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Best Carrot Poems

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

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New Carrot Poems

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

Carrot hair by Ward, Julia
Coffee and carrot cake by Downer, Angela
Carrot Cake by Flannery, Vincent
Hello There Carrot Top by Pettit, Robert
A Carrot Fancily dressed as a Parrot by Hull, John-Ovan.P.
A Carrot Named Earl by Washam, Stephen
My Carrot by Leon, Lee
Going Behind A Carrot by RAVICHANDRAN, SAKTHEE
Tasty Carrot Juice (Epulaeryu) by Spence Sr, Joseph
MY DAUGHTER'S CARROT. by Stephen, Alayande

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The Best Carrot Poems

Details | Carrot Poem | |

A Concrete Snowman

                                                    THE BLACK
                                                    SATIN HAT
                                                    SAT TIGHT
                                        ON THE YOUNG MANS BALD
                                                    HEAD. HIS 
                                                EYES BLACK AS 
                                            NIGHT STARED INTO
                                              NOTHINGNESS. IN 
                                                 FRONT OF HIM
                                                      WERE 3
                                              PATHS WHERE THE
                                           CHILDREN HAD ROLLED 
                                         PATCHES OF GREEN GRASS 
                                          STUCK THROUGH PACKED
                                                FREEZING SNOW.
                                        IN THE MIDDLE OF HIS FACE
                                A CROOKED CARROT POINTED TOWARD 
                            THE HOUSE WHERE CHILDREN SAT LOOKING
                             OUT THEIR WINDOW AT THEIR NEW FOUND
                              FRIEND. HIS BUTTON MOUTH SHAPED FOR
                                HIM TO LOOK HAPPY SEEMED TO SMILE 
                                  AT THEM AS THEY STARTED TO BLOW
                                       KISSES AT THEIR WONDERFUL 
                                                  NEW SNOWMAN.

Written by Brenda Meier-Hans 

Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans | Year Posted 2014

More great poems below...

Details | Carrot Poem | |


Sparkling snowflakes were falling around Making a thick blanket on the ground The lights on the Christmas trees Twinkling brightly in the breeze Carol singers sang a Christmas song People around joined in the throng Their lanterns casting a golden glow Their shadows dancing in the snow Two excited children were ready for bed Having left food for the reindeer's and Santa to be fed They’d left their stocking by the tree Their eager eyes sparkled with glee Hoping the stockings would be filled with gifts and toys They put in their letter they’d been good girls and boys Tommy had asked Santa for a shiny new bike The red one in the shop was the one he would like Ella asked for a new doll and a pram that was white The thought of it made her eyes shine with delight They sleepily climbed the stairs to their room Through the curtains they saw the light of the moon Soon they both were fast asleep They slept so soundly there was not a peep In the morning they bounced out of bed Wondering if Santa and the reindeer's had been fed Bits of straw and carrot peel lay on the hall floor Their mouths dropped open in wonder and awe The living room door was slightly ajar Santa has visited on his trip from afar Their stockings bulged with gifts and toys Santa had kept his promise to these good girls and boys 11~23~14

Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2014

Details | Carrot Poem | |

The Tale of Billy Bob Bunny

When Billy Bob Bunny turned one, his mama said, “Listen up, son. I’m sure you could get away from a net, but beware the guy bearing a gun! If a gun-toting farmer you see, you must hip hop away instantly. If he has good aim, you might end up lame or worse yet, rabbit stew you will be. So do please, Billy Bob, take good care that you don’t end up being the hare that loses his life so Farmer Jack’s wife has a soft rabbit stole she can wear!” But it wasn’t Billy Bob’s habit to listen to his Mama Rabbit. Without using good sense, he hopped over the fence, saw a carrot and started to grab it. Farmer Jack spied that rascal. Oh, my! From a gun, bullets started to fly. When a shot nicked his ear, Billy fell down from fear. Then he heard a small sound like a cry. “Please don’t shoot at the bunny again,” cried the farmer’s sweet daughter, and then Billy could feel her stroking his soft fur, and at night he was placed in a pen. Mama came to the pen and she said, “You are trapped. I’m just glad you’re not dead.” Though no freedom he had, Billy Bob was not sad. “I’m a loved pet,” he said, “and well fed!” The moral of this story is: You can tolerate any condition as long as you are loved and well fed!

