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Best Animal Poems

Below are the all-time best Animal poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of animal poems written by PoetrySoup members

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New Animal Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Animal poems are below this new poems list.

Animal Spirits Within: by Keeble, Rick
Elegant animal rainbow by Raynes, Lewis
Animal Antics by Kendrick, Sara
Social Animal Not Cultured Horn Limerick by Horn, James
Animal Antics by Watt, John
Animal Antics by Silver, Robin
Animal Antics by Eldridge, Jack
Animal antics by A. Sharma, Dr. Upma
Animal Antics by Roper, Eve
Animal Antics by Hoffman, Terry

View all new Animal Poems

The Best Animal Poems

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The Squirrel

Listen to poem:
~My Nutty Squirrel Poem~

Up in a tree, on a branch
Now you see me, now you don't!

Sneaky and fast, I'm adorable
Now, why would you hunt or shot me for fun?
Do you like, how fast I run?
I'm not just another chipmunk 
Stuffing my face with nuts,
I'm classy and beautiful, 
The  best  part  of   nature.....

Red pointed ears, I hear you drawing near.
Chuckle, chuckle, caffeine free
I saw you looking at my fine coat.
Fluffy and curious, touch me and I'm Calling PETA!
See YA---  Life Is Beautiful!!!
I'm stuffing these nuts back into my mouth 
and Jumping onto another tree :) The End
........
Love The Squirrel from another World.  
Love LINDA


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2016

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Beauty and the Beast

~Chasing Bigfoot~

Across the Bayou Waters
Into vast trails of wilderness
I follow a sound, a sullen scent  
---footprints

He was out there,
hairy large and in charge

Drugs under the beastly moonlight 
Heavy torrents swept me in 
Deep, down and dark
Under a hidden den
Between the moon and stars
I gaze into a world unknown
A comparison of salt water and bonnets
Lord of the forest deep
Entrapped in a romantic secret sonnet

Over the corner in every shadow
Red Auburn hair, above a 12 foot pair
Daring to face the lone gallows
In one peek
I observe it was not made by men
The fear became excitement 
It offered a moment to think 
I don't know if it wants to injure me
It sniffs me repeatedly, 
Smearing my skin with his nose 
This type of behavior, this smell
Began to arouse my rose

Rough nails grip around my neck
Forest flavored lips 
Unravelling a taste unhuman
The touch erupts and fills me with fear
Still, I long to linger near

Sunrise starts with a grin
Revolving around the mood
Upon his long coat of shrooms 
Without fear I stroke his thick fur
Rough and sweet I repeat
Living or dying, I stay
To love the fear-driven inside

Day after day
Deep and gray, life fades
Then becomes elusive
11 years the sun hides
Dark eyes, hold me all night
This wild man, by the bedside
Cries from the woods before sunset
I follow----

Somewhere behind hidden walls
The woods stand tall 
Flowers welt from this burning love
My heart owned by the sasquatch
Though rapid dreams and streams, 
I scream
Of Big Foot and I

By: PD


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2015

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Jesus was Turkish

A strange claim
Of a man of passion
Of kindness
He said
Let the children come to me
For what man would refuse the smile
The innocence of a child
He parted his kindness
His wisdom
His love of all tribes
Animal and man, felt the kindness of his eyes

His tears grew this world
His voice made all of us listen
He made fisherman, philosophers
He made masons run free
He sang to ladies of the night
With the wine from wells of passion
Caliphs and Abu Nuwas soon followed

Love belongs to no one tribe
No sect or religion
It’s the flower that seed's travels the globe
Like feathers floating in the wind

When you see a child with no food
A woman with no smile
A man with no home

You make a balloon or funny face
You grow a rose
You build a hut

Trust in the kindness underneath
It will kiss you on your death bed
You shall rise to the heavens
Knowing

You loved the universe




Notes: This is one poem that for sure can be peeled like an onion. First of all, I am working on a poem based on historical fact, and documents from the Vatican, that will serve no other purpose than to tell an age old story. Yes part of it takes place in current day Turkey.

