I have a manic heart.
It’s not made of the real stuff.
Just gelatin, sprinkles, and glaze.
Fake like cracked tiles (don’t believe them.)
I have a manic heart.
I dropped everything like it was her birthday cake.
No one died, I hope.
They just gasped and cried because I had done it (plop.)
I have a manic heart.
Does it remember lists, names, or random junk?
Like a cardboard box grunting.
I hate the real stuff, the golden, sopping stuff.
I have a manic heart.
Tried to surrender once.
I have a manic heart.
Maybe twice.
~ for Aokigahara - souls wandering ~
jade canopy
waving while it whispers
the lush secret, compelled
delicious word of myriad words
casting shadowed merriment at a
woven briar carpet …
( colored strings, winding ... waiting )
tangled labyrinth,
so deep and dark that dew still
clings at mid-day
leafy tresses tickling azure
sopping sun like thirst -
bright and warm above
straight trunks like
steady soldiers …
fingery tendrils
burrow deep to find purchase
ruddy earth, cool as rime
rich with rooty rot -
nature's marrow
to breathe the branches
( Fuji's frilly garden skirt )
listen, tender ...
soft now, the hush of mys'tries
this forest bides all, yet
stars still glisten its black heart
desire, a mossy coat ...
dour ... waiting
hear the voice, low,
the breath of breaths, murmuring -
it begs, come ...
in a thousand gentle lullabies
with the language of the
ages and the ends …
( voice sweet as death )
it calls to
the misty meandering
one dire dalliance
grandest adventure of all -
the dazzling dream that never …
wakes.
the bungee cords are wet
the newspaper is sopping, so we throw it out
six cardboard boxes are saturated
it has been raining for three days
two mosquitos have already dive bombed me
I am doing my best to kill these Kamikaze pilots
these blood eaters will not leave me alone
they finally drive me back into the house
I am such a wimp
99 degrees on that parking lot, felt like 110,
no breeze, nothing to cool ears
as they swiveled on a sopping neck.
There she was -
pushing a lightly filled cart
across an asphalt desert.
I'm too young for her,
40 years since my brain woke up.
I was born in my mid-thirties,
problem is, when you are born in your mid-anything
the linear roll of time tends to wobble a lot,
moments drift in and out of you
as if you were an abandoned vehicle.
where only mice may nest.
Half a mile from the crematorium
a pub sells English beer,
I'm just resting there now,
dipping a tired mind
into cold froth.
Never suspected on meeting her so soon,
I was not ready for an eternal romance,
she also had forgotten her place in time.
Old crone eyes looked at me
through a newly minted face.
In many ways, that dry-roasted parking lot
could have been hell,
but for a while we were in a brand-new heaven
our carts coming together
for a long, knowing kiss.
.
we'd walk
'long the beech'iz
sand
sopping
from the sea'z
visit
'neath ourn
thankful
toez
pondering
her digit's manicure
tickling mine
psalm
the crack uv dawn'z
nectarine glow
arouse'n
mine think's
crisp
hern
goose's bumps
Today’s the kind of rain that causes
Rivers in the street
And when you cross, you’re bound to
Wet your toesies and your feet.
The puddles quickly turn to lakes,
Perhaps to raise a flood
And every garden’s sure to find
Its dirt bed turned to mud.
Windshield wipers can’t keep up;
Umbrellas funnel drips
And back at home, with sopping clothes,
Most everybody strips.
Today’s a day to cozy up,
If you’ve no pressing chores,
And remind yourself you’re lucky
That you get to stay indoors.
weather’s
trying
humid
hazy
has me
sighing
feeling
lazy
temps not
dropping
sweat is
pooling
clothes are
sopping
we crave
cooling
autumn’s
coming
respite
bringing
I’ll be
humming
praising
singing!
Back I go retracing steps.
Against the tide I must tread,
Following the arrows down in reverse.
Each arrow head points back to moments gone,
To a time before the dawn of days past.
The footprints I must retread
Lead backwards on the path trod.
Heel to toe carefully placed in reverse,
To echo the way I felt at each step.