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2012

Details | Carrot Poem | |

Everything Froze

                   Everything Froze

a giant crystal wind chime spread its tone
teeth of icicles consumed a home
misted rain encased fence posts and rail
power lines succumb to winter’s weight and fail

vehicles in free style pirouettes
slide beneath the curtain call of white
taunted by the feigned applause of wind
stinging critic of a dance that will not end

children do the snow day dance of glee
parents know how long this day will be
until the child that lives within them all
makes and throws the season’s first snowball

streets await the toothbrush of the plow
snow men don old hats and carrot nose
angels in the snow cold trumpets blow
to celebrate the day everything froze

John G. Lawless

Copyright © John lawless | Year Posted 2014

Details | Carrot Poem | |

So You Want To Know Me?

So sensationally super; Sagittarius son of John Spence
Pleasantly personable, and matriarch Maud Spence’s son
Enabling, exquisite, eloquent, evolving and enterprising
Naturally nice, no nonsense, and a nutritionist nobleman
Carrot consumer, constant comrade and cold-war veteran
Equitably enlightened, and just an elegant eggnog taster

Jumping Jupiter, a jubilant sundae lover, and just a jewel
Oppresso de liber, optimistically captivating; oratorical
Saintly passionate, succulent salmon sampler; sweetheart!
Exquisitely enchanting, enchantingly amatorious; éclat!
Playful, painstakingly passionate, pajama wearer, patient 
Handsomely helpful handyman, harmonizer of happiness

Sweet as syrup, shining armor off the shelf; savoir-faire!
Red-blooded poetry connoisseur and radioactively lovable!


Won Seventh Place Position
"Tell Me About You Contest"
June 16, 2010
Sponsored by Amy Green


Copyright © Joseph Spence Sr | Year Posted 2010

Details | Carrot Poem | |


Cauliflower clouds drift past broccoli trees,
where bright carrot paths lead to vegetable seas.

Tall corn sentries stand straight in a row,
while wild little radishes have no where to go.

Straight stalks of celery spar with asparagus heads,
with an audience of onions and green lettuce beds.

Big juicy tomatoes go look for a thrill,
they stomp on the squash but fall flat on some dill.

Fresh cut potatoes walk boldly around,
quiet cucumbers make barely a sound.

All of them gather; sliced, cut, skinned and pearled,
as I survey my great edible world. 

Copyright © Laura Leiser | Year Posted 2014

Details | Carrot Poem | |

The Hamburger

For thirty years I’ve been a truckie who has driven far and wide,
Carting goods through day and night all across the countryside…
But hours spent upon the road, do not permit a set routine,
When it comes to dining regular, on healthy style cuisine.	

If there’s time I’ll organize an esky, with ice and cans of coke,
Plus a dozen rounds of sandwiches…‘cause this won’t send me broke,	
Not like the tucker of roadhouses who all serve a similar trait,
With a big bill like a pelican’s and grease to decorate your plate.

But a truckies life is not habitual; the phone’s his driving sign,
If someone’s sick, or broken down, and the company’s on deadline,
There is no time of thoughts ahead; he must consider first the load,
And it’s on these hauls a truckie must buy meals along the road.	

I’d been driving fairly flat out now, for I’d say six weeks or more,
Carting produce down to Adelaide for a distribution store,
Some mornings I would leave at two, and backup a couple of trips,
And live upon that greasy take-away including fish and chips.

But then driving home one evening, I could feel that hunger pain,
Though didn’t feel that I could really cope with roadhouse food again,
For I needed something different, and then this jogged my memory,
There’s a fast food café up ahead that really does cook differently.

I stopped close to the café near the South Australian border,
And walked up to the counter where it says to place your order.
The cook who had his back to me, was making salad rolls to sell,
While dropping chips into the cooker, as he battered fish as well.

And the young girl, who is serving, asked me what I’d like to buy,
But before I gave my answer, one more feature caught my eye,
The cook had gone out to his cool room, and rushed back with a sack,
Then started slicing spuds and onions, while his chips are burning black.

So now by knowing that the backyard chef was well within ear shot,
I nodded, “All right love, well what about, a hamburger with the lot,”
As she was writing down my order, I had some further more to say…
I asked if I could have my burger cooked, in my own special way.

