We here at the goat farm
will never do you any harm.
We just want a chance
to eat your shirt and pants.
Soft eyed promoter, softer
Evening's light within
One hare, of what, too, my heart
Drew, moistily, out.
Through which quietness, more airs'
Wild herb scents hung in
Enlarged a soul's own focus.
"Bondship,!" Each thought-sprout.
Held down, as firmly
As unforgettable
No amount of wind or rain
Has erased - ever!
By that, antlered. Stag's.
That, curly horned. Sheep's.
Knolled, or a rock ledge upon.
If raised speech - farther!
cuckoo bystander
hippies hound
desecrate passing
shrewdly badmouth
siegfried bobcat
wake european
spirits enlisting
the globally
fortuitousness by
reading rhythmic
confrontation dutifully
fluster fission
spat and
unite your
sourness unlearned
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • September 7–13, 2026)
Before the midnight hour chimed
A white wolf crossed albescent snow
And saw me with its diamond eyes
Shining right into my soul
I miss the woods where Dad and I
Sat by the coppice of conifer trees
The warmth of the winter sun piqued my mind
Nature’s aroma wafting in the breeze
The years have eased the ache of loss
And let the Northwoods live once more
White snow, warm meals, and paths we crossed
Return like footsteps to my door
For every memory, I give thanks
For love, that time cannot unravel
And pray beyond these earthly banks
We’ll meet in Heaven by God’s gavel
“Somewhere beyond the sink-hole, past the magnolia, under the live oaks, a boy and a yearling ran side by side, and were gone forever.” ~ The final sentence of The Yearling by Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings.
A child was gone forever…
Was I, too, once a child?
Would it be that never,
I’d again run free and wild?
Would I simply pass away
like little Fodder-wing,
not to see another day
where I might fly or sing?
Lately, I’ve been thinking of
a brand-new hopeful dawn,
and the feel of earnest love -
of Jody and his fawn.
I saw a waterwheel, saw a rabbit,
took more than just a look.
Another’s soul, I’d inhabit
in the chapters of a book.
Lost forever to the ages,
a long, forgotten “when” -
four hundred thirty pages
gave me childhood again.
What sort of beast
is made with yeast?
That kind of critter
is called an apple fritter.
Only birds know,
The Nature of Time,
The merle, the seagulls,
Everyone knows her,
The snail also knows
The nature of time,
Slowness is very useful,
The beautiful deer, too
know this nature,
He mates every season,
The elephant also knows
The nature of time, which passes,
He controls his power,
The turtle doesn’t like it
Let us have manners,
She’s nodding her head,
The butterfly, finally
Knows his misfortune,
His days are numbered.
Only the man runs after Time.
A dawn chorus of unfamiliar birdsong woke me before first light. I had slept well despite the night sounds of a nightjar and the heavy breathing of unseen animals beyond my tent. Before exhaustion finally claimed me, a feeling of inevitability had washed over me.
we can't change circumstances
embracing moments
taking stock
we are either the hunter or the hunted
what part do we play
in the dance of life?
bobcat awakened
complaisant bystander
confrontation
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • September 7–13, 2026)
A POND’S-EYE MORNING VIEW
Right of the center
of the cosmic stage,
the rising sun disrobes
its horizon and announces
the arrival of another bright day.
Wading towards a pond,
a family of cute ducks,
Stretch and wiggle
their yawning wings.
The chloroplast bodies
of fueling algae around the pond,
capture the shining rays of the sun;
energizing the multi-life community:-
In the pond’s park of lily pads
and varied shapes of rocks,
aroused young frogs hopscotch
from one landing to another
Barking and running the pond’s banks,
a swaggering beagle chases a thirsty squirrel
back up the trunk of its tall sage resident-tree:-
Up on the street atop the pond’s hill,
car horns blast as rushing drivers
pass by—chatting on cell phones—
using front windshield mirrors,
getting their faces ready for the day:-
Thus, our morning view,
as my dog and I continue
our ramble around the pond :-
Ole bass haunts the pond.
His back spasms and he's gone.
Just a silt shadow.
In Devon, Gina was mad at Sarah and so
Took Sarah's kitten, to the kitchen did go
Put it the microwave, pushed the button in
Kitten died in pain, I'd call that a sin.
Two teens in Juniata did the same as a prank
For them its fun, but to me it stank.
Is it something missing in the mind, or converse
A dark side that drives their morals in reverse?
Two teens in Alberta broke into a home, so brave
Smashed it up, put the cat in a microwave
Listened to it scream in pain before it died
Painted two mocking messages on the side.
Two teen girls in Maine put a cat - guess where:
They made a video on social media to share
Sharing cruelty is not very bright
Not every agrees that such deeds are right.
These humans got into trouble, because not all agree:
That fun with cats goes with humanity.
And yet, I eat animals every day
I put out mouse traps, throw dead mice away.
I guess the difference is that I don't want to cause pain
But some people do, though not clinically insane
Its part of the human condition that they are out there
Know your surroundings, take heed and take care.
There are times when nobody can save
You could be that cat in the microwave.
Our Opossum Has a Strong Propensity for Crime
By Frank Daub
Discovered in a backyard nighttime check –
an opossum wandering behind our garden shed.
Pin-pointed face, squinting eyes.
It did not run -- to my surprise.
Only staring, lighted softly by the porchlight.
Little.
Sleek in a white-gray-tan-straight-fur-slicked-down way.
The streets around are not friendly to its kind.
This unfair truth made up my mind.
I should let the shed-bottom harbor it.
This would require: FEEDING.
I decided the feeding plan -- without data-based reference --
would be workable.
I tried every sort of natural vegetable.
Walnuts added when the berries nurtured
hordes of ants --
Not
the opossum.
The dietary effort proved it.
Our opossum has a strong propensity for crime.
Particular it is to nighttime
sneaking forays - for food of course.
(This assured the legality of it for me.)
Our opossum was not particular to dietary do’s and don’ts;
Being just inclined to FEEDING its necessary wants.
The animal had a penchant – not a preference --
an exceeding zest for anything edible.
Incredible.
The vessel of my breath even the wind cannot shake
I carry it through the silence perfectly made without a mistake
It gives me the inspiration no one will ever understand
to fulfill every dream in my mind and to listen to my command
The mirror of the moon allows me to lift myself whenever I fall
I believe in the light of truth to always answer my call
I weep from my heart before any teardrop could touch the ground
the invisible lamp continues to search for the mystery unfound
No weapon can access what nature have placed in my hand
the seeds of thought I sow in my dream is buried into the sand
To balance the scale of time with the weight of destiny continues to flow
to keep the candle of inspiration alive for the lamp of truth to glow
The architecture of knowledge I build to shape into a frame
have made me what I am and where to imprint my name
Animal Categories
Read wonderful animal poetry on the following sub-topics:
acrostic, cruelty, death, farm, funny, haiku, kids, metaphor, nature, passing away, rights, rhyme, shape,
and more.
Definition | What is Animal in Poetry?
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.
Related Poetry Forms
natural, bodily, wild, brute, beastly, bestial, corporeal, earthly, earthy, feral, fleshy, muscular, physical, sensual, untamed, mammalian, brutish, zoological, pet, beast, creature, stray, being, brute, mutt, bum, vertebrate, invertebrate, varmint, critter, living thing, wild thing,