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Quatrain Animal Poems | Quatrain Poems About Animal

These Quatrain Animal poems are examples of Quatrain poems about Animal. These are the best examples of Quatrain Animal poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Quatrain |

Cry For Wind

Fly so fast, cry for wind
Carry me between your wings
Me, me, tiny, olive skinned
Blood of beggars, blood of kings

Lost forever, never found
Roar your cry across the land
Where the road once walked and wound
Stranded in mountains of sand

Clamp your claws around my waist
‘till my harness groans and falls
You will hold my torso raised
You, impenetrable wall

No giant strong enough to win
Or to grab us from the sky
No demon vile, no sinner's skin
No Cyclops to burn us with his eye

Fly my Harpy, take our dreams 
Kill the bad, the hurt, the sad
Cherish fragile shining beams 
Screech seductively and glad

Fly so fast, cry for wind
Carry me, my love, your wings
Me, me, tiny, olive skinned
You and me are blood of kings

***

March 23, 2017 
Copyright © Darren White

Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2017



Details | Quatrain |

To An Injured Fox Cub - with thanks to Michael Coy

Today I found you cornered, drenched in cold,
your fur coat nothing but a newborn's down,
a tiny ball unfolding while I hold
you shivering. Your lacerations frown

and at a distance, I can see the why
of your abandonment, the birds of prey.
I’ve saved you, but you’re causing me to cry:
serrated weapons, Nature’s passion-play,

as blood-attracted sharks, still circling, wait:
I sense the breath-starved fright that made you flee,
those teeth, those claws, you were their blameless bait.
You can’t yet comprehend that you are free.

I see the wounds, some healed, some raw and new,
they're deep, beyond the matted fur and skin.
Four little paws, so tender, sprawled askew,
I seem to feel that you and I are kin.

You mark each move. Mistrustful eyes, so green,
incapable of rest, stir to suggest
you'll try to bite if I will try to clean
the bloodclots, so I hug you to my chest.

You flinch to feel my cuddle. Have I planned
some fiendish way to torture you anew?
The tiny space your wretched life has spanned
has taught you only suffering is your due.

Careful now, I’ll wrap you in a cloth,
And whisper words you cannot comprehend.
Oh tiny one, you're no more than a moth!
It’s alright now. You’ve come across a friend.

Your warmth is blossoming against my breast.
I want to teach you gentleness and calm.
There’s nothing here to threaten you: so rest,
You’re safe now from anxiety and harm.

I'll guard you through the night until you sleep,
until the chesty wheezing eases up.
This is protectiveness, it's seated deep:
I’ll always help a vulnerable pup.

Your heart is racing hard against my hand,
awaiting pain, as wizened captives do.
Believe me, Little One, I understand.
For I have been a broken prisoner, too.

***

May 30, 2017 
Copyright © Darren White

Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2017

Details | Quatrain |

Animal of the Night

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 © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2015

Details | Quatrain |

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

Details | Quatrain |

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

Details | Quatrain |

It Would be a Wondrous Thing

It would be a wondrous thing
If I chanced to see
Unicorns of ocean deep
Swimming nearby me.

Each one with a  spiraled tusk
Jutting from its jaw,
Swimming round about me; oh,
I would be in awe!

Clicking, squealing, whistling,
Swimming in their pod.
If I tried to join their group,
Would that seem too odd?

I could try to click at them
With my little tongue.
If I whistled, would they think
Songs were being sung?

Swimming with some narwhals though -
It will never be.
For I’d freeze so deep beneath
That cold Arctic Sea!


Written 10/9/15  in the 7/5 Trochee form for the Narwhal Contest of Skat

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2015

Details | Quatrain |

The Wise Old Owl

The wise old owl has come today
To train a  young one in the way
Of all the things that it should know
So he can hoot and wisely grow

He'll show this one just what to do
So on it's own it'll fly so true
It's prey will never have a chance 
When it swoops down in it's death dance

He'll soar the skies,he'll  hide from view
He'll do the things he's been taught to do
Before you know it he'll be all grown
He'll be teaching others that are his own

But for right now he'll  have to learn
Of all these things til it's his turn
So that when he's older he will be
The wise old owl on a teaching spree

Copyright © Charles Reese | Year Posted 2014

Details | Quatrain |

Sympathy by Briton Riviere

The little girl sat alone on the step Thinking of what she had said and done Sad and alone, she needed a friend Gladly there appeared just the one A cold nose and a friendly lick Her dog snuggled up without question As always he needed no explanations There with the greatest of canine affection
Inspired by his 1878 picture- Sympathy go to Allposters.com/

Copyright © Barbara Gorelick | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain |

The tigress' mark

She prowls the night
with clenched jaw and pride,
nothing able to smite
her remorseless stride.