Second, I have a friend who resides in Turkey, and we met over the internet, and over the years, have become friends. I know him to be kind, to all people and animals. We are simply friends that have shared stories, laughter, and hardships at times. Whether someone  lives next door or half way around the world, true friendship and honor is hard to find. You can not give it or receive it. You can only both earn it over time.

No man is perfect, we are what we are, but when you see a world in turmoil, as we do these days, maybe this small event or moment carries weight. I myself am not so nice. So then I must say this, My friend Volkan is, not to me, but to countless people. A smile and kindness costs nothing, and the world needs more of this richness. 

Everyone these days talks of how technology is ripping apart society and this may well be true, but this is a choice we all make, technology is merely a tool. One can also use it to build bridges and friendships. 

Normally I would be shy to give such praise, however events have taught me that, its better to speak good words than be silent.

Thank you, for helping building a better world!



Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016

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Creature In The Night

Where cold stars exist in the dark,
serene winds whisper to trees
and scarce human ears can listen,
lone songs wail in the distance
in frozen moon's silver spotlight,
a mark left where paws had paused.











Written by: January 16th, 2015


Inspired by creature #3 Coyote

nette onclaud's contest - NIGHT CREATURES


This poem was also inspired by actual events. A few weeks ago, I discovered 
some large animal paw prints that were left in the snow, near my home. I later
found out that the tracks were made by a wolf.



Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2015

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Una and the Lion

This world of trouble soon will pass
For there beyond the crystal glass
A lamb and lion tread the grass
Beside a lass, beside a lass

This cord of present time shall break
And hate and fear shall flee and quake
Oh, may all vice this earth forsake!
And love awake! And love awake!

Oh, see him walk 'neath mighty trees!
The king of beasts; what strength and ease!
Yet now content this lass to please
Her hand to tease, her hand to tease

Behold! A pleasant form and face!
The child of beauty crowned with grace!
Fair Una treads at even pace
A better place, a better place


~ The form is Monotetra~
~Based on the painting 'Una and the Lion' by Briton Riviere. 


Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst | Year Posted 2013

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Spider songs

Blades of grass, wet under foot, insect eyes  
Dusk, offset by the cricket orchestra 
Muted and receding into the trees and bushes,
Tickled by the wind, rattling snake tail wind 
While we may be in the company of wolves,
A long legged friend is late for the party 

Eyes, little iridescent stars 
Attending to each one, and look there, 
There she is, making the most beautiful geometry 
Parallels within the octagons, pulling silks
An arm for every task, little perpetual motion machine

Is that the Queen of the Night under the rusted iron? 
A forlorn lady, black patent leather, kill a man, maybe two 
With her danger red symmetry, oozing with youth 
And a penchant for paralysis, no one can resist her wine

Then there's the hall of cob webs, threadbare handkerchiefs
Left by ladies who exhausted all of their company 
To be a spectacle under the moon, in the wood pile 
Dressed up in the finest furs, all earth tones 
Stepping out to introduce themselves in girlish droves 

Venus of another sort, these little cursed jezebels 
Hovering on the skin of the water, or on the red brick wall 
Must frequent every happy corner, and slip away at a moment's notice
A real lady always knows when to say goodnight
Such graceful exits through cement cracks
Back to the parlor, to glow in the dark 
And they become spiders again 





Copyright © Jeremy Martin | Year Posted 2013

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Rabbits on the Ark

God told old Noah to build an ark,
To make it out of gopher bark.
Noah did as he was asked,
And worked until he completed the task.

Then God told Noah to gather the beasts,
Two of every kind, the hes and the shes,
So that when the earth is dry again,
They can procreate, new life begin.

All the animals were good, except for the rabbits.
Though small and cute, they had some bad habits.
Quiet and stealthy, they would roam around,
Hiding in dark corners where they weren't easily found.

You might be wondering how bunnies could be bad,
But you need to remember the reputation they have.
Hiding in the shadows, what do you think they're doing?
They're not playing hop scotch - they're cuddling and wooing.

Now cuddling and wooing isn't such a bad thing,
But rabbits are known for quickly multiplying.
Though Noah tried to keep the bunnies apart,
He was no match for their affairs of the heart.

