"sploshing" poems
We'd found an old Boche dug-out, and he knew,
And gave us hell, for shell on frantic shell
Hammered on top, but never quite burst through.
Rain, guttering down in waterfalls of slime,
Kept slush waist-high and rising hour by hour,
And choked the steps too thick with clay to climb.
What murk of air remained stank old, and sour
With fumes of whizz-bangs, and the smell of men
Who'd lived there years, and left their curse in the den,
If not their corpses...
There we herded from the blast
Of whizz-bangs, but one found our door at last,
Buffeting eyes and breath, snuffing the candles,
And thud! flump! thud! down the steep steps came thumping
And sploshing in the flood, deluging muck -
The sentry's body; then his rifle, handles
Of old Boche bombs, and mud in ruck on ruck.
We dredged him up, for killed, until he whined
'O sir, my eyes - I'm blind, - I'm blind, I'm blind!'
Coaxing, I held a flame against his lids
And said if he could see the least blurred light
He was not blind; in time he'd get all right.
'I can't' he sobbed. Eyeballs, huge-bulged like squids',
Watch my dreams still; but I forgot him there
In posting Next for duty, and sending a scout
To beg a stretcher somewhere, and flound'ring about
To other posts under the shrieking air.
* * *
Those other wretches, how they bled and spewed,
And one who would have drowned himself for good, -
I try not to remember these things now.
Let dread hark back for one word only: how
Half-listening to that sentry's moans and jumps,
And the wild chattering of his broken teeth,
Renewed most horribly whenever crumps
Pummelled the roof and slogged the air beneath, -
Through the dense din, I say, we heard him shout
'I see your lights!' But ours had long died out.
2.5k
*Bubbles, bubbles in a bath,
Splashing child, melodic laugh,
Fishy, fishy with sploshing tail,
Brings a giggle without fail.
Water, water everywhere,
Brings a tear when poured on hair,
Soapy, soapy on the belly,
Leaving infant with fruity smelly.
"Me out, me out" it's time to go,
Watery footprints on the floor,
Squashy, squashy, towelling dry,
A clean little monkey, with gleam in eye.*
© Cinco Espiritus Creation
2016
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 5:45 AM UTC
With lift-off intention I jumped to fly.
I was something like root grounded tree.
Taking flight was so absolutely hard,
though my guru counseled me.
With acquired and studied implements
I tried to cut each holding.
My intellect in truth was rather dull,
though Spirit bolding.
In hieroglyphic's manual page 222
I intuited hints, incantations true.
Here for scheming:
Fly-O Fly-O Fly Fly-O!
I recited that fortissimo for a week
in lucid dreaming.
Then my weighed body, my un-weighed soul
together I suppose remembered it simply,
that God had intimated flight for me
(gratuitously gave).
In classical mind's eye I spied
Icarus sploshing in a wave.
Entered in-- Ab-or-ig-inal Self.
Whoa, I said, hello!
shocked at that showing.
I know... I know... I know...
with ease -- be natural, just be still.
Unequivocally state
(this way make your start)
I need help.
so I believed it
I spoke it
and then I sailed and sailed away
with freedom, my heart.
Jun 10, 2017
Jun 10, 2017 at 7:05 AM UTC
No waves
No shore
Not deep
Not sandy
Perfect tempature
Perfect size
Cross legged inside a bucket of water
My little prince looks cuter
You don't have to be under the sun
Splish sploshing indoors is also fun
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 3:52 PM UTC
He strode out into the rain
Smiling subtly
There was a controlled ecstasy
To his movements
Like a subdued explosion
Like meeting an old friend
Peter, cascades
Patcher, plummets
To the beat of
Tip tap slippers
Sploshing in unison
To the tune of the falling rain
Arms outspread
He was as they say
A walking cliche
Aug 26, 2010
Aug 26, 2010 at 7:57 AM UTC
Memories of old,
flooding fast through my mind,
some tinged with sadness
and some, sweet sublime.
A fireside reverie shared
with eyes so bright,
an audience of innocence
and excited delight.
The crackling logs
on the fires of time,
the little rapt faces as
you feed them a line.
Of thunder, lightning,
and rain as we run!
Football, toy-fighting,
such laughter and fun.
Flying a kite that
you made on your own
out of bin bags and tape
and canes tied and bowed.
A dam in the brook,
fighting flowing water
with rocks, wood
and uncontrolled laughter.