I requested that the bun I get, be very hard and three days old,
The bacon mostly crispy fat, fried onions fatty, burnt and cold,
I want the lettuce limp and bitter, and cucumber piled five high,
A slice of cheese like cardboard. Shredded carrot, brown and dry.

I want my slices of tomato, to be slushy more like juice,
With the egg yolk set like concrete, plus salt and pepper overuse,
I want the meat as black as charcoal, and cooked to a rigid phase,
Then asked her if it’s possible, to drown the lot in mayonnaise.

The cook who had been listening, looked away from boiling fat,
And rudely said, “Fair go mate… I can’t cook, a hamburger like that!”
I raised my eyebrows just a mite and then with tongue in cheek,
I said to him “Why can’t you pal? …You bloody could last week.”

Copyright © Lindsay Laurie | Year Posted 2015

Details | Carrot Poem | |

Whatever, Whatever, Whatever

Whatever turns your crank Whatever tickles your pickle Whatever dunks your donut Whatever waxes your dolphin Whatever buffs your Buddha Whatever pops your cork Whatever pets your monkey Whatever frosts your cookies Whatever spills your pills Whatever trips your trigger Whatever humps your camel Whatever melts your chocolate Whatever peels your onion Whatever chafes your carrot Whatever flops your mop Whatever rocks your socks Whatever teeters your totter Whatever milks your goat Whatever pings your pong Whatever peels your banana Whatever blows your nozzle Whatever tips your canoe Whatever flicks your switch Whatever zips your zipper Whatever blows your stack Whatever... whatever... whatever! © Jack Ellison 2014

Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2014

Details | Carrot Poem | |

Onion of Passion - A Blitz Poem for Poetry Soup

Onion of Passion (A Blitz Poem for Poetry Soup)

Start with an idea
Start with an onion

Onion on a cutting board
Onion from the crisper drawer

Drawer of firm vegetables
Drawer of future soup

Soup to feed the poet’s soul
Soup to cure the common cold

Cold days feeling uninspired
Cold nights feeling over tired

Tired of the same same same
Tired of this empty feeling

Feeling compulsive
Feeling hungry

Hungry for a poem to come
Hungry for some hearty soup

Soup flavored with Whitman’s marrow
Soup that starts with his sort of rawness

Rawness of starchy emotion
Rawness of aromatic images

Images of stiff green celery stalks
Images of bright chunked carrot snips

Snips sautéing in olive oil (dash of salt!)
Snips of memory softening

Softening and blending into metaphors
Softening with those onions now translucent

Translucent as distant dreams
Translucent as childhood kisses

Kisses snuck behind the bushes or
Kisses from great grandma

Grandma gave this life recipe
Grandma said to let things simmer

Simmer with love like chicken stock
Simmer then add the bag of herbs

Herbs are like adjectives
Herbs like just the right verbs

Verbs of action rather than being
Verbs like heat and sear and cook and flavor

Flavor the soup
Flavor for sharing

Sharing ourselves
Sharing is why

Why we cook these chunky poems
Why we cook anything

Anything at all
Anything  with passion

Passion and heart
Passion pulsing


Copyright © Robert Keim | Year Posted 2014

Details | Carrot Poem | |

Old Bill

In Memory of Jimmy Dale Still, Barrel horse rider, KIA,  Song Be, Viet Nam, 1/1/70

Old Bill,
swaybacked, sand burrs in his mane.
He stands no longer hopefull by the fence up near the house,
but follows the shade around the shed,
switching flys.

Nearby the dented barrels
rust rank and file akimbo,
no longer equadistant prey 
of steed and gladiator.

Hay in a self feeder.
The last time Jimmy came to break a bale,
carrot in his pocket, bridle in hand,
they were both young,
     bullet proof.

Bill's walked a trail, deep, 
along the fence to the old arena.
Quiet now; full of weeds.
A place for breaking horses.