So when it came time, the ark to depart,
The animals came out two by two like the start.
Two by two they strolled off the ark,
After being cooped up, getting out was a lark.

But then came the rabbits and to Noah's dismay,
Not two but hundreds were coming his way.
Then the Lord told them all to be fruitful and multiply.
Noah looked at the rabbits and let out a sigh.


6/11/13
Entered in PD's 101 in a row contest #5


Copyright © Kim Merryman | Year Posted 2013

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Chapter and Verse a live poetry recital

Good evening Ladies 
May I say, I am honored and privileged
As this is the first ever time
I have read in front of a woman’s only group
And a fine group of bovine beauties you are

I truly hope you have enjoyed dinner
The poetry portion of your evening is about to begin
First I wish to thank Betsy for inviting me
She mooooed me over from day one
I must also offer my sincere apologies
If I have eaten any of your relatives
A simple but tasty misunderstanding at beast, ops best

This evening’s poetry reading will have background music
Lyrcial Jazz music is like the spice to my gourmet poetry
Richard here is on Sax, and Dave will play the guitar
So feel free to sit or stand, rain or shine
Graze upon this artistic feast of cultural poetry

I shall recite four movements here, thus to allow you
Breaks for your own movements so to speak
I wish you an udderly fantastic evening


This piece is called “Chapter and Verse”

Part 1)

Borrowed words


Overdue loans
On faded words
Tears melting ink
Wisdom's die 
Collection time
Bankrupt soul
With no words to share


Moooooo mooooooo Mooooooo 
Mooo Mooooooo Mooooooo Moooooo
Cow bells jingle
More Moooos moooo moooooo


You gals are sooooo  Mooovarlous

Now for Part 2)


Overdue books

Wine splashes the pages
Of my mind
Melancholy whispers to me
Here, here 
The past sings me a song
Withered books 
Our collective memories
Buried in the pages of history


Moooooo mooooooo Mooooooo 
Mooo Mooooooo Mooooooo Moooooo
Cow bells jingle
More Moooos moooo moooooos

Oh My God really stop it
You Gals are udderly amazing
Thank you so much

I really appreciate your Cowcil


On to Part 3 Ladies

Sad Chapters

I danced 
I drank
Love and wine
Penelope Sosa
Stole heart and mind
Debts paid
Her beauty refined
Lonely betrayal
I dine on sad chapters

Moooooo mooooooo Mooooooo 
Mooo Mooooooo Mooooooo Moooooo
Cow bells jingle
More Moooos moooo moooooos

You gals really are overdoing it
However I do have a part 4, you are such a great audience
For fans like you, I am willing to milk this poem to the end


The last Verse

Mathematical potions
Equations that dream
A soft kiss lade upon my sleeping heart
Is it you? Is it you that lightens my soul?
Spread your wings for me
I shall smell the sweet scent
Of your poetic juices
As we lay entwined
Inside the last verse

Standing Mooooooooovations
Moooooo mooooooo Mooooooo 
Mooo Mooooooo Mooooooo Moooooo
Cow bells jingle
More Moooos moooo moooooos


Well I must thank you dearly
I confess I was somewhat Cowardly to perform
However you gals where just great
I will be signing autographs back at the barn!!!!!!


Note: This poem was sponsored by Dr Doo Little


Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015

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Word Squirrel

Rodents can be loquacious
That includes your average gerbil
They love to prattle, chat and blather
They really are quite verbal

Hamsters are talkative too
Just as garrulous as can be
With running mouth and wheel to match
They are a sight to see

But I am loath to squander words
Sparing usage is my way
I gather them like so many acorns
Against a rainy day

Yes, word collecting is the passion
Of this precocious squirrel
I garner adjectives, verbs and nouns
Be they singular or plural

The park is fecund land
There a plethora may be found
Vociferous, vehement and vex
I lately scooped up off the ground

The verb tree is prolific
Its discovery, quite a boon
The other day it bestowed upon me
Flaunt, foster and festoon

All along the sidewalks
Concrete nouns lie strewn about
How blithely I did snatch up
A lummox, laggard and a lout

To command a better view
I nimbly scampered up a pole
From this lofty perch I spotted
Wheedle, coax and cajole

Away in the distance
I spied a tempting pile
Lying there for the taking were
Enticing, alluring and beguile

What do I with so much verbiage?
You would be fair to ask
Squirreling away so vast a lexicon
Must prove a mammoth task

The answer lies in my arboreal abode
Where these many words I stash
In alphabetical order they are arrayed
From zealous to abash

In a capricious mood one day
I grouped them by part of speech
Such a cacophony arose from clustering
Banter, badger and beseech

No matter how I sort them
The wasting of words I spurn
Reserved for rarest use I keep
Reticent, laconic and taciturn!

