Best Squishes Poems
Hand in hand two sprites on a magic flight
with wings of crystal glass and fairy light
they flew, inside an abstract sky of white
wing to wing, one was nimble one was bright
Wearing taffet gowns of silky swishes
they were often flourishing their wishes
blessing all with benign hugs and squishes
tiny pixies, no bigger than mom's dishes
They were sent to baby rooms and wee ones
they shone like light from fifty golden suns
but every now and then they goofed all thumbs
and landed in a cabbage patch, oh crumbs !
they flew like Peter Pan and Tinker Bell
with magic wands to cast a spell, pell-mell
they scurried this way that and then oh well
they crazed it up and then they cast a spell.
Feb 26, 2023
Sponsor Eve Roper
Contest Name Nursery Rhyme
A silk sheet of black covers my head while I am sleeping and seeps into my skin,
Reaching my brain and interrupting dreams that are far from reality’s reach.
Slowly, surely, on soft feet.
Creeping up on me, unexpected.
Chasing me through dark forests that once held flowers without thorns and birds that sang on the many Sunday mornings of spring.
Heels sinking into weak, helpless soil as it gives in to the pressure that pounds upon it again and again like a never ending migraine.
Toes scratched and bleeding from sharp, jabbing rocks that hide themselves and wait for their next victim,
And leave them with scars to line their flesh.
At night the hurt will sit with their legs crossed tight underneath them as if they are protecting them,
And their cold fingers will trace the scars upon their toes
Over and over
In a rhythm, a melody of sorts that only sounds beautiful when it can be understood by the ones who know it best.
I turn corners and pass trees that loom over me,
Old and wilted,
Threatening to fall on top of me and crush me
So I am molded into the ground below it,
And no one will find me because no one cares about the trees that fall,
Or the plants that die,
So why would they look under the fallen tree to find another girl,
Lost and thrown away in the process of trying to run away?
They chase me still as I run so fast that my legs want to detach themselves from my body and leave me lying limp.
Leaves fall into my hair and the thought to pull them out does not occur to me as the soil squishes between my toes, the wind stings my eyes and ears.
Every time I look down,
Beneath me seems to blur,
and I cannot see any of the branches that threaten to trip me as they know what I am running from.
I will fall and be stuck as weeds wrap around my ankles and wrists and prevent me from rising back up,
They will hold me down as if I am a child throwing a temper tantrum,
Restricting me from kicking and screaming.
They want it to catch me and take me away,
To conquer me,
Control me.
But maybe,
In a way that is unknown to me,
A plague that infects my body piece by piece,
Maybe it already has taken over.
Form:
She senses a strange feeling in her heart,
less than full-blown, and yet more than a thought.
It's not quite love, but it could be its start:
it's hard to pin down, for it shifts a lot.
Fantasies that make her giggle inside
get stored in her vault of secret wishes.
There, sensual feelings get amplified,
like mud between your toes, when it squishes.
She gradually lights up with a smile,
fantasizing about her first lover.
And leaving reality for a while:
she seeks feelings she's yet to discover.
And she searches for any telltale signs:
that hope may be signaling love's approach.
And yet, she'll not step across moral lines:
her reputation is beyond reproach.
Wet sand oozes between my toes,
gooey as grandma's homemade jam.
And imprinted on a clean slate,
fresh footprints form along the shore.
Gooey as grandma's homemade jam,
sand squishes between wiggly toes.
And memories are created,
exploring these tactile feelings.
And imprinted on a clean slate,
staggering steps are recorded.
A hodgepodge of runaway feet
scampering from advancing waves.
Fresh footprints form along the shore,
only to be quickly erased.
Yet, every wave lures others to
leave their mark on the sands of time.
