"mudpies" poems - Hello Poetry

rumble grumble crack lightning jagged sears the eye plat platt plitt splat clouds burst forth in drilling drumming rhythm flinging water pellets at grime collected soil neglected mosoon season breaks the sky making backyards into squelching squishy mudpies rumble grumble crack raintrack on repeat

0

May 2, 2014

May 2, 2014 at 8:47 AM UTC

betterdays

cloudburst

rumble grumble crack lightning jagged sears the eye plat platt plitt splat clouds burst forth in drilling drumming rhythm flinging water pellets at grime collected soil neglected mosoon season breaks the sky making backyards into squelching squishy mudpies rumble grumble crack raintrack on repeat

38

A colleague told me how “All poems are hate poems.” And I battered this wondered Clobbered up like mudpies flopping, Topped, and tossing between Palms. Qualms pulled apart, Stretched, stringy like Taffy, sticking tongue to teeth, why We can barely spreak when We touch upon love. There is Love – and there is Hate – two sides of the same blade That steams your blood – Smoke signals to Your loved ones that you – in one way or another – Are still orange-warm. In this forgiving House of Blue Light – singing of malefic effigies: Christ Light. Water light. Trickled dirt along the corridors, wood-swollen, too. Grab the safety handles of Hate – embrace them, know them, love them. Hate is the pause between heartbeats that exhales the light in your veins.

0

Dec 16, 2011

Dec 16, 2011 at 12:23 AM UTC

kara-rose-trojan

Unscaled Walls

A colleague told me how “All poems are hate poems.” And I battered this wondered Clobbered up like mudpies flopping, Topped, and tossing between Palms. Qualms pulled apart, Stretched, stringy like Taffy, sticking tongue to teeth, why We can barely spreak when We touch upon love. There is Love – and there is Hate – two sides of the same blade That steams your blood – Smoke signals to Your loved ones that you – in one way or another – Are still orange-warm. In this forgiving House of Blue Light – singing of malefic effigies: Christ Light. Water light. Trickled dirt along the corridors, wood-swollen, too. Grab the safety handles of Hate – embrace them, know them, love them. Hate is the pause between heartbeats that exhales the light in your veins.

20

Memories and flashbacks Childhood. . . Grandma Spoiled Peaceful, country meadows Ponds Spaghetti O's Roast beef, beans and cornbread Homework her third grade education Finding me with n Strangers When my mom decided to go on drug fending binges from city to city The swingset I wanted The mudpies she ate The sacrifices she taught me of The determination she instilled The cold mornings she made fires Warmth, breakfast in bed Kittens, clotheslines, and the never ending biscuit bowl that I never understood how it remained full day after day. The plaits I hated yet love now The smell of her clothes How she sashayed when she dressed up Her anger Sitting in the porch with our dog Spot Princygal the cat Late night peanut butter cookie baking The sign in her wall that said Life is one fool thing after another Love is two fool things after each other That I read over and over again until finally I understood. Everything clean and cooked by noon What happens tomorrow?

0

Oct 14, 2014

Oct 14, 2014 at 9:36 PM UTC

thessa-j-pickett

pre traumatic stress

Memories and flashbacks Childhood. . . Grandma Spoiled Peaceful, country meadows Ponds Spaghetti O's Roast beef, beans and cornbread Homework her third grade education Finding me with n Strangers When my mom decided to go on drug fending binges from city to city The swingset I wanted The mudpies she ate The sacrifices she taught me of The determination she instilled The cold mornings she made fires Warmth, breakfast in bed Kittens, clotheslines, and the never ending biscuit bowl that I never understood how it remained full day after day. The plaits I hated yet love now The smell of her clothes How she sashayed when she dressed up Her anger Sitting in the porch with our dog Spot Princygal the cat Late night peanut butter cookie baking The sign in her wall that said Life is one fool thing after another Love is two fool things after each other That I read over and over again until finally I understood. Everything clean and cooked by noon What happens tomorrow?