_________________________________

by Brian McClain - Feb 17, 2016


Originally posted Feb 17, 2016
Accidentally deleted Feb 22, 2016
Reposted Feb 22, 2016


Copyright © Brian McClain | Year Posted 2016

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I Confess, I Am Guilty

My parents said I could not keep the black, stray cat.
They explained our canary would not survive that.
Parents out, a sitter, and my four-year-old mind
Let the cat in and hoped for the best in due time.

I am ashamed to have plotted murder when four,
Sad an innocent bird died cause I liked cats more.
The whole family loved that sweet cat, “Little Bit”,
Plus, I promise, I have planned no other death hit.



CayCay Jennings

February 24, 2016
Contest:  It’s Time To Fess Up
Sponsor:  Lin Lane
2nd Place


Copyright © CayCay Jennings | Year Posted 2016

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Tiger in a Cage

Tiger in a Cage (a stab at men)

Like a caged tiger.
You do not know what is in my den?
There is no worse feeling than the way I pace back and forth repeatedly.
A headless collar is all you see.
The closer I get, the more you seem to pretend. 
To you these stripes look more like dots.
As you, continue to hold my lines and strands in your hand.
You stroke my stripes as if they were a loft of dental floss.

An ORANGE all squishy and rot.
Rough and tough!
You cannot peel what you cannot feel.
You do not know me at all?
You trust me.
You lace me.
You cannot describe the buds.
You cannot feel my fingertips.
A taste of nothing out of your lips.

Indian BLACK streaks in my skin.
How did you manage to even get in?
We mount this unspeakable stability.
A man-eater swallowing her growl.
This hunger is piercing throughout my veins.
Hiding the powerful black star sapphire in my eyes.
Every move I plan ricochets. 
A tiger, a tiger in her cage.

Only in your world, I am my own prey.
My wildness is rarely found above my skin.
Every day I wear this heavy coat, my stripes continue to sink in.
It is a solitary confinement when you are around.
You cannot see the black diamonds under this unbearable frown.

Dingy claws, tapping……
Natures dew bestows a toneless mixture of orange and black tattoo.
These stripes, belittle my self-esteem.
The moon flashes overlapped our taboo.
Never will you see a tigers gleam.

Spirituality waiting to rise above the trees.
It is my choice, to stand behind these unbreakable twigs.
Fertilizing like pollen under a blanket of bees.
Still the effects of your eclipse, bounce off my wall.
I am telling you!
You don't know me at all?
The roads these loads continue to grow.
Far ahead, I am the gravel under your toes.
Crouching like a Tiger hiding the way a dragon breathes.

You don't know how I feel!
I am a tiger in a cage please set me free!

by;pd

"Breed to Breathe" by Napalam Death 
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pKP9aaFkEEQ 


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2012

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Woodstock

~Woody Wood From the Hood~

Deep, inside yourself, you walk a sour way of life,
Carving my name, on every tree with a hunting knife
You log in, then log out
A Birdman So Fickle, he Stinks of doubt!

