Sponges Poems - Poems about Sponges

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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I wonder if the best way to describe us humans (yes, every other definition you can now expunge) is to simply say, for the record, every human is a sponge. It makes perfect sense when you think about it…if you take the time to graph the composition of a human…water makes up over half. Just look at...

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My towels that fall on its floor Never again cross my door: Always sentenced to Death by burning, The circumstances of one mourning… Or demoted to a shoe rag, Its reacceptance to eternally drag. My sponges that in its slips off my hand Become soldiers missing in action: Some seconds of silence plus military band Followed with ‘Rest in Peace or the notion’ I could...

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Oft I've wondered If sponges were yanked Would all the seas be dry?...

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Does the Sea Suffuse... Does the Sea Perfuse... the sponge? Slipping, sidling in: the Great Outbreath of the far forgot shore; so small now as to be Unimaginable, upwells in swells the Entirety of this sea - and heaves these easy seas from shore to shore as sure as the moon’s dim light is gasped over when its wax is over - when full; when only moonlight lights the matte blacknight. Does the...

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Children are sponges they know their habitat They're very aware. Children listen to all your chats and spats Whether your drinking this or that Believe me, you make every thing Crystal clear. Children are sponges they know their habitat. They know if you are a hellcat Or a man of prayer. Children listen to all your chats and spats. They know when you...

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Absorbing everything Cause I see everything Searching behind hidden doors Combing through the shelves and drawers Where's the social validation Social media is like an infection Information pours like a continuous storm Being nosy is now the norm People now days only look at our flaws and imperfection We live in a land of no freedom with injustices,...

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At least once a month the stench from my kitchen sponge gets so bad I refuse one more soap saturation of this primitive sessile. Why is it that I can’t toss these replicas of marine life, amongst the simplest animal form, free of tissues, muscles, nerves and internal organs? After all, during the course of one day I...

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