31

I saw myself, just yesterday sitting on a roadside rock contemplating this and that What was once skinny now seems fat. What once was mouse now is rat. Doors once open, swinging, now have locks Looks like dog packs sounds like ***** inside outside underware Hawking mudpies at the County Fair. Thoughts so thick, I yank my hair. Suddenly frozen. I sit and stare days, weeks pass. "was that a knock?" I find my wrist. A strapped on clock? I see the lie-ing hand spin round moon rises, sun rises, make a loud sound what was lost, remains un-unfound what was valley, now is a mound Big toe rooting, ventilated sox both shoes missing, cardboard box. Suddenly, It's today at last! Debris surrounds me. Shattered masks? Stomach empty? Methusela fast. No more future, no more past. Large ships! Arriving, at the docks. Time goes crazy, when there are no more tocs. A lovely world of only tics. no more stealing, no more tricks no more soft talk, no more big sticks It's raining gold, no axes no picks chickens sleeping with the fox-es Un coveting of the neighbor's ox-s. And his gougeous brick house wife and his so called perfect life Dict. : Deleting words like strife dancing to ditties from a fife Wearin fine hats shaped like a Chinese Wok sittin alone on a roadside rock.

0

Nov 21, 2014

Nov 21, 2014 at 5:55 PM UTC

ken-deford

Rock-in and Roll-in

I saw myself, just yesterday sitting on a roadside rock contemplating this and that What was once skinny now seems fat. What once was mouse now is rat. Doors once open, swinging, now have locks Looks like dog packs sounds like ***** inside outside underware Hawking mudpies at the County Fair. Thoughts so thick, I yank my hair. Suddenly frozen. I sit and stare days, weeks pass. "was that a knock?" I find my wrist. A strapped on clock? I see the lie-ing hand spin round moon rises, sun rises, make a loud sound what was lost, remains un-unfound what was valley, now is a mound Big toe rooting, ventilated sox both shoes missing, cardboard box. Suddenly, It's today at last! Debris surrounds me. Shattered masks? Stomach empty? Methusela fast. No more future, no more past. Large ships! Arriving, at the docks. Time goes crazy, when there are no more tocs. A lovely world of only tics. no more stealing, no more tricks no more soft talk, no more big sticks It's raining gold, no axes no picks chickens sleeping with the fox-es Un coveting of the neighbor's ox-s. And his gougeous brick house wife and his so called perfect life Dict. : Deleting words like strife dancing to ditties from a fife Wearin fine hats shaped like a Chinese Wok sittin alone on a roadside rock.

58

They're seventeen and fourteen, those girls who have our hearts from curley top and sassypants, they've grown up tall and smart what ever happened to those ribbons and bows that was braided in their hair they've traded in the baby stuff, and now its liner and lipstick they wear.. We really miss those days gone by, their games and movies and noise mudpies and tea parties are over and done, they've now discovered "boys" So now we wait a few more years, to see what they'll become We hope that we are still around when they find their special "one' I guess the most important thing, that we would hope they share the memories and the love we have, for both will always be there So as we grow older and so do they, as life has so proclaimed We leave to them our legacy, and someday they'll do the same.

0

Sep 16, 2012

Sep 16, 2012 at 8:52 PM UTC

barbara-swan

Grandaughters

They're seventeen and fourteen, those girls who have our hearts from curley top and sassypants, they've grown up tall and smart what ever happened to those ribbons and bows that was braided in their hair they've traded in the baby stuff, and now its liner and lipstick they wear.. We really miss those days gone by, their games and movies and noise mudpies and tea parties are over and done, they've now discovered "boys" So now we wait a few more years, to see what they'll become We hope that we are still around when they find their special "one' I guess the most important thing, that we would hope they share the memories and the love we have, for both will always be there So as we grow older and so do they, as life has so proclaimed We leave to them our legacy, and someday they'll do the same.