Blind today, bald tomorrow, 
Big Bird, will be your only friend
I can't seem to forget the day, you shed your final skin
Revealing a darker snake, than the one in my garden
Leaving the word betrayal, up to the imagination 

Trust not the fool, who thinks his halo is heaven sent
Using a fake ballpoint pen dietary supplement
Thinning out his wings, and losing the symbolic meaning

Aging in a way, that spreads crows feet from top to bottom
Sapsucker revolving yellow as if it was always autumn
Pecking Hard Wood, MR Pecker of all woodpeckers 
Forgetting who's the real Home-wrecker

Your dragging pants are no bother, Mr Woodpecker!
I've gotten used to the tree talking and your creative vision
Let's just say, "Gangster to Gangster, I gave you a mission."
Keep rapping and tapping the same old street sign, 
Woodstock, on demand, crap out the peanut punch
Whatever suits you for breakfast and lunch
Don't forget dinner's also about me

Go ahead!
Peck away with deception, reveal your sullen evil feathers  
A disease urine Birdman, doing it snoopy style
A flightless, lightless liar, nothing about him's worthwhile
Keep manipulating the weak, whatever turns you on
I'm not ready to shoot you down with my shotgun

~SKAT~


Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2014

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Preserver of Freedom

Preserver of Liberty
 
After the ashes are scattered from my urn
If the Lord should give me a chance to return
There is no doubt which animal I’d be
An eagle perched in the nest of an oak tree
 
National emblem of the land of the free
No predator would dare pose a threat to me
My eggs would be safe till the hatchlings were born
And with pride my white, feathered cap would be worn
 
Freely I’d fly over fields of golden grain
Circling o’er waterfalls of snow’s melting rain
Statuesquely I’d pose as my national emblem
And fiercely I’d fight to defend our brethren
 
From my aerial view, I’d always protect
This treasure, our nation, with deepest respect
With wings spread out, I’d keep guard nationwide
God as my mentor, Holy Spirit my guide
 
 
By Carolyn Devonshire
For Kristen’s “If I Was Animal What Would I Be?” contest




Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2011

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Whilst walking through the woods

Whilst walking through the woods one day
A crystal brook there, shone so gay
The sun was shining oh' so bright
As brook reflected all it's light

Buzzing insects all around
Oh' they made a delightful sound
Birds flew upwards to the sky
These parrots made a hue and cry

Carpet of flowers with lovely scent
It seemed this morn way heaven sent
The flowers opened to the sun
This walk for me was so much fun

Sheep bleated from far away
Oh it was such a lovely day


Copyright © Vera Duggan | Year Posted 2014

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March Babies

The newborn wolves, March babies, cannot see. They need their mothers, like all creatures do. In just two weeks, they crawl; then wondrously, they view their world through open eyes of blue. A few days pass; and it’s not too long when they stand and walk; they whimper and they yelp, then learn to fight while playing in their den, but in the meantime, they will still need help. Fed by their pack, the grey wolf pups get strong. With family, they’ll never be alone. The months go by so fast. It won’t be long before the winter when they'll be full grown. When new March babies come, they’ll do their part, for in the pack, the grey wolf shows his heart. Written 3/28/2015 for shadow Hamilton's Canis Lupus the Wolf Contest


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2015

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Fickle-Foolish-Footles - Man's Best Friend

Overweight Terrier:
   Porky
   Yorkie
Un-cool Terrier:
   Dorky
   Yorkie

Spaniel dog breeder:
   Cocker
   Stocker
Parrot who mimics a Spaniel's bark:
   Cocker
   Mocker
Book on how to care for Cockers:
   Spaniel
   Manuel
Originally from England, a well-rounded Spaniel stays in shape by playing:
   Cocker
   Soccer
Then showers and dresses by its:
   Cocker
   Locker

Dachshund headgear:
   Weenie
   Beenie
Grouchy Dachshund:
   Meany
   Weenie
Proportionally, male Dachshunds have:
   Teenie
   Weenies
(But size isn't everything)
Dachshund making critcal life choices:
   Eenie
   Weenie...