The ominous reflection of moon 
shines forth from devouring eyes
of a nocturnal beauty spun on the loom
of the Creator's bid and sighs.

Grace moves her every limb
and she precedes an enraged scream
caused by ruins of a forest now grim
and held alive by all but one stream.

Her claws prophesy of vengeance 
though her heart yearns for reconciliation.
Yet now there would be no leniency 
for a soul's annihilation. 

Now on journeys through lush valleys and ashes
she will embark
until all that remains after furious thrashes
will be the tigress' mark.

Copyright © Robyn Thomas | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain |

IF I Were an Elephant

Of all the mammals living on the land,
the elephant is largest of that kind.
But if I were an elephant, I’d show
the largest also were my heart and mind!

If I could be this beast, here’s what I know:
I’m not some made-up Dumbo that can fly.
I socialize; I grumble, and I need
a jumbo size of tissues when I cry!

My hearing is superb, but did you know
that I can even listen with my feet?
I put my trunk down by my feet and hear
vibrations, and that’s one astounding FEAT.

It’s obvious I’m strong. My trunk alone
has forty-thousand muscles, and guess what?
I’ll wrap my trunk around you, for BIG LOVE
means I’ll be giving great big hugs a LOT.

I cannot see too well. Nor can I jump,
but with my padded feet, I softly walk,
I am so skilled, for peanuts I won’t work!
But first I need to teach myself to talk!

Because if I can talk, I’ll speak out for
my fellow elephants endangered by
the foolishness and cruelty of those
who harm us when we’re in such short supply!

We’re also more than stunts inside a tent.
And though our skin’s as thick as an old shoe,
we have compassion, and we mourn our dead.
As feeling creatures, we should have rights too!

Now even though we elephants are huge,
and probably I weigh at least a ton,
I love to laugh and play! Climb on my back
and take a ride. You’ll see that I am fun.

I hope you see that I’m a lot like you.
So take care with your fat jokes around me
because it’s very true what people say.
I now have got amazing memory!

12/10/16

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2016

Details | Quatrain |

TO A STARFISH



A tinge of gold revealed in sunset's blink
upon its face, caressed by foamed bubbles
marvelous starfish, draped in pearl and pink,
lucent as  fluid rails of ocean walls.
I stoop to claim the gift left there for keeps
and hold it to the sky flashed with moonlight ,
to revel at this sculpture from tide's leaps...
its disc gracefully twisting like a kite
where a belly swishes with the ebbing tide
leaving aqua-rocks to glint like dimpled foil:
a glory belonging only to nature, never ever
to the possession of human hands.



To A --Contest of David Lindsay
7/19/2016


Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2016

Details | Quatrain |

In The Forest that Surrounds

Deep in our forest woodland,
	where white tailed deer roam free,
I thought to take a moment,
	to listen quietly,
to the whispered sighing,
	of breezes in the trees.
As pleasant a sound as I have ever heard,
	for my senses it doth please!

There I came upon deer grazing,
	they showed no sign of fear,
the moment was endearing,
	as they watched me standing near.
Silently I stood watching,
	twas heaven sent for me,
until a Ruffed Grouse drumming,
	disturbed my reverie.

Like a painted pastoral scene,
	captured by an artist’s eye,
it was a moment frozen in time,
	though time itself flew by.
Then with their white tails swaying,
	they trotted down the glade,
which ended my encounter,
	with a moment heaven made.

It’s often I remember,
	that quiet, forest scene,
when Nature’s generosity,
	with pleasures seldom seen,
offered me an insight,
	into her hidden realms
where her favour was revealed.
	A delight that overwhelms.

Rhymer.  May 22nd, 2016.

		

	.

