Long Splosh Poems

Long Splosh Poems. Below are the most popular long Splosh by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Splosh poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Mr Mccheesy Feet

Mr McCheesy has large feet
wears size 40 shoes, no simple feat
plip! plop! thud! phud!
was all you could hear
miles before he would appear

Many would hide to hold themselves safe
not wanting his cheesy feet near their face
many scorned, poked fun, gave retreat
all ran and hide, but never to seek

Mr McCheesy felt alone in despair
for he truly felt no one did care
mock him, tease him, laugh did they
each time he passed anytime of the day

One darkened morning 
a fierce storm came calling
torrential rain lashed heavily down
ground gurgling, mud pouring
all ran, found cover, all prayed
 
When all was calm was plain to see
the devastation they did not forsee
disbelief, shock an all forlorn 
wheat and corn was all gone
sodden wet mud laid bare openly
mangled limbs from drowned trees

Roads now broken, buried in ground
how was they going to travel around?
stuck, cut off from outside life
they knew to be in heavy strife

In distance a familiar sound echoed flew
splish splosh splush vibrated through 
Mr McCheesy the man with large feet
pounding down the ground skillfully neat

Creating a road solid and sound
for everyone to convey around
feet echoing sounds they once did fear
now welcomed with loud roaring cheers

Lone warrior working his large feet
In rhythms of phuds and splats
Mr McCheesy on hearing their claps
spurred on reclaim land to reap
 
Added cheers erupted, boomed loud and clear
"you've made the horror disappear
Mr McCheesy you've saved the day
hip! hip! hooray! hooray!"

From that day forward none laughed at him again
ashamed and guilty of their bullying and pain
for he was their hero he saved the day 
a statue was erected in his grand name

We are all unique with qualities of difference 
some dont see, only show of their ignorance
god gave to us for reasons unknown
were all different it is often shown
but the devil he teases and tempts with his sin
turns us into imbeciles and cruelty sets in

If ever your teased to having cheesy feet
remember the tale wrote above
cheesy feet who saved that day 
gave so much and forever his love

                                  26.08.20


The Orphers' Inferno

Two true taboo nocturnal friends
Bedeviling the vernal places;
Un-men unto un-town's undead ends,
Under wrinks in mansworld's faces;

Take care me boys, wear Wolfrat clothes - 
Make sure you're tooled - tooths fully bloodied?
Put yer foot in ther gutter that 'Overworld' loathes,
Splosh mirror truths Ministers muddied.

Rah, in the street-wright night-boy club!
Be prey, but with Lionheart essence! 
The hungry punk-hunt shade that coin-eye pub;
Beware those sado-mermaid's fluorescence!

Beware those sirens, strident scribes,
Evade the Lamp-rayed Hag of Hoar!
Abhor the barb'ry boo's of the Boozeblooded Tribes,
Fear the Head-Rider's ritual roar!

And hide from those trackening opal eyes, 
through which blind the Lopeful Coghagi pries -
You must weather the trail of the Bufferjudge Snail,
Whose pregnant tongue licked dead your railbridge braille.

  *

Go, but beware every towner! fearless be, me boys!
Your game plays real monsters, that dread light-world's lost toys.
Go, snuck under covers, worlds without Mothers, going down,
Below bewildered barrowers in semi-detached mounds -

Over crows' roads, to ausider's ground
To un-town's electrical woods
To the alleycaves icebound ancestor's found
Where Messy-'A's were named in saints hoods.

In those estates of homeless air,
Cracktheadrals of drizzle in stars,
Go, urchins - nuke town to show you are there,
Re-score the old world's oldest scars!

Bring plaster peace, scrawl boundaries,
Two Pilgrim imps watch n sign posts -
Dripped under zipped walls of all crawling sundries, 
Crossing the Freightmines of neon-roped ghosts.

With your chats, plans, laughs, paths run,
Why do it, ink 'round them Weird Wenders?
You scorned ghouls fly there for glorious fun
As humans - not those over-town pretenders.

Then, minxing in, to light world
Where un-town and-town blend
Hide your goblin masks, your darkness of pens - 
And part home with big hugs, as any-world friends.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Parched Earth-2 Forms

1. Form: Free Verse/Theme: Indulgence

Singing those praises in church,
I see a vision of a parched earth.
Geosmin scent ascends;
or descends. Transference
between reality and surreality.

My mind is soaked in soil microbes,
no shower sensation in sight.

Today it might rain; or not.
Sunday, I’ll be praising in church,
whether, or not, we get relief;
but there will be comforting
amidst the suffering; or not.

Can you tell, Georgia needs rain?
Our birds crave it. My lillies lay in wait
to relieve the scorch of Summer heat.

I am conditioned with air, but
I need to hear the rain
and smell the petrichor ‘plash.

For that I’ll accept the invitation
to sit on my screened-in deck,
hopefully hear the roar of thunder,
and the whooshing wind
through the plush leaves,
as the treasures of heaven,
fall like silver coins, to make mud.