Copyright © Wayne Sapp | Year Posted 2010

Details | Carrot Poem | |

Oinker at the Dessert Bar

Oh, give me cake with double chocolate
And strawberry with sweetened cream whipped stiff.
And if you have a cake named butter nut,
I’ll have that too. For just a little whiff
of carrot cake with pineapple thrown in,
I’ll go bananas!  Come to think of it,
I might as well go all out in my sin
and also order a banana split!
Each scoop of ice cream different I will take -
one scoop of toffee flavor, one of mint,
and walnut too with slices of my cake!
Let cherries, butterscotch, and caramel drop
onto it all until I say to stop!

written Oct. 25, 2015
For the All This Melts in Your Mouth Poetry Contest of Olive Eloisa Guillermo

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2015

Details | Carrot Poem | |

Everywhere I think of you

I look to the skies and I see you,
Your face smiling in the midday sun
The rainbow on a damp day
Reminds me of us having fun
Brings to mind the rides at a fairground
The stalls and the coconut shie
The ghost train, where we would steal a kiss
The hit the hammer stall,
which I knew you would try
The bell rings you've done it
Hit the Highest score
Chest thrust out in achievement
Brings a thought to keep for sure

Rain brings another story I think of us
Huddled up under a brolly to keep dry
The puddles we jumped together
Rain on our faces as though we had cried
Holding hands we didn't notice how wet we were
Sneezing and coughs starting the next day
Is this the price we have to pay
For memories that I hold dear.

Snow wow now these are mega thoughts
Snow ball fights  are so much fun
Rolling you over in a snow drift
Putting snow down your neck and run
Then there is the snowman be built together
Carrot for a nose and stones for eyes
Scarf round his beck completes the picture
Tears when the sun shines, it slowly melts 
bringing about the snowman's demise.

Autumn with its cold nights
A log fire has been lit
Romantic music playing
On the floor leaning against you
Is where I sit.
Now I sit alone looking into the fire so bright
Imagining I can see you smiling
Saying don't worry, all will be alright.

I think of you, I always think if you

Copyright © SEREN ROBERTS | Year Posted 2015

Details | Carrot Poem | |

A Collage For Dale

Here you are, only twelve, at our kitchen table.
Such a carrot top you were! Strangers used to think
you were our red-head mother’s natural son.

And here’s that photo you took of me at college.
Though you’re not in it, how could I ever forget
it was you in front of me that snapped that shot?
For I’m laughing and so glad you came to see me!

In this one, all ten of us are in the back yard
dressed in our Sunday best - our first big reunion!
I’m nearly 30;  just look at my silly perm!
Folks still mistake me for Dori in this picture!
Look how Mom and Thea - for once - are smiling!
You’re standing behind me, in a lovely grey suit,
only 32 and almost out of law school!

Here from more recent pictures, this shows a rare time 
we  were joined, but sadly,  for Dad‘s funeral.
You‘re not in this one, Dale . . . nor in any others.
That picture in our back yard was to be the last.
My dear stepbrother, the best man I ever knew -
Taken from us so young. . .  you remain beloved.

Written 10/9/13

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2013

Details | Carrot Poem | |


Andrea, I am a purblind parrot
I have to borrow your carrot
(Rajat Kanti Chakrabarty)
I’m Andrea, a visitor to earth,
And I'm a Virgo; astrologically,
Stability has ruled me since my birth.
A gentle, mellow earth girl here you see.
(Andrea Dietrich)

...and heart she opened wide
The placid hue her eyes were born
A flirty blue, her eyes 
Romantic eyes, with whisper of soft lavender for one
The breeze blew in  
She clung to life and pondered soberly
Beyond what they had endeavored yet to do.

Her vision was an eagle's
She could see the roads along the shore 
Someone motionless 
She felt no wrath, but peace engulfed her 
She embraced her soul's release.

New snow, beneath the moon and stars, falls with grace
My sweet  goddess Andrea
With divine thunder
Rules the poetic world, the cerulean space

WSponsor	Judy Konos
rite a Poem - Poetry Contest

Copyright © RAJAT KANTI CHAKRABARTY | Year Posted 2015

Details | Carrot Poem | |


Snow floats down silently covering earth in a white blanket. Children whoop with delight dashing to make a snowman, with a carrot nose and coal eyes. Suddenly snowflakes swirl so thickly they give him a scarf to keep out the cold! Their snowman stands guard in the white garden Until the sun appears and warms earth. Slowly, so slowly the snow melts - poor snowman, his ‘eyes’ fall out and his nose is dislodged. The children are sad, they wave goodbye to their old melting friend Double Etheree – syllable count 110 Contest: Snow Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton 11~15~15

Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015

Details | Carrot Poem | |

A soup for all seasons

Mushroom soup for breakfast,
Carrot soup for lunch,
Noodle soup for dinner,
Onion soup for brunch!