Copyright © Denis Barter | Year Posted 2016

Details | Quatrain |

Nature

Nature

As I walk through the forest
I hear the silence of the wood
Nature is at contest
Where beasts once stood

The wind rustling the trees
Shaking to the ground
Earth creeping with weeds
Smell nature all around

Creatures climbing high
Beasts burrowing deep
No birds in the sky
Cause nature to weep

As the one on two arrives
And takes nature in threes
Those on four will not survive
Save the five he never sees

This new beast that comes
And ploughs the land
Nature come undone
By this one hand

All the animals they scatter
To lands far and wide
As nature begins to shatter
Turn, to run and hide

Blood spills over the earth
From this hand that strikes
Against nature's last birth
The cry that fills the nights

As the earth turns to mud
I hear the silence of death
With a resounding thud
Nature takes it's last breath

As man turns and walks away
His unholy quest now done
Head hung low in dismay
For now in nature there is none

Falling to his knees
Precious air has gone
Along with the trees
Natures vengeance is long

Too late does man learn
That nature holds all
These things that he yearns
And by ignorance he'd fall

His body by earth reclaimed
To bring about new life
Man's name once shamed
Nature, reborn without strife

Copyright © Sean Taylor | Year Posted 2015

Details | Quatrain |

Wolf In Disguise

They slowly float
All forms and size
A sheep, a boat
Wolf in disguise
              They slowly float
              Mystic and wise
              Horse without throat
              I swat at flies
     I use a note
     Containing lies
     And take an oath
     To cut the ties
                     To slowly float
                     To shrink in size
                     Hide in my coat
                     Stifle all cries
             They slowly float,
             A sheep, a boat
             My tattered coat
             Vulnerable throat
                              Wolf in disguise
                              Mystic and wise
                              I cut all ties
                              Today I'll rise

***

March 15, 2017
Copyright © Darren White

Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2017

Details | Quatrain |

The Wolf

(after Alfred de Vigny)

He glided through the somber pines, 
a shark in surly ocean. 
In truth, I loved his sleek, low lines, 
the danger in his motion. 

Wild creatures do the best they can 
to keep their young ones fed, 
and I'm ashamed to be a man - 
I shot the snow wolf dead. 

The first ball doesn't always kill. 
He'd need another round. 
I tracked his blood up Cullen Hill, 
to where he'd gone to ground. 

To meet with death, he chose his place 
under a dogwood tree: 
as I beheld his handsome face, 
he blazed fierce eyes at me. 

He knew the game was up at last, 
nowhere to run or hide: 
but in that glare, a meaning passed 
that's scalded me inside. 

I saw acceptance in his look, 
and dignity, and hurt. 
And wonder, at the time I took, 
as I knelt in the dirt. 

"It's how it is," the green eyes said, 
"to moan or whine is weak. 
You've done for me. I'll soon be dead. 
There are no words to speak." 

I did it with my hunting knife, 
then wept hard for my friend. 
I pray I'll own his grace in life, 
his courage at my end.

Copyright © Michael Coy | Year Posted 2017

Details | Quatrain |

The coward man is

Isn't it funny, the coward man is...
Calls himself the apex predator...
Yet scared as a puppy he'll wizz...
Without his hand held terminator...

We fight bulls and cry glory...
While we blind and maim...
To ensure our victory...
By crippling till lame...

Big cats and bears...
Detoothed and declawed...
For he who dares...
To pit dog to be mauled...

Standing with aim from afar...
In the distance his quarry stands proud...
Earths growing battle scar...
His fanfare to the cheering crowd...

If man was no coward...
He'd face this beast alone...
Moving ever forward...
With a dulcet tone...

He'd need no tool of death...
His awe would tenfold...
At the width and breadth...
Of the beauty that nature does hold...

Oh what cowards we are...
To feel superior if only...
We hold the card...
That makes the wild so lonely...

But what greatness we'd have...
To lower and humble ourselves...
At the mighty beasts grave...
Our grief would turn sand to salve...

We cowards that kill...
Abuse and defile and destroy...
And yet this earth will ever still...
Give life to all manner of girl and boy...

So cowards, it is time...
To stand tall and throw off...
The mantle without spine...
And say, today it's enough...

We cowards that were...
Shall kill no thing...
Resurrect and prosper...
All that is living ...

And cowards no more...
We of human race...
Shall love all score...
Of sentient trace...

Copyright © Sean Taylor | Year Posted 2015

Details | Quatrain |

Mulligan

Well, here I am sitting on the golf course
Watching the fireworks display overhead
Yes, I know I'm not as big as a horse
But at least one golfer I have misled

“Kerplunk" came the ball, bouncing off my shell
Casting it deep in the adjoining woods
That’s when I heard someone yell, “Mulligan”
They ran toward the golfer like a band of hoods

I was wondering how they knew my name
As they all ran toward the errant golf ball
And then banished the golfer from their game
Without asking if my shell had been mauled

There’s much food to be found on the golf course
So I still traverse many a fairway
But it never ceases to surprise me
How my name’s called when e’er balls go astray

Luckily my shell is hard as granite
Golf ball injuries I never sustain
So my Mulligan family moved here
Friendly golfers already know our name




Wikipedia definition of "Mulligan" - In golf, a mulligan is a stroke that is replayed from the spot of the previous stroke without penalty, due to an errant shot made on the previous stroke. The result is, as the hole is played and scored, as if the first errant shot had never been made. This practice is disallowed entirely by strict rules and players who attempt it or agree to let it happen may be disqualified from sanctioned competitions.

Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2014

Details | Quatrain |

My Animal

Alone or in a group, I can get by, and also I have friends of whom I’m fond. It’s even possible that I would die for one with whom I shared a special bond. I’m speaking as a dolphin. Could you guess? Of all God’s animals, that is the one that shares its traits with me, for I possess intelligence, and also I am fun! One skill of mine that I appreciate is shared by dolphins. Though my sounds aren’t “clicks,” I have the talent to communicate, and like the dolphin, I can learn good tricks! How fun to jump the waves like dolphins do! Inside warm currents I would swim and play. Beneath the deep blue ocean, I could view its beauties, roaming freely every day. Some dolphins have saved humans from a chase by sharks! The kindest creatures of the sea are those that have a smile fixed on their face! As sweet as they, a dolphin I would be.
By Andrea Dietrich for Kristen Bruni's Contest: "If I was Animal What Would I Be"

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2011

Details | Quatrain |

In the Meadow

Cows bellow, low, heads between rails
such large deep sad eyes, such full bags.
For whom do they await, no one home
to let them out, share out their milk.

Not long ago I saw you wandering off with him
his hand caressing your neck, gripping your arm
holding you stiff, obedient to his will
and you were bound to follow, no sound

escaped your lips, and me, why am I watching
for the scene to play out? Don’t we all know
don’t we all grieve, for the coming of that day
when cowl slips down, the bellow, low aches.

You won’t come home, will you my dear.
I guess I paid the right price for a job well done
Your cheating heart won’t bestir us to wait
Never more.  This farm is sold outright.

Copyright © Sheri Fresonke Harper | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain |

Dear Inconsiderate

You’re always dragging on me--
got your sticky icky leavings all
pver the place, 
any place most inconvenient.

Always kind of spooky, nervous
but defiant too, back up
step out, get nose to nose
as if to say you’re here for good.

I know it’s you, at night, tasting
my eyes, making me wiggle
and a little itchy
squirmy but never squished, somehow…

One day there’s one of you,
lurking in a corner, the next, a window,
under floorboards, cupboards, skittering

all over my floor and ceilings
and in my clothes so when I undress
there you are, sitting like a star
right on my breast. Okay. I needed that.

To scream. Whack at something
so terribly invasive, biting,
so terribly unobtrusive, until
you leave your icky sticky leavings

as bumps all over me. When 
were you walking over me, in the dark
while I dreamed, taking over 
saying I’m a leaving little spider left.

Copyright © Sheri Fresonke Harper | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain |

The Snail


The little snail made his way across the walk
Proudly carrying his brown house upon his back
I stopped to watch him so slowly inch along
Cringing at the sticky goo that marked his track

I admit I smiled, thought him cute in his own way
As he finally made his way into the flower garden
Wondering if he even had a thought or two at all
Or just ate my plants without my grudging  pardon




Copyright © Barbara Gorelick | Year Posted 2014

Details | Quatrain |

Who Murdered the Easter Bunny

Sam, the box turtle, sauntered down deserted gravel road;
when he bumped into Elli, a gorgeous, slender, green toad.
Together they stopped to admire the rustic scenery;
noting, Bunny would like hiding eggs in all that greenery.

Easter will be in a few weeks, kids will have fun hunting eggs;
Bunny would be quite busy hopping on two spindly legs.
Sadie, a monarch butterfly fluttered into their path;
she was perched on a tree branch taking her daily sun bath.

“Hi!” she said to Sam and Sadie. “Have you heard hottest news?
The Easter Bunny was murdered, on the headline reviews.”
Sam and Sadie were speechless, much too shocked to say the least;
who murdered the Easter Bunny, who was the wicked beast?

No one could think of anyone who wanted Bunny killed,
the whole town was suspected, everyone thoroughly grilled.
It couldn’t be Sam or Sadie; they were not at the scene;
whoever it was, they were desperate, extremely mean.

Small town sheriff investigated the deadly crime site;
there lay Bunny sprawled along the roadside, eggs colored bright.
Struck down by angry mother hawk, thought he robbed her love nest;
sheriff pulled out the handcuffs, placed mother under arrest.

