Short Spit Up Poems
Short Spit Up Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Spit Up by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Spit Up by length and keyword.
He swallowed vanity whole,
spit up rhododendrons,
gasped at greasepaint fingerprints—
his own—
finally saw himself:
Clown.
this friendship
it holds me
until i hold your hand
if or when i spit up butterflies
from being trapped
in your warm embrace
soaked by heavy rains
weighed down by my most prized possessions
my contst pom - compliant son!
Oh son, I pity you try but fail
In Biology, lizards, rats have tail
I told, mug up ,vomit words
You'll pass, you'll fly high as birds
In quiz, Madam said, you spit up a snail?!
12th October 2016
’Twas Jonah the Lord God did teach,
When orders he opted to breach.
God’s porpoise not thwarted,
Escape was aborted,
With Jonah spit up on the beach.
If the fish had refused God right then,
Having tasted the flavor of men,
An immoral cetacean
That fell from creation,
Or a case of Original Fin?
If you are squeamish
you may not be ready to be a mother
babies are messy and smelly
their odors are horrible
they spit up and squirt out
your clothes will never be the same
toddlers eat dirt, sand and bugs.
there is no time to be finicky or prissy
the average person consumes eight spiders a year
in their sleep,
knowing this might make motherhood easier.
Venomous eloquence,
so polite and yet cold;
Pleasantries are plastic
tone sometimes mistaken;
Quiet not dramatic;
Venomous eloquence,
answer’s already known;
Words are a figurehead;
Each one is meaningless,
your heart infiltrated;
Venomous eloquence
it leaves your throat sticky;
Esophagus left trashed,
innards being spit up;
Poisonous and polished.
My shirt is splotched with spit-up,
Though my shoulder sports a burper.
My clothes are like a kingdom
And my grandson's the usurper.
He drinks his bottle, gives a burp
And then, without a doubt,
A quarter of what just went in
Comes, like a fountain, out.
I really do not mind, but learned
My lesson, truth be told -
When I'm with Henry, what I wear
Is faded, frayed or old!
I'm old,
I'm Grey,
I'm in the way,
You push me to the side!
I hurt!
I sleep!
And seldom eat!
I just cant wait to die.
I'm wrinkled,
I sweat,
I somehow met,
The demon thats inside,
I read,
I squint,
Without a hint,
I Just cant wait to die.
My cat he sits,
And purrs all day,
I pat his lovely fur.
The temperature is eighty six,
But I sure say a burr.
I cough,
I hack,
And spit up blood,
It comes out all dark red,
My feet they hurt,
My hands do to,
I wish i was a dead.