"suess" poems
If you were literature
I'd tattoo you all over me
and let you seep through my skin
filling my veins with your words.
There are a lot of pieces that make up the English language:
capitals, semicolons, that ******* Oxford comma
but you,
you give english a definition.
Love, when you speak to me
I see the word bubbles levitating above your head
pinning down each sentence with fragments of your voice
your lips form stories,
the kind I actually like reading
the poems that leave me wanting more
and trust me
I DO WANT MORE.
But I'm Dr. Suess
and you are Shakespear.
I'm sorry, I'm not what you deserve
that my lines are crooked
and pages wrinkled
that you deserve heavenly white sheets
to share the curvature of your letters with
If only I could hold the spiral notebook that is you
caress your leather cover
I would whisper all the definitions
inscribed in my brain associated with your existence,
trying to untangle the string of words you knotted.
But reality isn't written.
I cannot serenade you with my words
you will forever be on top of this modern caste system
and there are no ladders
how can I talk to you at a football game
when you're the one on the field
that today is survival of the fittest,
if someone were to take you into their arms
it would boost their reputation,
but you are not my reputation
You are the language I want to speak
You are the lyrics to every song
You are all my favorite words.
And yes, I may just be the
routinely period at the end of your sentences
and the chances of being with you shouldn't even be considered
"chances"
but since someone such as you exists,
I can promise.
I can promise you
all these imperfect sweet nothings
until my pen runs out of ink.
Always.
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 11:58 PM UTC
A is for anthill which I have in my drive
B is for buzzing from a hidden bee hive
C is for cockroach that run all round the house
D is for droppings, that have been left by a mouse
E is for egg sack that hangs in my trees
F is for flying which the bugs do with ease
G is is for gophers which inhabit my yard
H is for hillocks with which my yard is marred
I is for insects which are all I can see
J is for june bugs, they're as big as my knee
K is for killing which I try to do
L is for lugworms that are shaped like a *****
M is for Mickey and his mousey like friends
N is for never...this infestation won't end
O is for Oscar, my scared orange cat
P is for well...pee...and he's good at that
Q is for quinine which I leave out to treat
R is for rodents, which I want Oscar to eat
S is for slugs which are killing my grass
T is for totalled, just give me a match and some gas
U is for underwriter who has insured my place
V is for vermin, that now own all my space
W is for water with which I started a flood
X is for poison, which will thin out their blood
Y is for Yertle, a turtle by suess
Z is me sleeping...to bugs and vermin on the loose
Sep 13, 2012
Sep 13, 2012 at 7:43 PM UTC
Fake love, true love, red love, blue love,
***** love with cherries on top.
Love is a four letter word - like a curse.
**** **** **** **** love."
Go put your wishing-well penny in the swear jar.
Love is like pasta,
A flavor-holder for tomato gravy adjectives:
"unconditional", "passionate", and "infinite".
I'll take mine al dente.
You're not "in love", you're "on love",
Because cloud nine gets you higher than *******
But you fall harder when you come down.
Why write about love?
Why not write about socks?
I'm sure they're almost as universal.
They sure hurt less.
Except when one gets lost in the dryer
And you are left wondering
What you did to make your left sock hate you.
Oct 17, 2012
Oct 17, 2012 at 2:51 AM UTC
we got a goldfish,
for my little boy.
a tank, some coloured grit, three plants not two,
must practise goldfish fung shu.
all the water testing guff
and of course a filter.
a sunken ship
and a treasure chest .
we paid the pirate...
and took our ***** home.
so we set Bruce.
( for that was the name chosen).
up in pride of place on sidboard.
the list, above,
was positioned after meetings of commision. water tested to the highest degree,
filter fizzing, wizzing,whirring.