Time by the ocean is a special luxury...
rejuvenation of spirit, mental cleansing,
physical relaxation and revitalization
Scent of the ocean air...
the first indication we are near
and we savor its smell...
actually find it stimulating
Walking along the beach...
waves roar in the distance...
sand squishes between toes...
cold water hits feet and legs...
lowering the temperature of our very core
Seagulls dip and squawk nearby...
ships and ocean vessels sail
along the never-ending horizon
resembling children's toys
Ocean water spray... a salty taste
dinner is fish of the day for some...
crablegs and lobster for others
Time spent by the ocean...
a sensory treat...
smell, see, hear, feel, taste...
a sensory luxury
August 12, 2018
Five Senses Contest
By Viv Wigley
Fourth Place
Stepping on shuttered dreams
Feet bleeding wishes of travel
Disable soul mails postcards
To a corner called " Empty Apartment"
Still nature on the thirteenth floor
Mom's glasses left behind and a cup full of tears
A phone ringing obsessively
The door permanently unlocked…
Jetlag freezes childhood memories
Dirt squishes mortality between my toes
Ravens on cracked limbs distract me
A shovel full releases a white cloud
I jump on ready made steps in snow
Hungry children of the graves follow me
I stop, they stop, I feel, they feel - so lonely
Playing the game of “Orphaned Roulette”...
for Matt's Contest "Empty Apartment"
Their one lone cow has broken down the fence;
we see her trundling down the dusty lane.
Milo's mind remembers 'bout the milking.
Dad's face, a fiery-red, storms from the shed
where feisty kittens spat and sparred o'er cream.
Milo's feet meander back to the scene
as words of fire enflame dad's bulging neck.
"You'll wear the shoes that spooked the cow!" he roars.
So Milo moseys off to dad's bidding.
The cream a'squish-squish-squishes from the seams
of shoes like steam escaping old train wrecks.
Milo mumbles, "Guess I'd best be moving
along that dusty road to bring back Cow,"
with no concern for who will mend the fence.
written March 13, 2018
I love dogs,don't get me wrong.
It's really not their doing.
Their human parents are to blame
for places they are pooing!
It's bad enough they let them go
right smack into my yard.
But then they will not clean it up
and I step in it hard!
This is laziness on their part
or maybe they just don't care.
At any rate it makes me mad
that they're not being fair.
I shift my feet around and still
I scrape it off my shoes.
Or else it squishes between my toes
and this is awful news!
So people if you have a pooch
please take along a scooper.
For if you know your pup at all
you'll know he's a big pooper!
for contest"What Annoys You"
Frank I hope I made you laugh!!
PIE HARD
the meringue explodes
squishes twixt heroes bare toes
and the pieman laughs
lemon gel hits cop
on the crusty street down low
“join the party, pal”
Christmas is a time
to pie hard, “yippee ki yay”
with model wise guys
bad apples at large
the hero’s jotting down names
for a half-baked plot
temperature rising
the elevator opens
Macintosh is dead
momentum of pie
thief loses his grip...forfeits
a victory slice
11/19/2018
PUNNY HOLIDAY PIES CONTEST
SPONSOR - Michelle Faulkner
Snippets loosely based on “Die Hard”
Take off your veil o beauty,
your moles can't hide your sorrows and nudity,
is the longing causing quiet and peace?,
you will arrive again and him will seek,
loaded with stones and shaded with shades,
like a beautiful bride smiling in escapade,
decorated with black and a flirtatious tiara,
seduce your lovers and take them to euphoria,
celebrate your wait before he arrives,
elevate our senses and your lover deprived,
following him daily is your ritual,
fortunate our advantage he ain't so punctual,
you wait patiently with your tiara and stones,
maintain utmost calm in stubborn bones,
make no movement, make no sigh, wait for him and you hope high,
hours have passed and centuries gone,
your undying love and longing never groans,
He appears finally... smitten by your charms, wishes to grab a chance in your game of trance,
smiling wide and filled with power he squishes your moles, feeling like a tower,
you don't smile... you don't cry...rather shy away and think not fine,
to let him feel... so long denied,
with red cheeks and crimson temple...you smile at him nonchalantly,
he comes in your way and questions you gallantly, no reply, you don't try
to forgive and give...love long declined,
angered and suffered he aims high and breaks your tiara so crystalline,
slip away o beauty!
Shadows define your presence in his agony,
slip away o beauty!
To arrive again in your stones and nudity......
Hungry for sure
We sat on our seats.
Hungry we were
For 'Cat In The Hat' eats.
Sally and I
And our fish on a date,
Wondering why
Such a long wait,wait,wait.
We were hungry and late
And the wait we did hate.
But after a while
Our waiter did appear,
With laughter and a smile
And an eye straight and clear.
He asked dry and droll,
"What can I get you today?