To unravel the memories woven.
Rewinding your life's design,
Sopping up past tears you shed,
Muting the cries with rags and sound proofing,
Pulling back from embraces hugs and kisses.
Is the toughest part of these retraces.
With each step, a tale unfurls,
Of joys and sorrows retold,
Where songs I knew, old and new are unsung.
I walk through gardens which were once in bloom,
Where flowers long since withered, met their doom,
This journey back to the past,
Rejigs it, to could have been!
Horrible
Soured scent
Spills forth from
Sopping wet
Old carpet
Now that rain
Has gone, left
Its too late
Too avoid
O life, in plasma form! O red stream in my veins!
Cells, platelets, tissues, fibers, water, and salts wrapped!
O, you who carry oxygen to my each cell!
O, you who maintain minute warmth of my body!
O, you who clean my body's Carbon Di Oxide!
O, you who heal instantly inner injuries!
Sopping up and transferring dietary stuffs,
From peptic canal to my tissues constantly;
Pulsating my physique heartthrob incessantly,
O, you who keep me alive, alert, and active...!
Entwined with beliefs, rites and rituals vast,
My ancestors and descendants you bind steadfast;
You establish relationships based on your flow,
Fuse father, mother, brothers, and sisters in row...!!!
16 March 2023
B--Forms and Words Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Sotto Poet
As a child, I played on the banks of a stream
Snaring crawdads and fetching smooth pebbles,
While my shoes and socks became sopping wet.
Wading in the water until I’d be soaking wet
In summer I liked the coolness of the stream,
Selecting and sorting my collection of pebbles.
Smooth and quartz-like were my favorite pebbles
I would pocket them while they were still wet
Until I was through playing in the stream.
I still have pebbles I took wet from that stream.
Written November 9, 2022
Meet vain, clueless Vaughn, introvert
he offers a drink, he's alert.
Bold Brenda comes on
with kisses for Vaughn;
wine spills on his brand-new white shirt.
He grabs for a towel in a sec
and sopping, finds arms ‘round his neck.
What’s next? more or less,
I’ll leave to your guess.
when spring air blows across Vaughn's deck.
February 16, 2022
host: Mohan Chutani
contest: Spring in Air
Water rises in damp clouds above the falls
Red from the old grist mill reflecting through
The backlighting sunshine causing ethereal
Rainbow-like patterns in the mistiness, while
I watch the gigantic wheel fling cold water
Downstream where it plunges into the murk,
Creating a deep hole not suitable for diving
And too dangerous for children to swim in, so,
I slip my bare feet over the moss-covered ledge
Dangling them above the stream’s updraft,
Watching them come soaking wet and clean
At the end of my sopping brand new jeans.
written November 5, 2021
Wednesday's the middle of the sandwich
equidistant from weekends -- unhitched
Plenty of room for all those toppings
ketchup, mayo and rain showers -- she's sopping
How unjust, other days' inequitable ways
they'd blanch at my nickname of 'Hump Day'...
Alas, ignominy grinds on; the day's not yet over
~ Tomorrow's Thursday, that four-leaf clover
didn't
i look up
hoping to
see the sky fall
you ignore down
is its opposite
writing from the grooves
that print my fingers
i see the hapiness
i could have goat
did he mean got
caught a splinter of light in fingered tips
rode an autumn leaf
on its way down the drain
Upstart starts up
i write of crysal shape cities
trapped within the concrete at my feet
i write of ring arose
with clouds of differing greys
of eyes with nothing behind
cuts and bruises outline
my prone
trying to never learn
writing lies the truth wont turn
did ya miss me
should have bought better scopes
Sneak behind you with unsheathed pen
your sopping bled
just fuel-topical or what
for my quill
will to not have one
Upping daisies in liquid green
as breeze trickles by each blades
never use my mind to fight
all you unarmed
the buzzing fly in attic space
where from side slanted windows
moon fingers
from an empty box
pull and pool
with lines of light
dancing dust fairies
diamondize in its gentle stroke
this poem has a lot of ups and downs
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.