Bruce swam in his bag
in the tank,
for a time as instructed.
then released to a slightly larger freedom.
he swam and swam,
golden scales a flickerin.
we, (that being, mr just about three and his dad)
fed him, watched him poo, and eventually,
read Bruce,
a bedtime tale or two.
one fish, two fish by Dr Suess went down a treat.
the little man then,
was bundled off to bed.
thoughts of Bruce left our heads.
the evening lengthened.
we retired to sleep the sleep, of ignorance it conspired.
for in our planning we forgot one thing.
a devon rex cat,
who has a bath weekly,
a penchant for tuna,
no top to the tank.
so we thank the lord
for Bruce. however,
brief was his reign.
now we introduce
to you....
Murtle the turtle
who has a glass pane,
sitting above her head.
just in case......
the cat likes, turtle soup.
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 12:07 AM UTC
hey buddy did u know that under a powerful microscope a wood chip resembles our universe just let that sink in
we are so small we are so fricking small ok u hav to make yrself known or else u'll forever be nothing but a tiny floating speck
is that what u want to be for the rest of yr life??? a **** fricking speck no i dont think so
thats some horton hears a who type **** ok thats not ok
u know what else
no matter how known u make yrself u will always be just a tiny little speck but hey u know what
some specks can be bigger than other specks and this is not always physical
sometimes the traces u leave behind are bigger than u will ever be
so make a **** impact
voice yr stupid dumb beautiful opinions and voice them loud
be the tiniest speck and climb up as high as u can get and fricking shout at the top of ur little speck lungs
we are here were r here we r here and all that good jazz u kno
did i just write a poem about horton hears a who *******
shoutout to dr. suess for being a radass motherhecker thats some deep crap right there ****
May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 4:43 AM UTC
Ever had a rhythm stuck in your mind?
Something like Suess with his Cat and his rhymes?
At this moment I do.
I don't want colored meat
or mean nasty guys,
I don't fit on a speck or live in a pocket.
I am just me and I love it.
This rhythm may not make sense.
But neither does hopping on Dads or tying horns to your pets.
This is random and coarse with some smooth fitted in.
Childhood memories coming back and no longer dim.
We long for the days where nonsense was fact
Try as we may we can't get those times back.
So I'll enjoy my socks and box and fox
And i promise to look out for that dreadful lorax!
**I'll skip down the lane where memories meet.
I'll share with my children the wonders of this world,
Where imagination and reality can become swirled.**
Oct 20, 2011
Oct 20, 2011 at 4:34 AM UTC
Now it might be hard to understand
But just for a moment I ask that you try to comprehend
The idea, the marvel, the miracle
Of learning love’s true definition from a child less than 3 years young
Her name was Amelia Lyon, but she was called Amy Lou
And her hair was up like Whoville’s own Cindy Lou Who
Dr. Suess would’ve been proud
I’m sure he would’ve loved Amelia, as did every single person of every single crowd
We would bring her with us to Disneyland
The happiest place on earth for both woman and man
And little Amy loved every second of it
With a wide smile, never crying, not even a bit
Bearing the power of a simple smile, and a thousand suns
She would light the very streets she crossed
Reaching out and attacking strangers was far from seldom
With a beautiful kiss of innocence, sincerity, we watched as joy would blossom
Did she discriminate?
Did she decide who to incriminate?
No, you see, Amelia would never
If someone was hurt, and broken, she could make all things better
A beautiful soul
To match a beautiful girl
I learned, let me tell you
What true love is, something new
Something that is rarely practiced
But only talked about, and the fact is
I’ve never seen love quite like this!
It was sincere, and it was real and it was amazing
A special perspective, a new trail she was blazing
And now I know what true love is
Humble, supportive, and nonjudgemental
Kind, gorgeous and always gentle
Thank You, Amy Lou.
One day, I hope to be like you.
But now she's gone, at two and a half you were taken from us
So unique, Heaven, God, and the Angels were jealous
Do I feel robbed? Do I feel cheated?