Chow mein soup the next day,
Broccoli soup – Oh Boy,
Barley soup – I’m feeling sick – 
But Poetrysoup for joy!

Copyright © Sneha RV The literature lover | Year Posted 2015

Details | Carrot Poem | |

God's Sculpture

Winter arrives and God's sculpture is seen everywhere,
Snow as white as cotton, on the rooftops of the houses.

Trees brushed with snow along their delicate branches,
Spruce and pine trees and boughs, God's Christmas Card.

Snowman white and round with eyes and mouth made of coal,
And a carrot nose, topped with a black hat and winter scarf.

The sounds of the sculpture are silent and reverent,
Only the sounds of the wind can be heard.

Parents and children creating these snow scenes,
Sounds of laughter, enjoying God's sculptures.

Mountains of snow, tall and small,
With smooth and rugged angles.

God's winter sculpture, his portrait of excellence,
To be appreciated by humanity.

Winter weather is a friend and not a foe,
And whereever you go God's beauty reigns.

Author: Gwen Meyer-Erlach Schutz

Copyright © Gwen von Erlach Schutz | Year Posted 2011

Details | Carrot Poem | |

Horace's Turtle Soup

Horace the tortoise went out to dine
He ordered his food, and the waiter poured wine

They bought in the first course, a huge bowl of soup
In the hot broth was a rabbit, swimming in loops!!

"Oh waiter! Come quickly!"..."There's a hare in my soup!!"
And soon other patrons, gathered 'round in a group

Their eyes were astonished, as that hare took a swim
Splashing the soup, and wearing a grin

"This is disgusting"!! "Oh, what a disgrace!!"
"It's that same rascal rabbit...who lost yesterday's race!!"

"He's that same trouble he's eating my food!"
"He's come for revenge, that rascal's no good!!"

"Call the authorities!! Someone, please call the cops!"
As that rascal munched a carrot....then, quickly he hopped

Right out of the soup bowl, and over the table, down to the floor
Hopped through the restaurant, and right out the door

Hippity hop, hippity hop....nibbling a lot, couldn't be stopped! 
Grinning a lot, and spouting "What's happening, Doc?" 

Hippity Hop, Hippity Hop...all the patrons were shocked
He hopped down the sidewalk! Leaving poor Horace distraught!!!

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2010

Details | Carrot Poem | |



I  shudder to think about the way 
Some  vegetables are  abused every day -
With physical  and psychological  slights
In gross violation of their vegetable rights.

Handicapped vegetables  have no chance to fight back
Like eyeless potatoes  -  poor blind   mites,
And baby carrots ,  aaw!   Or peas-in-a-pod, 
Eaten before they’re even born and take a breath.
Imagine those frantic runnerbeans 
Desperately trying  to escape. 

No surprise that  peas are strained.
My over-tired mum used to say, “Oh, I’m shredded.”
So I understand how tired  shredded-cabbage must feel. 

What about the potatoes who diced with death and lost? 
Jerusalem  Artichokes   -  “chokes” is horrible!
Why not   “Jerusalem Passes Aways” ?
And  ”Squash” !  -  Please speak more politely: 
What a way to go  -  we should say   “Press Lightly”.    
No wonder some clean-living  veg are angry :
Parsnip  -  an  angry snip from  parson or clergy; 
Swede  resembling  a tall blond person, Stockholm based; 
With  horrid ethnic  humour ( bad taste) 
Like   sauerkraut (also bad taste)
(So-called humour about a surly  German).
Look at insults basd on vegetables for a human  -
“The IQ of a cabbage.”   What ethnicity insults !
I’m sorry for tomatoes - all this veg talk results
In them being called a  vegetable dish
It’s like calling Scots people English.
Sheer vegetable racism is the worst.  Mixed potato and carrot salad?  
Not in apartheid South Africa – their salad had to be  pallid.

