Shape Animal Poems | Examples
These Shape Animal poems are examples of Animal poems about Shape. These are the best examples of Animal Shape poems written by international poets.
If I was your Squirrel
I'd employ my unique style
To bring you joy and entertainment
And find ways to make you smile.
I would skip around you playfully
Just to make you giggle
Which would trigger my transformation
With a hyperactive wiggle.
As with many amongst Squirrel kind,
You'll see my hair is red.
And just like my tail
I've a frizzy, bushy head.
I'd offer friendly company
And a listening ear.
Help to ease the bordem you might feel
Through insomnia.
I'd show you all the places
We Squirrels like to forage.
I'd tour you through the danger zones
Where we need our courage.
When shifting back to squirrelness
I may scurry back to my den.
But my Squirrel sense remains alert
To your need for me again.
A hollowed weight descends upon the floor,
The floorboards creak beneath a phantom hoof.
Though sight remains a cold and distant proof,
A skeletal presence paces by the door.
I feel the stir of leathery wings that soar
Within the mind, beneath this heavy roof;
It stands in silence, jagged and aloof,
A shadow-shape from ancient, darker lore.
A sudden echo of a breathless sigh
Disturbs the dust like wind on barren graves.
I reach to touch the void where ribs should be,
And find a pulse that doesn't seek to fly,
But lingers in the silence that it craves—
A secret kept for those who truly see.
One couple of days ,Noah brought paired creatures away from storm,
Sailed to far Zambia where wife's shape got deformed
With nothing to frolic, mute and blind romped, amidst highflood's rush,
Animals played good good lovin' in darkened hush...
Babies born by leaps , four blind mice became witnesses in the the Ark
Wife kept her own kiddy bump, stayed dumb, yet how can they embark?
Heaven shocked," on the list,we forgot the procreation supply,
Keep the new flock, mute Noah, did I say go forth and multiply?'
I n.
l a
ove the oce
I sleep in wet sand.
My biggest fear is
a child's little hand.
You guessed my secret.
Don't ever blab.
Yours, sincerely,
riendly Sand Cr
F a
A b.
"Until one has loved an animal, a part of one's soul remains unawakened"
by Anatole France
Animals: all the various kinds
every shape or color I'd choose
I'd love them all, not one left behind
in my longed-for garden's earthy hues
And, for each one, a home with nice views.
In my garden, two squirrels you'd find
for each needs a friend that looks the same.
Cows, lookiing so sweet, you know they're kind
and, of course, only those that are tame
Thus, no lioness with tousled mane.
Rock Island hens, and the birds in flight
a chorus of songs from those that sing,
Bunnies, puppies, kittens, black or white.
To all creatures, this wish I would bring
a warm home, safe far from winter's sting.
I was a nervous young fawn
Tasting sweet April grass in a lovely meadow
Sensing danger, realizing wolves were surrounding me
Bam!
I had shapeshifted into one of them.
Their alpha was sharp, he sensed I was still a deer.
He urged them to close in.
Wham!
I am now an eagle,
soaring high above the pack, out of reach
Even their alpha looks confused
I do not think they understand shape shifters.
Who is that? His sister asked, staring at his art.
It’s me! Rodney Rooter said. Don’t be so smart!
But you don’t look that dapper, that handsome, that thin!
With a sister like this, it’s a wonder what a shape he was in!
Rodney had been pleased with his self portrait, proud.
Now his sister’s voice had commanded a large gathering crowd.
That pig is adorable! Uncle Hawg said. Who is he then?
Rodney Rooter sucked in his tummy, trying to look thin.
Shenanigans and poppycock -
the wild wood with unrest.
Will amazon deliver the chest
of acorns and walnuts before Winter sets?
On their “I” phones, those with bushy tails
don’t want to work for nibbles. Kips,
after a long, long, long day of texting,
waiting, shopping. Others hoard or steal
those treasure troves from every tree.
Collectibles, particularly nasty -
why would a little squirrel want a Barbie,
when a grownup can buy out and store
each box, in perfect shape, for a decade?
“Play with your phone, little kitten.”
Shenanigans and poppycock,
finger-licking goodness of ‘rents,
loving the kits with abominable gifts.
11/15/2022
Contest: THE CRAP SHOOT #2
Sponsor: John Lawless
Disco squirrel now will reach for the stars
I watch and he takes off; being all ours.
The onlookers are amazed as he goes into a spin.
It’s amazing the fantastic shape he is in!
It’s all that chasing he does during the day.
He has a girlfriend, and boy, do they play!
They have worn a path around my oak tree.
I smile at the warm happy memory.
How did he get his name? A newcomer asks. And why?
Watch him for a few seconds, I eagerly reply.
Oh, wow! He does have the moves! She says now.
He can twist and groove and he packs lots of pow!
The deer tamer came in the shape of a gnome.
He lived in a house in the valley of Rome.
Not the Italy Rome, but the whimsical valley.
Where he raised deer up right, along with his wife, bright Sally.
Sun loud
No cloud
Pack up
Meet up
Split, Blue
Come too
Up hill
Splash, chill
In lake
Dark shape!
Swim still?
Lost thrill
Leg? Fin?
Not in!
Cretin?
Eaten!
Float, creek
Sprung leak!
Big scare
Hiss air
Leak get
All wet
In drink
Bat sink!
It’s grim
Can’t swim
Gat found
Hang down
Stop, clown!
Get down!
Be fair,
She’s scared
From tree
Gat see
Strange beast
Friends feast
Just then
Shelled friend
Showed head
And said
On back!
Land tack
To shore
Thank more
New plan
Dry land!
Shadows like spider webs across the lane
Shape-shifting slowly as the sun drifts
Across oranges of autumn making the hills sing.
I think of waning summer days and
Autumn's chilly nights soon coming,
Calling for warm jackets and scarves,
While the squirrels bed down in their nests
To await the coming of another spring
For scampering in yonder meadow flowering.
HONORABLE MENTION
written September 27, 2021
"Write What Inspires" Poetry Contest
All Poetry
Violin shape on my little head
I’m a meat eater, Mr. Fred.
Come closer, guy.
Give me your eye.
I’m a brown recluse, and now you’re dead.
There it stood
in its bright
off-white shape;
head held in perfection
by its firmed neck.
A proud mushroom,
signaling the transition
of summer into fall.
Beneath its shade,
little black ants
scurried to and fro.
Sometimes when I get a little bored,
my hands will roam...
folding, creasing, creating
life from simple pieces of colored paper
that, I will turn into dragons or birds.
Once, I created a big green dragon;
he flew away to another realm, never returning.
Disheartened I was determined
to create my origami friends,
in colors that I could hold
deep within my mind’s eye;
imprisoning them within my own
subconscious, where if they flew away
they could only go so far.
I built within my mind, an aviary
with, crystal lights;
where colored birds of every size and shape,
populated by my own magical hands.
When they flew up to the top
there was no escape.