel,
know
and spiel,
I'm rotten to my core
because, like your sissy sister
it's men this male adores
But, if men were good enough
for your sainted mother,
and hers too,
and my two,
let me introduce this thought
to you
It wouldn't really make you
all that blue
to admit just maybe
all that pleasure
could suit a special man just fine
too,
But, don't worry,
be happy,
I'm not the least bit hot
for white bread
RightWing you.
It’s true, the afternoon is young;
I’ll make a bet:
Before the sun has set,
Strawberries will have sprung
From underneath your tongue.
Delectable, yes, tres delish
You won’t forget:
Exceeded, not just met,
Beyond your wildest wish,
A creamy berry dish.
The finest, richest creams -
The forest elves
Again outdid themselves:
Confectionary dreams
From unicorns, it seems.
In fields of magic dust,
Wild-grown berries
Picked by woodland fairies:
A culinary must,
A name the elvish trust.
Sweet crystals, careful mined
Where dragons roar,
Demanding always more.
By serpent’s fire refined,
Then stolen from them blind.
Stirred over elvish flame,
The paddles turned
By giant ogres, learned
Before before the dark lord came
and sullied their great name.
Quick-flashed in icy streams,
Both fluff and stiff,
A jazzy berry riff,
With old world notes it teems,
A tastebud’s wettest dreams.
Alas, we must regroup!
Supply chain blues,
There is no time to lose:
Store-bought, pink berry goop -
Perhaps a double scoop?
—————
for the Ice Cream Poetry Contest
sponsored by Julia Ward
written 06/21/2022
Wettest dewdrop hangs soundless on the edge
Of flashy, cheerful orange red lily
Mirroring emerald green foliage
Balanced close by, aimless, o’er the beauty
Dew drenched pea green shrubbery is carefree
With bright and showy blooms seen everywhere
Bold blue purple and yellow or cherry
Beside soft pinks and deep, dark red fanfare
Exquisite colored hues caught by prayer
Leaving murky shadows across lush grass
Light summer breeze falls across thoroughfare
Caressing, softly touching to surpass
Mild morning dew carries soft melodies
Contented moments spent with elegies
Written on August 10th, 2014
©2014 by Regina Riddle
i am way too hyped to think
i see it and i am entranced
it is not an infomercial
it is not an advertisement
it is not even the wettest of dreams
it is the real thing....right in front of my eyes....live and in color
my heart begins to pound
my mouth falls to the doggone floor
i feel splinters in my bottom lip, but right now i am impervious to pain
i start with a fast walk
then i begin a light sprint
then i run Run RUn RUN with no regard for regards
i suddenly stop abruptly when i am there
the comfort and the consumption begins to ease all my stresses away
i look at the whole of the horizon
i feel as if i am home in this oblivious paradise
i am way to Lost In Love sense
There were slimy spotted frogs jumping out of the oaks,
Slickest yellow raincoats worn by the bravest of folks.
And giraffes trying to hide in the daisy flowers.
While we were saturated with April showers.
There were earthworms as large as giant red fire trucks
Oozing and itching their way down the green grass
Rapidly squirming their way down the sidewalks of mucks.
Shinier than slimy wet spit on holiday glass.
It was the wettest spring I had ever seen.
The neighbors were so wet, they truly turned into mean.
It became even more wet in my backyard
When three hippopotamuses named Jack, Joe and Jard.
Escaped city zoo, and ran to my little known place.
They were mean to each other, slapping each face.
They tried to sit daintily on my pond’s lily pad.
Flooding my house, and making me really mad.