In sun and in rain,
Toils of broken soles and blistered palms.
And the journey, tedious, ends in the dank
Leaves of a breathless forest; so rancid the undergrowth,
Hissing signals of danger in the darkest foliage of mankind.
I cringed alone.
So unkempt this unholy place, where the sun is
Mocked; so ungraceful, yet so glorious.
So cautious these woods, where the panthers,
At noon, watch with the keenest of eyes, silent.
Cadaverous each leaning wood, and misleading,
Every thorny path and track . . .
I have journeyed,
And so precious my journey that I seek life among
The living, and have thus toiled until I gathered and
Garnered the speckled pages of the apothecary’s creed.
Now the leaves in the cauldron boil, squeezed!
The content stored for squirting life into the living.
I want to be a horned toad
Puffing myself up to enormous fluffiness
terrifying my enemies
eating ant sandwiches as they run from me
squirting blood out of my eyes
confusing them even further
I stood
in front
of my class
and cried
biscuits
over you
squirting out
my elegant tears
like fish eggs
while you
took selfies
in a muscle shirt
that read
'Don't be such a mermaid'
Deep bass breaths blue soothing strong
Play me like Picasso piano all night long
Nibbles at my ear are a peach love song
So dear my heart cheers stringing me along
My knees melt like Swiss cheese
You fill all my gold holes
Fuchsia feelings like destiny
Embraces my heart jumpstart my soul
I am a sandy song
Which you determine kinetic key
Like guitar play teal thong
Make a romantic red melody
Let’s break burgundy rules
Play them like a bugle
Use pink passion as a tool
Use tongue to draw pink doodle
When the fat lady sings
You know that she felt sun
Never mind about denim dreams
She squirts sonnets just for fun
Sweet ladybugs are not so ladylike
When frightened by oldster or a young tike
Squirting yellow liquid that tastes horrible and stinks
Putrid smelling, worse than corpses of six rotting minks.
On summer grass
freshly cut
I lay relaxing looking up at the
subtle slovenly shape shifter
floating above
It steals my mind
and the world disappears
slowly changing
sneaking by
forming frothy bubbles
Candy floss fluff
A carving of mashed potato
Animals and faces
high in the sky
A shaping of marshmallow
Pillows and cushions
Cotton wool art
A squirting of cream
suspended in the air
Buoyant bundles of sheep's wool
and sculptured polystyrene
Light airy sponge cake
hovering high, hanging
as I escape from my life
to nature's creation in the sky
Light white clouds
They offer no rope nor traction.
Following a prolonged icy tongue-blast.
A slow slide into the greasy crevasse.
Where lie soul-stiffening white jackets.
There seem to be infinite oceans of infinite critics.
Vast deserts without an oasis of empathy.
Powers that be will steal the last of the cherries.
Leaving mountains of bluish pits and pluming death.
Drunk clowns are juggling our happiness.
Squirting flowers filled with ink and lye.
To cloak the last bastions of gilded sanity,
To poison any goodness in our lives.
So, what are the children of silence to do?
Sit in their blackness and lick a sticky candy dish.
Surrender the ghost of a million to appease a few.
Or come out swinging in the light-with fiery fists.
Memories of those childhood days
Laughing in the most silly ways
Playing tag and climbing trees
For hours and hours in Summer's breeze
Building snowmen in the Winter
Having Mom remove a splinter
Falling down and getting bruises
Coming up with lame excuses
Squirting Dad with garden hoses
Chicken pox and runny noses
At Carnivals and County Fairs
Riding bikes and flat tire repairs
Chasing the little girl next door
Rolling Hot Wheels on the floor
Making roads with Tonka trucks
Coke bottles sold made extra bucks
Buying double scoop ice cream cones
Catching frogs and skipping stones
Winning games of hide and seek
On Christmas Eve to sneak a peek
Springtime in brand new sandals
Blowing out your birthday candles
Making wishes before you do
Too much cake when you're through
Friendships that would never sever
Each day seemed to last forever
Those childhood memories from the past
Amazing time went by so fast
Ever try eating a Soft Taco Supreme
And not appear like a glutton
With stuff squirting out all over yourself
Down to your old bellybutton
It's all about this amazing experience
Wouldn't be as enjoyable without it
So forget about all those damn cleaning bills
They're part of the joyous trip
As you chomp away with gay abandon
The messier the better, for sure
Without the mess, you ain't no aficionado
Just someone trying to act mature
Acting prim and proper when eating a taco
Has never been part of the scene
So dig right in, the messier the better
Be a proud taco eating machine
"We're going to need a bigger fig leaf."
Proclaimed the teacher to her staring class
As the model removed the last of his attire.
A collective, almost silent gasp
and the clatter of a fallen brush on parquet floor
confirmed this to be true.
Among the downcast eyes of most
was an accusing glance from pink-faced girl
to blushing secret lover.
Others scanned the body top to toe;
some fixed their gaze;
not all upon the model's eyes.
The over-fondling of a brush,
the squeezing squirting of thick paint from tube
A pencil slowly rotated in a mouth;
gestures, lost of innocence,
in steamy, thickening room.
A closeted sigh.
A wistful moan.
The heavy silence broke;
"As you may have guessed," the teacher coughed
"The subject for your sketch today is Adam."
This or That, Vol 11 Poetry Contest Fig Leaf, placed 3rd
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Date wrote: 31st March 2022
Savvy wasp hornet killer spray
Feeling good it’s what I bring her.
Squirting a stream so far away
Grandma watch out for the stinger!
callously the world had split
two hemispheres disconnected
scalps and war chests decorated
glamorous uniforms
heaving with medals
speechless arithmetic
spacious troops on the map
her mind severed in pain
corporeal numbness leaking
from a crashed skull bone
squirting brain matter
and lost hope
displaced she roamed the ruins
her only salvation that
shrapnel had formed
a lacuna of blood
where semblance of
left right and wrong
now withered in vain
Molly had a chat with Bert,
Stating that she had an aversion to bottles that squirt,
She preferred her sauces in glass bottles,
The plastic monstrosities she'd like to throttle,
As she said this, she gave a squirt,
Squirting tomato sauce all over Bert's shirt
oranges are staining my nails
squirting and spreading juice
aromatic, wet, tasty,
sometimes tart, sometimes sweet
some can juice them
I try
but fail
buying my juice at a store
It is in ponds, streams and rivers,
And also in lakes and oceans.
Sometimes it stands still,
But mostly it's in motion.
From the air, it will say hello,
From a dreary sky,
Showering you with love.
No longer you'll be dry!
Nothing is more refreshing
Than a glass of this wonderful water;
Even without sugar, lemon, ice and bubbles,
For which you'd have to order.
Waterslides and kayaking,
With water rolling over rocks,
Sometimes it's safe to engage,
Other times it's with feisty crocs!
The waves stir up emotion.
They impress us with their power.
Mighty, majestic and strong,
Their crash causes a foamy shower.
Water is also relaxing.
Think of that warm soak in the bath...
Water is used in playtime, for fun,
Squirting water at your friends - then you laugh!
Water is a force to be reckoned with -
Poetry in motion, as it were!
Its exotic reflection of the sky above,
One cannot help but stare!
Water can transform
Into a solid or a gas...
Let's top up our water vessels.
To water raise a glass!
Saturday, October 2, 2021
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.