Copyright © 2013 By Caryl S. Muzzey

Copyright © Caryl Muzzey | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain |

Our Cow

We bought a cow at the state fair 
and loaded her on the truck
to take her home, but halfway there
we had a stroke of good luck.

We hit a rock, and from the crash
she bounced away down the hill,
she mooed and made an awful splash
in the stream beside the mill.

The water was still awful cold,
the cow already freezing…
resisting as we roped and pulled
her breathing turned to sneezing.

My father said this won’t end well,
he couldn’t have been more wrong.
He thought the cow, we ought to sell
but changed his mind before long.

We took her home, our shook up cow, 
unloaded her in the barn.
We thought we’d let her sleep for now
then see to her in the morn’.

The next day, just around sunrise,
the cow already awake.
I milked, and to my great surprise,
I got a frozen milkshake! 

05/02/15

Copyright © The Grahamburglar | Year Posted 2015

Details | Quatrain |

Winter Woods

Winter wears
a warm white coat,
and wraps a scarf
around her throat.

She knits the trees
lacy white caps,
and carpets with snow,
growing things that nap.

Then in the morning,
when hungry creatures wake,
she fills their bowls
with frosted flakes.

Copyright © Darlene Gifford | Year Posted 2014

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Let Them Eat Cake

Never a girl 
so pretty as she
hair in pink curls
& a bunny called Dee

So happy together
always best friends
no matter the weather
they'd play til the end

A sweet tooth she had
whipped, frosted & candy coated
it all made her glad
& sometimes even bloated

It happened one Sunday
in the morning she'd wake
they'd all hear her say
"Let them eat cake!"

Copyright © Lizzy Love | Year Posted 2015

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The Migration

A peculiar sight at the river mouth, A flock of birds flying to the south, It kind of caught me way off guard, As I headed to work in my car. A thick white frost adorned the grass, As my fowl friends flew on past, I wandered if they planned to nest, Muttering thoughts upon frosty breath. We continued toward the ice blue sky, 'Till I noticed out of the corner of my eye, Bulging storm clouds behind the hills, With more toward the sea further still. My feathered friends proved quite wise. Settling for freezing cold but dry, With a howling storm in their backs, You're better off worse than being in that. (C) 2016 PJ Bayliss

Copyright © PJ Bayliss | Year Posted 2016

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Golden Retrievers



For those who've never owned a dog Your life has been missing a treat The greatest feeling ever known to man The epitome of love at your feet Most loyal companion we've ever known Our Golden Retriever is that The most happy joyful disposition ever We learn a lot from this fact In spite of all of our many problems These guys are always there They cheer us up and help us realize Life's simple secret is to share Share the love that's in everyone's heart Nothing's more important in life Doggies know, pay attention my friends Their loyalty gets rid of our strife © Jack Ellison 2014

Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2014

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He's of Zero Worth

(I'd Pay a Million)

He's an ordinary gray, long and lean,
relieved by ashen whiskers and chin.
A perfect white 'V' marks his breast
and one snowy paw mocks the rest.

What is he worth to this old friend
when dozens can be had of his kind?
Some are more worthy of love and trust
and others are spared his hoary crust.

But daily I treasure his sweet purr
and gently stroke his ordinary fur.
I rest my eyes on his rangy form
and rue the day when he'll be gone.





Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2014

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Murphy Made History

At Wrigley’s Field in Chicago
He bought two tickets, but struck out.
Barred from the game, with his pet,
“He stinks!”rang J. K.Wrigley’s shout.

At Sianis’ tavern across the way,
his pet, Murphy, was quite a hit.
But at the ball park, life turned sour;
they didn’t favor his goat one whit.

He aimed his pet to bring them luck
to watch World Series pennant wave.
Ejection brought anger, and a curse,
that loss would trail them to the grave.

The Cubs have yet to take the prize;
for seventy years, their losses count,
while Murphy’s name has garnered fame
and Wrigley’s shame they can’t surmount.
 




Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2016

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Tiger Cat


We had a brave cat about two years old,
With a great big heart and courage bold.
A neighbor’s dog chased her home one day,
To the window ledge, where he held her at bay. 

He barked and leaped and tried to bite, 
But our little cat showed a plucky fight. 
With tiger stripes upon her back,
She bravely defended against attack.

He tried to leap and nip her toes,
But her sharp claws slashed his nose.
Her hunched back was plain to see,
He’d be smarter to let her be. 

Copyright © James Tate | Year Posted 2016