"ploop" poems
I wonder where raindrops come from before they reach my window,
A river? Lake? Ocean?
I wonder how far they have to travel before they reach my window,
A kilometer? Mile? Country?
I wonder if these raindrops work together to sing as they reach my window,
Plop-plop, ploop, plop-ploop!
I wonder how diverse the raindrops are as they reach my window,
Oh hello, I'm from Lake Ontario.
I wonder if it's a wild party or wet war in the clouds whose raindrops reach my window,
Let's dance! Fight me!
I wonder how social raindrops are that reach my window,
Stick to me, we'll become a downpour!
I wonder if the cloud is the mother that lets go of its children to reach my window,
Off to the lake, ma, see you soon!
I wonder if raindrops thought they could fly but instead reached my window,
Weeeeee-aahhhhhhhh!
I wonder if they all fall but expect to soar as they reached my window....
Plop-plop, ploop-plop, plop, ploop, plop, plop....
May 23, 2013
May 23, 2013 at 8:48 PM UTC
On This Christmas Day With Trump
There's an odd Santa Claus
In the air
Riding and laughing
Atop Trump's hair
Even through the fluff
Blinded by the glare
Reindeer pulling gifts of prayer
Through the roots they go
Low lights here and there
Laughing in despair
** what sadness it is to stare
On a one,
****
White Horse open
Night mare
** ** **
Ploop
Open open mouths a sneer
Tounges at war appear
Whispers everywhere
Laughing in despair
Hats off
We spare
To the red suited fare
Abound
And confound
To Trump's
Wishy washy care
Waiting in repair
** ** **
Santa,
My good man,
We have clause
To tear
You're in a mess
To bare
For humbug in Trump
So held in arrear
We're crying in despair
Logan Robertson
12/06/2018
Dec 6, 2018
Dec 6, 2018 at 5:09 PM UTC
When you take a ****
And I ain't talking no "ploop ploop" kind of ****
I'm talking a HUGE MASSIVE MONSTER DUMP THAT MAY HAVE KILLED YOUR SISTER SITTING IN THE OTHER ROOM kind of ****
And then you realize,
There is no toilet paper.
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 9:43 PM UTC
the universe will end
with an onomatopoeia
blink
ploop
maybe the sound
when you turn off a tv
and then that silence
hanging up near the ceiling
presses down
the end of everything
will be just like that
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 6:52 PM UTC
Splish, splish, ploop.
A stone gently disturbs
the plane of the mirror,
before descending
into undisclosed depths.
Ripples erupt, breaking
the surface of the tarn.
As the current subsides—
splish, splish, ploop.
What if we could
live and die,
creating such soft—
such token undulations?
Splish, splish, ploop.
Let’s cause cosmic waves
of compassion and aegis
for the planet,
our companion-
leaving, as such, small
wrinkles and blemishes
upon the surface.
Splish, splish, ploop.
A. I. Myles 2o June, 2o19
@athenaeumthoughts
Jun 22, 2019
Jun 22, 2019 at 12:25 AM UTC
Pitter-patter
plip-plop-ploop
rain falls on the window
Sill as, pondering invisible thoughts, you
stare out at gray weather
looking as though you yourself
once upon a time
fell from on high
like these drops of water
to soak, and saturate
my life.
My thoughts run smooth
As I regard you.
alike heavy watercolors and inks
on paper you dye me.
And when they ask
about the changing colors of my canvas.
I'll answer that raindrops
fell as I floated down
down the river of time
and so of course was soaked.
Aug 19, 2017
Aug 19, 2017 at 11:30 PM UTC
An Irishman once had the luck
To find a free chicken to cluck:
They went to the coop
Where the chicken would ploop,
But the chicken, turns out, was a duck.
Mar 14, 2025
Mar 14, 2025 at 11:17 PM UTC
i don't know about you, but ******** out
a high-fibre ****
out of your ***
feels just as good,
if not more,
as good,
as having an ******
**** when that slug slides
out?
thump! plop! ploop!
given that...
i can't imagine shoving anything
up that alley...
there's too much
pleasure easing something out
from that cul de sac....
why would i even want to
stick something in there?
perhaps having ******** allows
you to make that comparison...
taking a **** can feel
just as good as having an ******
or urinating, with a ********
but that's just me...
we know how western society
is oh so objective / "scientific"...
so... why would we need food critics for?
or wine critics?
it either tastes great...
or it tastes like ****
if we're being so ******* scientific,
do we need these scientific
differentiations to be respected in our,
so called, society?
who needs them?!
off to the guillotine with them,
alongside that ***** of an antoinette!
what sort of society prizes
itself as being primordially-scientific,
clueless ******* objective by my say,
and then champions restaurant critics,
or food critics... or critics for their own
worth...
what part of giving a critique of food
is objective, to later bombast a stance
for championing darwinism as the pinnacle
of humanity's total worth?
maybe i missed something.
anglophone wankers;
have a jerk-and-whammy on this crap!
like all of engloosh science:
robin hood, who could, but never would.
May 21, 2017
May 21, 2017 at 2:25 PM UTC
I love to sleep when it rains
The sound is like a sleeping spell
Trapped in that enchantment
I slowly dozed off on my bed
.
....
Plops
Plop ploop
Plopplopplopplop
Ploploplopplopploplop
.........................on it goes
Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
.........................
...........
..
See how I made you try to figure out what that plop thing is shaped as?
Any guesses?
Feb 22, 2018
Feb 22, 2018 at 6:14 AM UTC