Oh yes some veg are spoiled like children :
Coddled  cauliflower warmed in milk ; then	
Brazed  egg-plants (please call snobby ones aubergines)
Suntanned slowly at their leisure;
And butter (not margarine) beans  cooked with pleasure.

It’s too horrible entirely, the abuse is complete
I’ll stop being vegetarian, and start eating meat.

Copyright © Sidney Beck | Year Posted 2010

Details | Carrot Poem | |

Paradise Lost

The mighty line their pockets, 
And the workers pay the price.
Racing along in the jaws of the rat, 
As we fight for moral life.

Wrongs no longer righted,
Paying through the nose.
Suffering for a wealth of greed, 
As apprehension grows.

Domino’s standing in a row,
Just waiting for that push.
Not knowing when it’s coming, 
Left dangling on a hook.

Heads just above the water, 
Braced for more to come.
Working harder paying more, 
Subsidising on and on.

Swallowing the lies no longer, 
We're seeing what is true.
The freedom of choice is dwindling, 
There’s nothing we can do.

The safety net has long since gone, 
Leaving broken and shattered trust.
A nation with fading identity, 
Slowly grinding into dust.

What once made us who we are, 
Disappears each passing day.
As rules and regulations change, 
Human rights are stripped away. 

Feared to voice opinions, 
Lest we’re branded for our views.
Seemingly cornered, no way out, 
Hoping we make it through.

The worst around the corner, 
And so much more to come.
Take it on the chin, stiff upper lip, 
Left to bravely soldier on?

The mighty fall eventually,
A cycle that time has repeated.
The price is high for working man, 
As resources are depleted.

A lump in the throat of the future, 
And what awaits us there.
For those we chose to lead us, 
Line their pockets, is that fair?

Too blind to see, with carrot dangling, 
And now we pay the price.
In a crazy suffocating mess , 
Just another day in paradise.


Copyright © Lindsay Kelly | Year Posted 2010

Details | Carrot Poem | |


There’s magic on the tungsten sea
That brings forth spittle in waves
Like giant sheets of paper uncurling
On a table.
There’s magic in the carrot sunlight
That makes pale skin warm and silky
Like a peach that softly meet’s the
Lips of a beauty.

Impossible is commonplace when mind
And world collide and magic conjures
Idle musings .

There’s magic in the breeze that carries
Distant garbled voices muffled by the 
Whooshing waves I hear in the giant
Sea shell. 

Copyright © David Byrne | Year Posted 2010

Details | Carrot Poem | |

A Snowman For You Pt 2

Continued from Pt 1

       In the living room I could hear my parrot.  I reached in the refrigerator to grab a 
carrot.  In the living room I found momma's sewing kit.  I grabbed lots of buttons for Mr. 
Snowmans outfit.
       Back outside I looked at your snowman.  "Something is missing for you."  I made a face 
and I knew.  Back inside I grabbed my Yankee's hat - it will have to do.  I walked over to 
grandpa's chair,  "A pipe for him too!"
       I returned to Mr. Snowman.  He was beginning to look cool as a fan.  My Yankee's hat 
on his head would be his only clothes.  A carrot for his nose.  It would be uncivilized if I did 
not have two buttons for his eyes.  Too bad I did not have a wig for some kind of hairstyle.  
So I added several buttons to make him smile.  He was beginning to look his best.  I placed 
the remaining buttons down his chest.  He was the perfect snowman prototype.  I finally 
added his pipe!
       I snapped lots of pictures playing in the snow;  So you would know how much fun it is 
from my personal view.  As if on cue, I pressed send.  Hoping these pic's would convince you 
to visit me for a weekend.
       You receive text messages from Jimmy Matthew, and you see several cute pic's of me 
in snowshoes.  You notice my lips are cold and blue.  Finally you see several pic's of a 
snowman for you!!!
Note: Here's Pt 2 of your snowman poem Charma:)