Certainly not! Because I know who I shall see when I am greeted
There she will be, adorable and precious
That gleaming smile with a child’s eyes
At the opening of the Gates, it will be glorious
Because finally, that disguise, that shroud of earthliness
Will have been torn away, and we will forever be united again
My baby sister, my Amelia Lyon, my Amy Lou
I miss you so very dearly, my little Cindy Lou Who
With love, bittersweet tears, and a heart deeply aching
Your brother, Remington Charles King
Jan 17, 2014
Jan 17, 2014 at 5:03 AM UTC
What exactly would you get
if writers changed the things they wrote
If painters changed their style
And singers butchered every note
Romance books by Stephen King
Horrors told by Suess
Comedic plays by E.A. Poe
And **** by Mother Goose
Dali paints like Monet
Monet paints like Degas
Van gogh would hang his brushes up
And go and detail cars
Michael Buble singing screamo
Operatic stuff by ****
Yoko Ono would seem right in tune
It's enough to make one sick
I hope it never happens
It would change things quite a lot
But you know, I think that **** by
Mother Goose could be quite hot!
Sep 6, 2012
Sep 6, 2012 at 4:02 PM UTC
I took tea with Dr. Suess
He was really quite polite
He tipped his hat, tall and round
And always spoke in rhyme.
He told me stories of Sam I Am
Between bites of pasteries
I told him how I loved to write
And that he inspired me.
His cheeks turned a cherry red
As he wiped at his mustache
I laughed at his quick ancedote
About Cat In The Hat.
All too soon, the clock struck noon
He said he had to leave
He paid the tab, then tipped his hat
And said "goodday" to me.
Jul 22, 2010
Jul 22, 2010 at 11:58 AM UTC
Love:
laying bricks in a line
or a least a lie with N
monotony. Standing in line, at the end,
until the begin
NEXT!
...ing.
Pretending, that was doing something.
Like a verb, perturbing, unsettling.
Cold air is causing nerve ending
stand
NEXT!
...up. Back of the neck rub
Trapped like a spider in a covered tub.
Seems wide till the world opens wide and there's a snub
from the passing yacht club as it crashes into the hub.
Now aren't you glad you got grub instead of a ticket
NEXT!
...stub? Chop and bop.
Hop on the bed, called Dr. Suess' pop.
Lets swap places. Straighten the tie, I am a flop
fop. Harvesting their crop of heads. Onomatopoeia plop
NEXT
May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 1:19 AM UTC
"What happened to the girl I used to know?"
She's still here. She will always be here. I still love pickles more than eating a regular meal. I still love watching Coraline even though I've seen it 67 times and I still cry when she finds the 3 lost children soul. I still draw like I'm in grade 5. I still read Doctor Suess books for inspiration because he was a genius, yeah I said it. But people have to grow up, things become hard and complicated. One day you're going to a sleepover then waking up to a call that your dad had a heart attack and has died. Then you blink and you're starting at him while he's laying there in a coffin while your mom has buried her head into his chest crying and crying Because she has to lose the love of her life today. While your grandmother is rubbing her back because she has to say goodbye to her son today. Do not ask me "what happened to me" I am only 16 and I have to worry about my mom not falling apart and I have to teach my brothers things 16 years shouldn't have to teach younger children. You do not get the right to ask me anything because I am trying my best and I am sorry I haven't been able to feed your ego lately.
Feb 28, 2016
Feb 28, 2016 at 6:46 PM UTC
Sometimes I will talk like Dr. Suess
Using fuzzlewumps and scalashamoosh.
Made up words are lots of fun to say
Like bimbozzled, fimtosseled, and swinsway!
But some people give me funny looks
When I compliment their parpingsonsooks
Madame, you misunderstand my thoughts!
I mean that I like your polkadot socks.
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 7:31 PM UTC
Since I've been writing, its been just great
Except for the one thing that I surely do hate
My family says that, I am speaking in rhyme
Not just right now, but all of the time
I can not simply, just ask for the juice
Without a poor imitation of the great Dr. Suess
But wait, on my site, there is prose, so you say
Oh, I was much younger when I wrote it that way
Help me, help me, tell me what can I do?