Till finally plugged,
the waters rise
deeper and wider
before delighted eyes.
Then comes the challenge,
“Who can burst the dam?”
No touching allowed,
just throw what you can.
Bricks and sticks
and boulders and all,
sploshing and splashing
they uselessly fall.
But the water's still rising
and there's panic in our eyes,
it'll soon reach the road,
“Better run for our lives!”
But wait, what’s this,
could this do the trick?
As long as a gate post
and three times as thick.
We wrestle and heave
and drag it uphill,
pushing and pulling
and testing our will.
Till finally atop and
we let out a sigh,
this might just work,
“We'll give it a try”.
Straining and grunting
and chuckling with glee
as we swing it between us,
one...two...three!
With a whoosh and a crack
our dam is no more
as the post breaks its back
and we’re laughing on the floor.
Such innocent times,
that can still make me grin,
they live in the mind
of the sweet child within.
Written by Darren Scanlon, March 2011.
This revised version written, 17th July 2015.
©2015 Darren Scanlon. All rights reserved.
Jul 17, 2015
Jul 17, 2015 at 11:42 AM UTC
Fiery broth and witch's brew
Foamy froth and riches blue
Fume and spume and spoondrift spray
Fizzle swizzle shout hooray
Watch it sloshing, swashing, sploshing
Hear it hissing, squishing, spissing
Grandma better start to pray.
Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 6:55 AM UTC
Which way is up
raise me high above these embittered troughs
let not my feet, or toes be dipped in its slop.
Like pigs-starved-I watch their thickened tongues
lick and slurp the trash thrown down before them.
Laugh I would but the scene is just to dire
instead i let a salted tear expire,
and as it rolls and drops from my darkened cheek
I watch it wasted away.
Don't let me fall, but hold my numbed hands firm.
Pay no attention to the omen clouds or gales
keep our fingers steadfastly intertwined.
Eyes turned upward watching sky
watching you watch me with saintly eyes
watching you out pour from wing outstretched
the light of His divine holiness.
As higher up we fly
though my arms are tired and worn
and my eyes badly stung
my heart is filled until its sploshing
joy that others wish to taste twice over.
Under many spectrum s of light
we melt effortlessly through.
Safe you guide me to that overlook.
did you always know even through my darkened times
that this journey here would end sublime?
"Which way is up" I asked when first you came
I watched the animals watch as i was raised
they tried to lift their necks bowed low in vain.
From pure gales He cleaned my soul anew
you must have known how this would end
each day that passed your smile did only expand.
so here we are, and from that dark-wooded hold
we stand before His golden gates-Behold!
Sep 10, 2010
Sep 10, 2010 at 3:58 PM UTC
Rosemary spotted a big rat in the water
Her Momma wasn't particularly impressed with her finding
Rain drops hung on their waxy, pink skin
In the rain they looked like two rain-hammered flowers
All around them was muck
The boy came sploshing through the floody water
The scrawny thing was shivering and he-
Embraced her Momma
Her Momma let him join her under the umbrella
(And there was on her Momma lips a big Momma smile)
Rosemary was quick-she saw that he'd bent his head
And was burrowing... burrowing between her Momma's legs
He pulled down his shorts; his little bums were saggy
Rosemary hated her Momma for standing dumb and dumbly gasping
She hit the boy on the back of his kitten head
And clawed off a slice of his peachy ***
(Still he clung to her Momma, like a half-shaved dog)
And then she said:
'I know your parents. I'm gonna tell'em'
That drained all glee from his fiendish mien
He stood there for a moment before he pulled his tee over head
And when he was gone, Rosemary let her *** pass down her legs
(As she often did in the rain)
Aug 27, 2018
Aug 27, 2018 at 12:39 PM UTC
TEARS OF MARBLE
( for Ita, Danny, Junie and Brian )
the angel rests her head
against mine
uses my tears
to cry
for marble is unable
to bear such human pain
the sorrow within..welling
overwhelming the eyes
here lies buried all
I hold most dear
I weep for myself
that I
am left behind
this sadness
this greif
bereft of mind
and only now
can the angel cry
great big fat tears
of rain
sploshing upon my eyes
shut tight
yet still seeing
her soft shy carved smile
marble and human both
cry in vain
the heavens open
I drenched to the skin
Heaven refusing
to let me in
May 30, 2018
May 30, 2018 at 11:24 AM UTC