Lassie was a level-headed dog and never engaged in:
   Collie
   Folly
Reared in a loving environnment, she was a rather:
   Jolly
   Collie
Bred in the capitol city of NC, making her a:
   Raleigh
   Collie
To commemorate her frequent (and often rowdy) visits to N.O. a streetcar was renamed the:
   Collie
   Trolley

Snoopy immigrated to the States but alas, was found not to be a:
   Legal
   Beagle
Thus he was deported back to England but was promptly knighted by the Queen becoming a:
   Regal
   Beagle
Now a celebrity, he even had an entourage of nubile young female beagles named:
   Snoopy's
   Groupies
Eventually, he met his soul mate, married her in Westminster Abbey and it is rumored that they engaged in numerous and somewhat kinky sessions of:
    Snoopy
    Whoopie




Copyright © Tim Ryerson | Year Posted 2013

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Haunted

A hole in the head shooting pain trembles
nightshades coldly down the spine
a soul lost in the land of the living
carried away in darkness
flying inside dark clouds holding just a dream

Distant thunder roars lightening splitting cracks
sure as the crow flies crawling opens Hell's gates
dark jewels of the night
charred remains churning in a cauldron
boiling goodness tears of thoughts

Piercing screams spawning nightmares
holding a promise once made
walking in a valley amongst the dead
shadows now smile hearing animals scream
as the moon plays silver dancing light

Dreams snatched away from reality
the crow calls echoes in silence
victims of this world howling over and back
tragedy cries in their pain and suffering
eyes seeking light
whispers through the branches
a heather bleat creature of the night calls

Haunted by humans chained to the earth
awaiting shadows and sunsets 
a cursed banshee wails supernatural screams 
from everywhere and nowhere

Mind numbing winds passing through
a white silhouette shredded shroud
around a heart entombed
in agonies' twilight shades clouds darken
storms brewed stirring specters chase the wind

Cold rains become lost tears
the willow weeps in eternal sorrows
a lament for the dead
as the silver crescent moon smiles goodbye

Blends in clear as day after sunrise
forgotten in a valley of unrest
death bell's toll out from the past
onyx feathered crows call painful cries

Forever seeking heaven's gate now sealed
that promised choice was lost ages ago
only burning Hell fires
or cold earthworms await




Written by: Liam McDaid & Kelly Deschler


Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2015

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Animal of the Night

The animal of the night has an evil courage as its defense,
And with simple lies it now catches the filthy beast easily,
And can now stand and bask in God’s purest of sunshine,
Whilst valor and glory speak all power to one’s destiny!

Darkness doth now pervade and drinks slowly from that
“Chalice of the Faithless Heathen” who hides among the
Soulless Ones who are consumed by their hateful actions,
And spit thoughtlessly at your good will and human pride!

Hades’ very own dark demons tilt their evil night shades
While justifying the hurt and depravity of an “Ugly Brute”;
A truly lost soul without any mercy, blind—as “He” throws
Freely a nasty spiteful spirit on your earthly fire of reality!

Hence, Hades’ mark and mask of utter darkness and terror
Descend now into the very conscience of your Spirit World;
Burning hot with the force of “The Furies” seeking revenge:
Tisiphone, Megaera, and Alecto all appear sans Merci now!

As their eternal gorgonesque spirits creep upon you furtively,
Your once handsome visage turns into a sad and horrid portrait
Of an old animal soul in the mirror never to see the Light again,
As clouds darkly shade your horizon and fate in Hades’ name!

In this eternal land of darkness, the dead do not suffer this fate
So easily, and cast not without honor in their chains the notion
That fear itself, vice destiny, cries out now for your forgiveness,
As One-Eyed Beggars seek and see the basic good within you!

Each day now fades into its own doom, into a dark mist of evil,
And hides carefully inside a “Mountain of Consciousness” where
Your ethereal spirit knows who you really are—as black snakes
slither slowly and silently toward your spirit-mirrored reflection!

You—that “Animal of the Night,” wear now your deceptive mask;
The reality of who and what you really are makes my skin crawl!
You can never return from this darkest “Pit of Hell” my old friend,
For thy animal-human spirit is doomed to all this darkness forever!

Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem,
Copyright © All Rights Reserved – November 22, 2015 
(Narrative Quatrain)


Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2015

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New York Street Horse

Listen to poem:

Plunked down in chaos
from a gentler time,
blinkered from the traffic
he pulls the coach along.
Patient, in his harness bond
he tugs at hearts, with pathos-
as to his love of duty we respond. 
Amidst the screech of sirens
and the blasting horns,
he stands and dreams
of meadows in a nosebag.
 
