Short Suds Poems

surge of a shower, urgently nudging the suds to roll off shoulder...

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tile crackin'
suds-n-bubbles
baby laughing

laughter draining
baby straining
magic into mayhem...

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.

Water bubbles runs across
The stainless steel pan
Rinses the suds away
Memories remain though...

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Bubbles float through air
same as always year by year
simply,charming, suds


Copyright McCuen 2009...

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Flowing liquid rolls
Foaming suds wash sand…retreat
Beaches too, get cleaned.
...

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If the 'Soup' were a 'Soap'
and poems became suds,
Would one feel clean and refreshed
climbing out of the tub?...

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Star berry soap suds
midnight moon as my witness
River skin shoulders
shivering a quiet cool
lapsing into liquid pools~...

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A woman who dresses in suds
Does not really need any duds
Without being mean
She's easy to clean 
But do keep an eye out for studs!...

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She's a nice warm bath
Fold yourself into her suds
Relax joyfully

He's a nice warm bed
Wrap yourself in his embrace
Enjoy a deep sigh...

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Frothing and foaming delight 
Out late almost every night 
Amber to seasoned ale 
Quick hurl in the pail  
Next morning gunna need a Sprite...

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Slowly swishing scented suds, spellbound Shel’s sultry, sexy sweetheart


10/22/2019
Tautogram Poems Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Eve Roper...

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My horse Anheuser used to be a stud
  Aging poorly, now races in the mud
    When his tail goes swish
    I grant him his wish
  And draw him a bath of Budweiser suds...

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A maiden fair
  would never dare
    expose her hairy chest
 
  She likely would rather
  swathe it in suds and lather ~
    then cut it all off and drink it right down...

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The soap
washing the cloth
scrubing with fervent might
yet dirt remains .

Soap consumed,
suds swirling round
but the dirt
does not go .

Then,washing remained
as an art only.
...

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Jolly jolly jackrabbit
	Hopping down the aisle
Nesting in my flight jacket
	With a happy smile.

Gimme gimme milk duds
	Gimme gimme fire
Bathing in the soap suds
	Singing in the choir....

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As reeling day, oblivious
Sinks, bubble bubble
That which had given rise to
A sea of trouble

With suds and merry-making's
Danced fervour combined 
For an equivalent distress
Is put out of mind....

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Sad, but too true,
No one waits for me and you,
Lo, but hark!
Washing's there in the dark,
In the morning glow,
Washing suds are soon aflow,
Yes, women of the world,
Washing still waits for every girl!...

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An artistic  aurA
Resides in a jaR
I smell BacardI 
Eager   to  tastE
Satisfying  sudS



______________________
* An acrostic on both ends.
Inspired by Danielle White's 
Acrostic Astrology contest....

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OMO in the windows
On Coronation Street
Clued the milkman and the postman
Would be welcomed with a treat

Those days are long forgotten
Because the Tide has changed
The Milkman's gone forever
And our postman is deranged...

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Shoulder to sturdy shoulder
  solid white workhorses
    soak, whirl and twirl
      water whooshing
        suds slushing

Gleaming metal centrifuges
tumble, toss and turn stiff rags 
  their wild ride ended
  ~ soft now, they're tossed in a bag...

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Running down your chin 
warm on my shoulder; 
Vanilla candles; 
Water full of suds 
soaking each other; 

 In the bathtub 
rejuvenate,  
lips touching mine; 
Scented ripples 

cascading 
head to toe;
Just lie back;

Relax,
sponges

soothe ....

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The little ghost loved the washer, so much, he could not get enough.
He liked tumbling in suds among sweaters, blouses and stuff.
You can enjoy it all day, his mother said. I know you like to be clean.
But make yourself invisible, so you will not be noticed or seen....

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Washing spinning suds
Watching. Thinking on spring things
Carnations in strict 
Formation and blue roses
Poses on balconies.

With BLINDING beauty 
All are blooming and smell of
Fruity confessions
With their beauty fragrant
Fruity concessions they are

Doing their duty making
Life a lovelier WORLD...

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Old john crow was dirty as a coal mine canary. 
So, they tossed him into a bucket of suds.
Scrubbed him up and down for decades.
He smelled nicer-looked cleaner for a while.
but the grime wormed its way deep into his insides.
The echo of old john crow never stopped cawing. 
Because old john crow never really died....

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The sun sets
Rolling sluggishly
In the exiting tide

There is a joy to it
Frolicking in the froth
Of soap suds surf

We play our parts
In the evening reverie
Dancing alone

Shadows
Carried away
Like rolling stones

Distant bells
Peal
In soft darkness

I walk away
Leaving
My presence

John G. Lawless
©8/13/2023...

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