2. Form: Rhyme/Theme: Indulgence

Sing chorus of reality;
A parched sur’ality.
From the dry earth, a scent ascends;
Geosmin scent descends.

In soil microbes, my mind awoke,
tempting shower, a soak.
Where rainfall’s sensation is bliss,
The serpent-earth’s amiss.

Today the rain might fall; or not -
Our suffering; or not.
In church, we will be still and praise -
Weather or not, we’ll praise.

I think you know, Georgia needs rain.
The birds crave its refrain.
Relieve the scorch of Summer heat.
My lillies wait for beat.

Air-conditioned, am I, but I
Am longing drench, not shy.
I wish to smell the petrichor -
A splash of rain, adore.

To hear the roar of thunder-speak;
The whooshing wind, this week.
Heaven’s treasures pour out and sud
And mix the silver’d mud.

I’ll sit on deck and marvel at
The rush of leaves, the splat;
Splish-splosh and churning soil to cure
Descend, ascend, endure.

Premium Member About a Plug

A good number of us decided to go on holiday down to the sea,
Well, it was such a fun crazy time and it ended far too quickly,
Every night a couples’ name was pulled out of the hat,
It was our turn to cook on the coming Saturday, fancy that,
We had to put on a good spread and decided to cook Greek,
Out we went on the morn ticked off each item, had to perform peak,
No-one was allowed in the kitchen when we were cooking,
The aroma wafted under the door, they were eager to come looking,
But we locked the door, and two hours later we rang the dinner bell,
The clan came quickly, it smelt divine, followed their nose and tasty smell,
Everyone was hungry So ample portions we served, it tasted so good,
We were complimented, Jane asked for a second serving of food,
So proud we were, one and all, enjoying our Cabernet and chatty dine,
But then something embarrassing happened, which wasn’t so fine,
A heaped spoon my friend placed in her mouth, we heard spluttering, 
a cough and, oh my gosh,
Her empty spoon fell into the food with a thundering splattering splosh,
Jane quizzically picked this thing up, it had a tail, not a mouse, but a black plug,
With a bright shiny chain which took forever to reveal itself,
I wanted to crawl under the table but all I could do was blush, was it myself 
or hubby, when washing the veg in the sink, accidentally picked it up potatoes 
At first silence, then her hubby laughed, watch out for the salad and tomatoes 
It has become a household joke between us and many a friend,
We were jovially asked what was the next Greek dish that we recommend!
sea
Form: Rhyme

The Duck, the Dog, the Chicken and I

 
The duck, the dog, the chicken and I, 
loved long walks along the beach. 
Me with spade firm in hand, 
Lick played ball in the sand. 
Dip had her scarf wrapped round her head, 
And Chick wore a green bainette. 

Lamenting of sweet times gone by, 
when Chick, Dip, Lick and I, 
Would splish, splash, splosh in puddles deep, 
Or fee fi fo on mountain steep. 
Where Billy goats would cautiously wonder, 
and trolls leap out from deep, down under. 

Oh the fun times we had, 
playing dress up, fighting bad. 
The superheroes of the town, 
me, in my bright red dressing gown. 
Lick in his unique mask disguise, 
Dip wearing her brand new xray eyes. 
Chick flaunting a full licra suit, 
as the latest MI5 recruit. 

We'd scurry high, low, far and near, 
from mountain top to sunny pier. 
We'd often see my lonesome nan, 
who'd bake the best, homemade flan. 
I'd guzzle the berries placed on top, 
Lick would chomp on fresh cream clot. 
Dip feasted on the almond base, 
And Chick enjoyed the pastry case.

Then on we'd hed to Nancy's green, 
for a kick about beside the Dean. 
We'd paddle round the great big lake, 
in a dinghy boat, eight by eight. 
Until it was then time for tea, 
when all the young children flee

Back home to mama's warm, fresh bread, 
mutton soup and cabbage head. 
To help me grow up good and strong, 
and bulk me up for summers long. 
Then I'd lie all sleepy by my friends, 
and tell stories till the daylight ends. 
Tales of dragons, beasts and vast adventure, 
of the duck, the dog, the chicken and I.

08.19.2020
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Lyric of the Marshland

Sweet butterscotch dew dimples on the lips of daffodils
In flourishing fields fondled by four leaf clover
Each scant spikelet of small white blooms playfully pleasure
Rejoicing with fragrance within this meadow of elation

Full throated birdsongs from summer clad throngs
On painted wings twittering mimics to the joyful muse
Singing...I belong, I belong, I belong
Basking in the beams that blanket with golden warmth

Flittering, fluttering, tittering, shimmering butterfly wings
Catch the amicable air stream gliding to each flush of flowers
While the bustling boom of buzzing bees flaunt and flirt
With tiny tendrils and pistils laden with summer succulence

Marigold marshes pop aloud with a scented stinky snout
While the honeysuckle mingles and clings to save the day
Dragonfly wings scour the sky above the tadpole's glug and splosh
As caterpillars lazily race for the next bite on half-eaten leaves 

The standing creek lies bogged with meditative stillness
As it ever recedes ritually to the shallows in the vaporous heat
Filching foamy froth for snapping turtles, water striders and snails
As it belches its murky gases from soggy bottom sludge

This serendipitous splendor of sensuous sparkling soulfulness
This symbiotic symphony of nature's stirring recital repeats
In the eyes that behold, the nose that savors, the ears that revel
The touch that embraces and the heart that remembers...