Surely this problem has happened to you
I just had a thought, not a thought, just a flicker
You could have answered, but I guess I was quicker
I'll think of a word that never can rhyme
And start using that word, all of the time
I know there's a word, I once heard from a fellow
I think it's a color but not red, blue, or yellow
I hope it's not pink, cause that would sure stink
I wish it was gray, I've been rhyming all day
I know you think orange, except that rhymes with sporange
And a mountain in Wales, that a poet named Blorenge
Until I stubbed my big toe, I used to think purple,
And now I can't walk, instead I just hirple
It sure would be gold if the color was silver
But that **** little lamb, also known as a chilver
There's no hope for me, I've been rhyming all month
I'm sure you can see, that I'm totally ??????
Yeah!
Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 8:32 PM UTC
"Green eggs and Ham" my favorite rhyme
it corners a simple point in time
when all was good and hearts held droll
when the words had meaning and the writers soul
I cheer them on these writers wrongs
the wolf the pigs and dinah's ****
I sail close to words with heart
whether prose or rhyme its the greats I chart
simple are the words they speak
a letter a symbol... not much to tweek
Yes, it corners just that point in time
when being good was not a crime
when genuine banter then cooled the hearts
along side of the pie and the apple tarts
So what likes do our children have of rhyme?
is it zombies, death, blood and crime
I sob now for new writers wrongs
they write not of the bluebirds songs
I cerish this rhyme "Green eggs and Ham"
now should we write for our children?
would they give a ****
Dec 31, 2012
Dec 31, 2012 at 2:45 PM UTC
I wish I could show you my world of writing.
I wish I could be in the tall purple-glazed mountains with Shakespeare and Harper Lee,
I wish I could say I don’t pay a weekly visit to spell check.
I wish I could write like my mother, the queen of the world.
I wish I could dive into wet words,
Instead of hitting my head on the concrete of writers block.
I wish I could tell you this was a poem,
If only it were such a beautiful thing.
I wish I could say I write as much as Suess
Or as frightening as King
Or even as published as... E. L. James...
I wish I could say my world of writing is filled with happy thoughts,
That flow gently through the streams,
As opposed to the real thoughts that pollute the water throughout the world.
I wish I could say I could write an untainted, uncliched romance novel,
Or write of mysteries I could answer.
I wish I could tell you this isn’t my first poem my world has seen in weeks.
Nov 4, 2012
Nov 4, 2012 at 7:27 PM UTC
A pleasant feeling, almost like pride
but less, not a lot less,
just enough
that it is what it is
genuine and unexpected
my surprise
here where I've posted
my words?... Those times,...
I longed,.. I hurt,..
I listened to My inner most...
finding my mind in written form
in portions and pieces,
exposed and analyzed
emotions and reasons
written in desperation
the worst of the lows
loneliness behind most my posts
Self medication
through words, rhymes
Untrained and imperfect,
sometimes dr. suess'ish
thought of, drawn out, organized and submitted
to the purpose
of getting to know myself
bit by bit, line by line
in fragments
and avalanches
of brutal honesty
To lie, to oneself
is daily practice
encouraged by what we see,
listen to, and all the things we wish
we could buy, to fill the void
is to fail, to ruin
lies in the lines
i made real
the intimate, too personal,
my vital moments
times that I see myself
behind older eyes
a child that was good once,
I was special
just like so many others
I still hurt,
just like so many on this site
So many minds, so alike, so close
feeling alone,
with out each other
so we wonder, we think,
we write,
so they might
esteem like light
eases the dark
moods, beliefs,
easing the hostility felt inside
I am, sometimes capable
of exceptional things
talented... I can create...
I log on here, and I read,
and I see others
so many minds, so alike,
without each other
they write, and they read
and I am trending?
my heart and hurt,
my highs and lows
the entire search of my life,
my reasons...
worthy of their time!...
and I am encouraged.
Oct 25, 2013
Oct 25, 2013 at 3:12 AM UTC
For now,
I want to write these happy words.
And I don't want to think about
How anything might hurt.
I feel a mind state reminiscent of Dr. Suess,
No feelings of worry about you
Weighing round my neck like a noose.
The difference between them and you,
I feel a glow of perfection. Maybe it is
Your love of my perspective
Influencing my mood.