12

The day after She left me I broke I decided it was time for a change A change, Something new to wake up to, A new start as hopeful as it sounds. They all say now is the best time to Become a new me. So I stole my neighbors tractor tire **** it sure is heavy Heavy, like the morning light on my Eyes when I finally quit my job-- But I digress I take the dilapidated tire to the edge Of my suburban lot (I hate this lot Why she chose this lot I'll never know Stupid ***** can take it all)-- I crawl into the tire And with a single push I'm off! Ambition fills my empty shell This loathsome corpse Rolling endlessly away from his Past Past the neighbours Past the dog that **** in my yard If you could call it a yard A yard is where kids play And men pridefully mow And women tan brown and laze Like my neighbors wife half-past noon While he works and lays his assistant I stare promiscuous beams at her Hoping she'll see me and know I too Long for a real love Maybe I could talk to her Have an affair Move away to a lovely town With a yard Along with little children who Call me daddy and make mudpies In our driveway Maybe one day But on this day I roll And roll Roll Into a new me A real Me Into a new love Onto a field of opportunity Maybe one day But on this day I roll Into a new me Onto the train tracks

0

Apr 14, 2019

Apr 14, 2019 at 3:53 PM UTC

CorduroyLee

Today I Roll

The day after She left me I broke I decided it was time for a change A change, Something new to wake up to, A new start as hopeful as it sounds. They all say now is the best time to Become a new me. So I stole my neighbors tractor tire **** it sure is heavy Heavy, like the morning light on my Eyes when I finally quit my job-- But I digress I take the dilapidated tire to the edge Of my suburban lot (I hate this lot Why she chose this lot I'll never know Stupid ***** can take it all)-- I crawl into the tire And with a single push I'm off! Ambition fills my empty shell This loathsome corpse Rolling endlessly away from his Past Past the neighbours Past the dog that **** in my yard If you could call it a yard A yard is where kids play And men pridefully mow And women tan brown and laze Like my neighbors wife half-past noon While he works and lays his assistant I stare promiscuous beams at her Hoping she'll see me and know I too Long for a real love Maybe I could talk to her Have an affair Move away to a lovely town With a yard Along with little children who Call me daddy and make mudpies In our driveway Maybe one day But on this day I roll And roll Roll Into a new me A real Me Into a new love Onto a field of opportunity Maybe one day But on this day I roll Into a new me Onto the train tracks

57

I think I'm spinning candy floss or is it raining sunflower seeds? beads of sweat to make a necklace around my neck which I'm saving for an abacus but need some more beads yet I'm drowning in the dandelions which roar into my ears I'm floating in kaleidoscopes and colouring in my years But if I gave a **** and I'm sure I don't I won't be tuning in. There are keys for locks for clocks and keys to unlock locked up shops my tongue is getting tired. It was a random day in a random way when the winning number won stardom was my Genevieve I do believe that's true two bullets in the barrel One for me and one for you.

0

Aug 19, 2016

Aug 19, 2016 at 4:24 AM UTC

john-edward-smallshaw

Making mudpies

I think I'm spinning candy floss or is it raining sunflower seeds? beads of sweat to make a necklace around my neck which I'm saving for an abacus but need some more beads yet I'm drowning in the dandelions which roar into my ears I'm floating in kaleidoscopes and colouring in my years But if I gave a **** and I'm sure I don't I won't be tuning in. There are keys for locks for clocks and keys to unlock locked up shops my tongue is getting tired. It was a random day in a random way when the winning number won stardom was my Genevieve I do believe that's true two bullets in the barrel One for me and one for you.

15

they are waiting for something good can work erase the bad? kids eat mudpies and cry "mushaboom, mushaboom" there goes the fear they once had for the wild now it's become a phantom limb -c.j.

0

Jul 22, 2016

Jul 22, 2016 at 7:51 PM UTC

smallhandsxx

urojona kończyna

they are waiting for something good can work erase the bad? kids eat mudpies and cry "mushaboom, mushaboom" there goes the fear they once had for the wild now it's become a phantom limb -c.j.

6