Such rhythmic clicking of
 metal shoes on concrete,
full rolling of the carriage
wheels and he, confined,
down through the centuries
he thought he'd left behind.




Copyright © Suzanne Delaney | Year Posted 2013

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I Saw You Amongst the Wild Horses -part 2-

But you—the wild one
You were compulsive, fiery and inventive
I had my share of the wild and free
But you were molded from them—with insane beauty
Despite our differences we remained together
Perhaps you think I mean to save you—tame you
But I merely long to contain the sun
And hinder the pervasive burns
So that in so doing, I may always keep you warm
For cold wild shall destroy
As warm wild shall invent
Searing wild will one day save the world
And then destroy it all the next

Dear beloved one,
I saw you amongst the wild horses 
I did not dare touch you
Because I was afraid of Change
But Change was a delight—an apple to your eye
And I did not realize that Change was embedded in my very being
So when you shyly approached me,
I knew you were hungry
I fed you ample laughter and music
And soon I gained your highest respect
Along with a thousand other mystical blessings
I will not always remain by your side as if I am among you
But perhaps I shall linger at a distance—level to your luminosity 
As words continue to flow, I shall slowly inch myself forward
To be frank—you are the greatest companion in my world
Hot or cold—seared or chilled
You will always remain among the wild and free
And that race is sadly. . .
Slowly dwindling
Tell me you shall never become me
Never Change

In honor of you,
One day I will reach out my quivering hand
And you will consume the Apple of Friendship
Until then, 
Look beside you
As was inevitable—
I have changed for the better
Because you are—and always will be
My very greatest friend till the end

-this Ode was meant to be altogether; I hope you enjoyed reading, and thank you-


Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013

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a thawing of hearts - for contest

I sat quietly and waited, making the noises he had come to know, calling him in his newly given name.  His face would appear, cautiously calculating my intent, he would approach.  The promise of food and gentle touch too much to deny.  And so we did the “Little Prince’s” taming dance, each aware of the other and the possibility of betrayal.

cold eyes, empty heart frost forming on life’s edges winter’s numbing kiss
Our meetings continued, less cautious greetings, more welcome contact, minimal conversation. His coat was becoming more ragged in spite of attempts to keep it up, his gait slowing as our good-byes became short walks together. He could not leave his place, his home, even though it had left him – alone, to fend for himself.
hoarfrost in retreat sunrise gently awakens friendships warming blood
He withdrew – I would wait, quietly, whisper the name he had come to know, make the sounds that signaled “all clear”. I searched for him, stood silent and listened for his weakening call, shed tears in the cold rain of November. His last call, a feeble attempt at good-bye, led me to him. Alone, cold, hungry, he lay there, rolled his eyes as I cradled his cold and fading spirit. He shivered – and left.
winter’s cold cradle ice encasing a friendship a thawing of hearts
10/20/2015 submitted to – Creative Haibuns – Poetry Contest sponsor – Charlotte Jade Puddifoot


Copyright © John lawless | Year Posted 2015

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What's In The Urn

           What’s In The Urn

Strangers offered me to join them in a drink
I met them on a mountain edge while skiing
They seemed like friendly normal people then
So what could happen in a simple cabin?

Finding that which is not there or vanquished
What is there that cannot be perceived?
Placed upon the mantel piece are ashes in the cabin
Brass vase, a receptacle for lost souls sits in repose

A death vase to glare at over cognac
By the sober flames cast by
A fire place glow observed in action
Liquid spirits pour out their poison

In the cozy living room inside the cabin
Drinks alone cannot remove this feeling of distraction
The urn is piercing through my soul
People belong in cemeteries you know

With all due respect for the dead
Scatter them at sea when they‘re deceased
Not paraded around in gloom to cause unease
Or as a center piece for living rooms 

I’m not relieved to find it is a lizard on the shelf
To be exact, an exotic iguana family friend entombed 
And to assume that fact makes this matter optimal 
I beg to differ on that point and voice my opinion later

There must be a plot of ground outside 
Or toilet somewhere to flush it down
But better left unsaid, as they are bereaved about the death
And I am their invited guest

Iguana tried consuming the family’s cat
Another favorite  pet I guess
It is surmised, that’s how it met its end
Wound up expired inside the urn
                                                                              
The receptacle was there and going nowhere on its own
I swear it follows me from room to room
By embers glow and ash, shadowing my every move
A brass smile casting off the urn, leaving me concerned 

I could not take my leave
The container followed me
So I waited, fixated on the thing
Is it coming back to life to eat more bugs or me?