Shark fin soup in a bowl?
The catch of the day?
A nice fish fillet?"
But the fish turned bright red,
"I know what you're doing!
With my tiny fish head
You are screw, screw, screw screwing!"
We ordered pulled pork,
The fish wanted flakes
The waiter went to work
But he made some mistakes.
He brought back two big dishes.
Both seemed alive.
A great plate of squirmy Squishes,
and a pot of endive.
The great plate not so great.
A lot in the pot is what we got.
With a bang bang clang clang
And a lion-like roar,
He rang out and sang,
"Here's two meals you'll adore!"
But both sets of dishes, all the squirmy Squishes
And endive not asked for, ended up on the floor.
The fish said "Let's fly without a good-bye.
This waiter is nuts, no ifs ands or buts".
Then our waiter returned to the room
with a broom,
And started to sweep
With a zoom, zoom, zoom, zoom.
And he cleaned up the Squishes,
Cleared up the endive.
With a couple of swishes
And a juke and a jive.
"I'm sorry for this.
I'm sorry for that.
I'm sorry the Squishes went down with a splat"
Said the waiter who worked at The Cat In The Hat.
"I'll full up your fork, you can trust me.
I'll go pull your pork, and flick flakes for fishy".
The meal tasted good.
As good as it could.
And we heavily tipped
Like we should, should, should, should.
Someday we'll return.
One thing we did learn,
A good place to eat at?
'The Cat In The Hat'!
March 18 2017
Submitted to the 'I need a cup of Seuss' Poetry Contest
In July, no air cooler will dissipate the heat.
I squeeze the bag, it squishes, like paste within my hand.
The chocolate eggs were perfect, the kind one loves to eat.
April's chocolate ovals now are no longer grand.
Why were these candies put on a shelf three months ago?
A preference for jellies, perhaps may be the cause,
But a springtime gain of weight tells the reason, I know.
The candies weren't unwanted. They just were put on pause.
To See It With Open Eyes?
What is wrong with everyone?
Every time I turn around,
someone is accusing someone else of being a racist.
What is this racist thing?
Is it a disease of some kind? Does it bite?
You all sound like something slinking in the dark garden,
croaking and oozing there with the slimy toads and the rude crickets.
“Racist! …Racist!... Racist!”…
What creature is this that lurks so loudly in the wet weeds?
What vile manner is this, that makes a person wonder,
Will it kill me when it jumps out at me?
Will it bite me when I bend down close
to see it with open eyes?
“Racist! …Racist!... Racist!”...
What is this annoying debased thing,
which squirms and squishes loudly in the dark garden?
What repulsive grunt is this, that makes a person wonder,
Will it sting me when it lunges at me?,
Will it attack me when I bend down close
to see it with open eyes?
“Racist!... Racist!... Racist!”…
There it goes again, making that same irksome insane sound.
Will it ever cease? Will it ever just keel over, and die?
What is this racist thing?
Does it have a big drooling mouth with hungry teeth?
Is it some grotesque monster from far beneath
the surface of the earth?
I think… it stinks like something that’s been dead for centuries.
“Racist!... Racist!... Racist!”…
What is wrong with everyone?
I walk barefoot
along the beach,
The wet sand squishes
between my toes,
And the weary waves of the sea
swooshing the shore
like my labored breathing,
There's a sluggish stream
of salty air blowing in
like the tears
rolling down my face;
The sun is setting gently
like my sinking hope,
And the sky is awashed
in a crimson hue
like my bleeding heart.
I.
At Bredinsburg Road Cemetery
the fence pillars
stand arched
on each side
where the empty space of
shoulder bone meets shoulder bone.
II.
I tread lightly
here,
tombstones
white chipped shale
scattered and tilted askew
flat like deli plates
tossed wilily nigh
lengthwise into the ground.
III.
Some,
bear children’s names
angel’s feathers rubbed off
by the wind’s thin unmeaning elbows,
huddle like baby teeth
dappled
in the shadows
of wealthy marble monuments,
plaques that say
even in death we are above you.
IV.
Beneath
my dampened sneakers
moss the consistency of marshmallow
squishes silently,
a whimper
of earth.
V.
Behind me
faint foot fall
like the murmur of an infant
paddle
through the thick of dead leaves.