Whatever it is, I want to see it through.
Though it's not really a choice
I'm glad it's something
I'm looking forward to.
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 2:15 AM UTC
Shannadoa, laquadesh. Batta-anna, mlick ka dek.
Philly fickle ******
Nickle dime dash,
Dangle ****** bongle,
Bickle bockle bash,
Sunny sun sunshine,
Beady brain bright,
****** lovey Mondays,
Matthew mum might.
Oct 10, 2016
Oct 10, 2016 at 10:49 PM UTC
For Dr. Suess
Who can hear you?
He who hears Whos
Wish I could hear half as well
And what is a Who anyhow?
Do such tiny people really exist?
Is the town of Who-ville a true ville?
Perhaps if I had elephant ears
Maybe I could hear a Who too
As it is I can hardly hear you
But last night in a dream
Horton whispered his secret
An axiom kind and smart:
You only listen with your ears
You hear people with your heart
Mar 2, 2010
Mar 2, 2010 at 11:35 AM UTC
the elephant sits quietly
in the corner,
reading Holmes
as we tiptoe through the to,
too many words,that slipped
from tequila lips
and open-gated brains.
the leopard,
is in the bathroom
tinting his fur
to an even shade of black
and the owl
is busy outside
trying to get
the wisdom of the ages
safely back.... inside.
monkey saw,
monkey did,
monkey lies,
monkey defies,
monkey now,
in the barrel
with a nailed-down lid.
and the whale sings,
a mournful song.
the dolphins,
once again,
thank us for the fish
and then move on.
but still,
the elephant sits
and reads on...
as we fervently wish
the dormouse to appear
and slap the mopey begger
on his ample rear.
*with nods of thanks to:
folklore, CS Lewis, Dr Suess
and Douglass Adams
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 9:23 AM UTC
I am not a poet
i certainly know it
but these rhymes in my head
i must write them...and show it
on this site
there are beautiful words
they come from the minds
of those ..such as yours
poems are beautiful
they may make you cry
the rhymes that i write
you'll ask yourself why
i'm a big fan of seuss
the dr. of who's
does it show very much
or no..such luck
i love to read what you people write
your words are sound
your words are bright
maybe someday...i can do the same
but in the meantime...i've something to say
i know the difference between the varities
poems and odes and lyrical remedies
i love all that you write
keep up the good work
i'll start leaving comments
on superior work.....
my work is dark
and dreary too
i will write something special
just for you.......
you'll know when you see it...
it will be sad and blue
on wings of a dove
without the dark hue.....
what makes you a poet
i do not know
but the thoughts we all write
are certainly true
of love and brutality
and thing's that are cruel
i see many styles...amongst all these pages
none like my own....god somebody save us
i'm tryin my best....it's all new to me
i'm digging much deeper...you probably see
in case your wondering...i must tell you this
i miss dr suess and his lickity split
but something is real....i know for a fact...
i am but a man
who does like green eggs...with bacon not ham.......
Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 7:29 PM UTC
I am from pancakes, from ovaltine and cheerios
I am from an empty street that welcomes bare feet at twilight
I am from a big green back yard
from lilacs and daffodils
valentines and Easter eggs
from road trips in the van
And tuna sandwiches with extra mayonnaise
I am from being late to everything
And bedtime and naptime
From Bactine and band aids and bee stings and remember to wear shoes
when you ride your scooter
or walk over the pine needles
or under the slide where the grass is dry and sharp
I am from everyone is equal and religion is not a bad thing
And no one is wrong to believe,
But you don’t have to.
I am from Cheese pizza and Chocolate Milk
From the dinner bell when dad gets home from work
Or the candy cookie at the end of the day
if you help mom with the groceries
I am from waffles and homemade peach ice cream on the forth of July
From water melon and doctor Suess on a picnic blanket
From Crayons and markers and coloring books
I am from stuffed animals covered in dust cause you left them outside
From ski school
From pink lemonade and M&Ms;
I am from no matter how cold that water is
I will swim in the rivers and oceans
I am from flying kites
From riding bikes to the end of the street
From sleeping outside on the deck
But not the whole night,
Cause you start to miss your bed.