Copyright © Jimmy Anderson | Year Posted 2009

Details | Carrot Poem | |

The Old Man and the Mule

The old black man came riding up
On a wagon pulled by a mule
In the wagon he had a plough
And some other old rusty tools
As best I recall it was late in the fall
Of nineteen sixty two
He said hello and told my dad 
He was looking for something to do
And for a fee would unhitch Ol' B
They'd plow up the garden out back
The old man smiled as they dickered awhile
Then began to unpack
Ol' B wore blinders as he walked behind her
It only took them a bit
With all of the kids from the neighborhood
The pair had made quite a hit
Put the cash in his pocket gave her a carrot
Hooked up and went on their way
As the old man whistled to the clippity-clop
The old mule loudly brayed

  an original poem by the "poemdog" Daniel Turner

Copyright © Daniel Turner | Year Posted 2016

Details | Carrot Poem | |

SLY FOX-- Dedication SillyBilly theKidster ,1,

((( TO MY nemesis and pest Silly Billy theKidster
~~~~ both # 1 are for fun ~~~~
***                    CHEERS                  ***

____the Fox and the Kidster____ (slam)&(bam) 

I wrote about my inner animal on a blog.
Like a snake Silly Billy began barking like a dog.
I followed him all the way down the river bank.
Than I smothered him with the water he drank.
I put my foot on his head and enjoyed drowning him in the lake.
It was funny to see how much the kidster a$$ could take.
I than released him and I said "silly hound your no match for this fox!"
Now move along before they finds your carcass and stuff you in a box.
Don't try to KIDster your way into my ear.
I'm tired of seeing how you wet your pants when I am near.
He yips he yaps like a dirty  PARROT,
I made him cry when I called him a cracker and ate his carrot.
Silly Kidster how dare you strike me with lies.
Preying on the poetry, with your horny eyes.
Sadly this hound has no bite and no bark.
As for me I'm just a sly fox playing in this ball park.
So little William H. Poe" 
You will never know!
The donkeys rear end will be your only show.
So, don't go stealing my lines from our first low blow.
I give you an A+ today for calling me a Royal pain in the ass.
Next time you want to play give your mini slam some better class.
Lesson learned from my poetry (Fox and Kidster) tale.
I will always be a silly sly fox with a silver bushy tail.

____Sly Fox____ (couplets)

This is for Nikko's 'inner animal' blog.
Perhaps I should tell her my inner animal is a dog.

Nope! That can't be, I'm no where near obedient!
My inner lioness comes with the perfect ingredient.

When it comes to my own, I will always protect my cubs.
When it comes to a male lion, he can get his own grub.

Let me see I love the colors of the peacock.
If my inner animal was a rabbit, would you be in shock?

How about a little yellow ducky in a tub?
Oh no!  It's the sly fox holding my 'ace of club'.

___Coyote -wolf -fox___  (haiku)

~~coyote ugly~~
coyote is cold
what happen to pretty fur
my coat keeps me warm
~~cried wolf~~
blood all over wool
not a single wolf around 
boy yelled out big foot
fox in rabbits hole
hunter lost with out hound dog
attack of rabies


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2011

Details | Carrot Poem | |


He looked out at the snow and ice,
As a cold wind whistled winter
Through the door, bringing hope
Of making a real-life snowman,
A special friend for a lonely boy,
At least in his world it was so.

He ran out of his room and leapt so
High, sliding down the banister as if on ice.
Then, putting on his boots and scarf, the boy
Flew out of the door into the depths of winter,
Laughing, scooping, sculpting his snowman,
His pal, his accomplice, his hope.

He rolled about without a hope
Of caring for the cold, and so,
Wrapping his scarf around his snowman,
He skidded about on sparkling ice
Losing his boots to the big mad winter…
And there was no happier boy.

A solitary but cheerful boy,
No others there to spoil the hope
Of finding secret delights in winter
That only he believed in so,
Secrets long buried in solid ice,
Yet found inside a snowman.

He danced and chatted to his snowman
And he in turn smiled down at the boy,
Complete with carrot nose and eyes of ice
It filled his heart with warmth and hope,
Showed him the meaning of life so
Full of love, in coldest cruellest winter.

Back inside he looks on winter
Watching his own precious snowman,
And though the fire roars and sweets so
Tempting fill the senses of the boy,
Nothing gives him more joy-filled hope
Than gazing on two lumps of ice.

The darkest winter, that lies inside a boy,
Is brightened by a snowman, a light of hope
That friendship gives so, through frozen ice.

Copyright © Charlotte Kingsfield-Blake | Year Posted 2014