This Heaven on Earth  -  This Heartsong!


July 6, 2020

butter flies and marshes mellow Poetry Contest
sponsored by Kai Michael Neumann
Form: Verse

Premium Member Raindrops

As
rain
starts to fall 
pitter-patter-pitter
beads of water combine
together creating puddles of
water. Children squealing, laughing
as  they play and  jump into them
splish, splash, splosh, happy fun
memories are newly
born.


As
droplets
of rain begins to 
fall giving  life to all, 
grass is greener, plants  grow,  
oceans, streams, rivers fast flow.
animals, aquatics, people thrive
lifes basic requirement to all. 
those precious drops of
water.


A
drink 
of water
a cup of tea,
coffee with bit of cream. 
A bath, a shower, washing hair,
cleaning clothes in a machine. Water 
a valuable and precious source we
often  take  for  granted 
life drops of H20.


                 18.08.21
Form: Concrete

Didnt You Want Your Beans All Over Your Pie

Based on a regular real time experience by my father


Wednesday,
The best day of week – in terms of meals at least.
The canteen serves a pie,
It contains some sort of meat,
Perhaps some vegetables as well,
Its cheap, its tasty, its filling and it enables me to reject my wife’s meal that evening,
One thing spoils my lunch, however
It spoils it full and full
The baked beans that are served as a partner to the pie,
Are deposited over it,
By a dollop of carelessness from the lady server,
What makes it worse still is her adjoining  comment
“Didn’t you want your beans all over your pie?”
I cant really object,
She has done her job,
Sort of,
Every week this happens,
Perhaps the next week she will remember I enjoy a recluse pie,
Totally separate from the beans,
One day she was replaced by a younger woman,
Perhaps I can have a dry pie at last,
“Hello”, I said
“Pie with beans please”
With a smile, my pie appeared on a large plate,
It looked delightful – brown fluffy pastry,  ready to be eaten
She picked up the spoon from the pool of beans,
With a scoop and a wet deposit
Splosh!
“Oh….didnt you want your beans all over your pie?”
Form: Narrative

Premium Member Splosh

You’ll find this disgusting, but Rudolph was busting
He peed in that fish pond of mine
But it wasn’t tragic, cos Rudolph is magic
And he piddles sparkling wine

The water went hazy, my goldfish went crazy
And splashing all over the place
It’s true, don’t be doubting, they dislodged my fountain
And sprayed Prosecco in my face

I swallowed a bit, not too much of it
My hand stopped too much going in
For wine that is fizzy can make me go dizzy
I’d much rather do that with gin

I think Santa heard, cos that’s not a bird
It’s Prancer that’s flying above
He’s tinkling from space, I got a quick taste
It’s gin and I think I’m in love

Then my wife appeared and I grew afeared
She had a mad look on her face
The goldfish are blotto, the yard’s like a grotto
With reindeer all over the place

But vixen’s my genie, she tinkled martini
So I grabbed a glass in some haste
Vermouth sprinkled in, right up to the brim
My wife won’t let that go to waste

So, now dancing twerky, she forgot the turkey
And I grabbed a casserole dish
I went in to get a whopping great net
Cos dinner will be... 
a goldfish
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Raining in Summer

Like a welcome Summer rain, humor may suddenly
cleanse and cool the earth, the air and you.
—Langston Hughes

RAINING IN SUMMER

  The little teapot leaned over, steam pours out,
sizzles on the pavement. Trickles, sprinkles,
  waters the subsidiary gardens that sprout -
those pointed out by a grandson. My wrinkles
  curve up as the rain skillfully waters my willow,
my patch of roses and lilies, scattered and rare.

  With Summer storm, I ruminate on a long time ago.
This grand-generation of blessing, not yet a prayer.
  Drip…drop…splosh! The hope of the window pane.
We dream, as the outburst streams down to spill
  our dreams, like seeds giving more than the mundane.
God saturates our lives with more than we will.

  It’s raining Summer all over this land of honey-wheat.
Though droll and gray, a grateful soak gifts a sun rise.
  My flower petals, leaves and boughs bathed in heat
and nourishing drink, replenishing the owls, and other wise.
  Ker-splash, the puddles of inky-mud, stain the shins,
  leave me, us, them, refreshed and sodden with grins.
Form: Rhyme

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