I am from Halloween is scary sometimes-
And so is the queen in Snow White and Sleeping Beauty
And the witch in the Wizard of Oz
And the abominable snowman in Rudolph
From I think we will stick to the jungle Book and Lady and the *****
I am from snowmen and sledding hills and hot chocolate
with extra marsh mellows
From hanging Christmas lights in a snowstorm
And Dads sorry he let you jump off the deck
when you hit your nose to your knee-
He thought the snow was deep enough.
I am from Sprinklers and Trampolines
From Lodge Pole, Columbine, Bear Tree
From Ten minutes to bedtime
Junie B Jones Clifford the Big Red Dog and Bear in the Big Blue House
I am from Juice Coffee and Cinnamon toast
From broken heels and Sticky fingers
From counting stairs and sheep and pennies
and the days until Christmas
From the top of Dad shoulders at the tree lighting
From falling asleep with your head in Moms lap
in the booth at the restaurant.
I am from love
From hugs and kisses and holding on to one another so tight
Because what other way to show them you care.
Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 1:30 AM UTC
On THIS day,
Without regret,
Without fear,
Paying my debt,
To the universe or destiny,
Whichever saw fit,
To have me like your comment,
As I sat to **** (Lol. Not really, but needed rhyme bahahaha;)
I give thanks,
To whatever it be,
That allowed me to view,
And actually see,
Your most beautiful soul,
Built from the stars,
Outlasting relationships
And materialistic cars.
I am not a poet.
These words are not mine;
But left upon my being
Across all space and time.
To send out to you,
To confirm you know well,
There is only the heavens,
There is no fiery hell.
Only the one ****** upon us,
On this rock we now stand,
Fashioned by ignorance,
Of a far lesser man.
Whom can't see your beauty,
Your sparkle, your shine.
Whom fate has put in the distance
Kissing his own behind.
You'll stretch now.
You'll glow.
You'll see what I see.
You'll fashion your future
With support and "yippie's" from me.
Dr Suess, another ENTP,
Will be quite jealous
Of our friendship, and me.
He'll yell "What is THIS; That I see?
As The Cat in the Hat goes flat splat
Wondering of you and me.
"How CAN this BEEEEEE??!?!??
That from 100 INFJs,
He chose only YOU
To build a friendship
And build you less blue?"
We will not answer,
But leave it to the stars,
To light our paths,
Raising our bars;
To not accept,
Less than we deserve,
To remind each other of that,
When life throws us curves.
I'll be your shoulder,
From this day own,
To love you as you'll allow,
While your off the ****
I'll be your support,
If only as friend,
That is my promise
Until the very end.
Until the stars burn out, with a kiss, goodnight.
Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 12:54 AM UTC
Because my kiss is like frequency and measure as the waves
My lips stays Plumper as a ripe cherry on a hot day
Just waiting to be kiss, in the moonlight:
The littlest things we dream about, that is so dear
Can be detrimental, because of modern technology
The lack of touch, the loss of sound, gone forever:
Shall we continued to forget the walks in the park
Making love in the dark, under the starry sky
Just to be trade in by the late nights video chatting?
Being an advocate of love, a unmasked spiritual intruder:
I enter the winging maypole of merry gestor: In my mind
because, my kiss is like frequency and measure as the waves
my opinion on the subject matter, never matters
P.S
*Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind.” Dr Suess
Feb 17, 2019
Feb 17, 2019 at 9:24 AM UTC
I once knew a Child,
that liked to Laugh at,
the on going antics...
of the "Cat in the Hat"
He liked to eat Jam
he was a picky eater
never would he eat
"Green Eggs and Ham"
He wishes for things
he could do like
"Horton hears a Who"
That boy now Grown
writes his own poems,
He knows with a cinch
it began with "The Grinch"
and Thanks Dr. Suess
who put his pen to use,
and made him a poet.
He Knows it..............JMF/2/20/15
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 3:36 PM UTC