Finding that which is not there
Is easier in the dark                                                                                     
Rising to the occasion of the day that breaks
I must escape the premises to continue skiing 

Into the frozen world outside I fly
With no discernible signs or paths to lead or learn
I get away, no time to say good-byes or find my way
Never again will I say; what’s in the urn



Copyright © Earl Schumacker | Year Posted 2014

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I SPIED A VALLEY LOW

I spied a valley low Across the road from the cemetery A colobus monkey swinging by The trees of the valley Stood tall and forlorn Observing the crematorium Covered in light gray smoke As morning traffic streamed by Giraffe reached for the tallest bough And I thought I heard the leopards growl And by the road was a troop of baboons And people walked on by And a few yards away Was the army garrison And a regiment trooped on by And a sounder was grazing idly by As people walked on by Yes I spied a valley low Where life carried on slow Across the road from the cemetery Where footsteps were dull and hollow A funeral procession was going on Yes the trees of the vale Were tall and forlorn The sun hung high and lorn As were the clouds of dawn As I drove along that road Away from that valley low


Copyright © Marugu MO | Year Posted 2015

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The Tiny Traveler

Adopted animals love their humans; 
show it in many ways.  
The tiniest pet, 
revels in the harmony of its time, 
with family.

Dinky was a special hamster; 
she lived a year beyond the normal life span.  
I carried her around in my pocket and she loved the ride.  
Her head, peeking out, evoked curious comments 
from all who glimpsed her.

She searched for me, when I was at school; 
her knack for escaping the cage, 
kept me searching for her in the afternoons.  
I often found her, in my chest of drawers.

Of course, I found it odd, 
but hamsters are four-legged, Houdini’s…
Dinky was the best.

One cold winter night, as I lay in slumber, 
That tiny traveler made her way from,
one end of the house, to my bedroom.
I lay there, on that frosty eve,
reaming that I was outside in the rain; 
the chilling raindrops, dancing upon my arm.

In a moment of lucidity, 
Reality hit; those raindrops were tiny paws!  
I reached, grasped and in the shimmering moonlit rays, 
I stared into the eyes of my new bed buddy.  
A twitchy nose said it all…
”I found you!”
I moved her cage close by my bedside;
future escapes faded into history.


Copyright © M. L. Kiser | Year Posted 2015

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The Duck That Lost His Quack

The Duck That Lost His Quack


A Duck woke up late one day last week,
And all he could do was to squeak.
He looked everywhere and listened to different things, 
Even heard sounds all around, from pings to zings.

For example, he tried many gates, stairs, and barn doors,
Then went and stepped on cracks in nearby creaky floors.
He visited several witches, doctors and some were both,
They prescribed everything from lemons to ginger troth.

In his travels, he came across a quaint woodshop, 
Being so tired, he sat down with a solid plop.
A carpenter saw that the Duck was so very sad, 
From behind the counter, he came to help the lad.

After hearing of the tale of a missing sound,
The carpenter leapt up with a double bound.
He said, “From within is where it comes, 
Not outside, as most would sum.”

“I have made many instruments for music, 
And what you need is something acoustic.”
He brought out a short board with a nail, 
Then attached several metal strings to a pail.

The carpenter said, “Play away and listen to the sounds in your head.”
The Duck strummed everything from Enya to the Grateful Dead.
After a fashion, the Duck was soon lost in the tunes,
And started to dance and sing like a midnight Lune.

Who knew that this Duck had a knack,
And in the middle of it all started to quack.
So you see, it’s not external to what you seek,
In many cases, its internal and who you meet.



Written by Michael Eastman, 8-25-2015,

This, after listening to Bubbles the Mouse speak,
And hearing a long story composed of squeaks.


Copyright © Michael Eastman | Year Posted 2015