Animation Poems - Poems about Animation

From out of the lacustrine,dense tract, green Lining the silent mossy forlorn lake keen , Came out leaping and hopping,a fat frog ; He landed and stopped on a reedy clog , As he saw the Chameleon on a stem frail , Gripping fast the rush with its prehensile tail , Croaking and flicking his tongue around, To relish one and...

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Setting up my YouTube channel is a nightmare As I’m techy challenged and want to swear But you poetry soupers have inspired me To grow and take strokes in social media sea It’s pretty basic not much there but dreams My dragon stew animation and a song I sing Once it’s a bit more than bones to pick I’ll write another...

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"The sea does whisper to all eternity...just sit and listen" by poet Shhhhhh!” says the sea As she rolls and heaves giving up her energy In waves of azure blue surging gracefully on queue. Her arms of creamy foam stretching out the miles where she has roamed to catch the light. As I stand in awe watching in the moonlit night she whispers to me “Shhhhhhh!” says...

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Clouds of many forms, shifting in the sky, Fading in and out, quietly passing by. Seeing floating forms in full animation, Requires a reset of mind’s vibration. For one must look deeply beyond mere sight, To see all the shapes in the dark and light. Open channels of imagination, Now you recognize the mind’s creation. Cloud after cloud they begin to connect, You still...

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You say Life is rough O tell me what makes it tough; If not of your idiosyncrasy Life is a rock of intricacy Room of animation and stagnation Those must be tasted as abnegation Yes, even the opulent must travel through So live it madly or sweetly And sing it silently or loudly. Life is dark mode's light It shines when lit And overshadows the dark...

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Animation I grew up with, Bride of fantasy stories. Comedy with action I watch, Death of worries I snatch. Earth of penitence is Fist of imagination I sense. Girdle of suffocation, I sike Hinterland of minds, I hike. Insatiable finds take off Juggernaut of marvels thereof. Kommandatura with style, Love of sequels I file. Mysteries of lifestyle are not farfetched, Nincompoops play unwretched. Over and under a replay of...

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Boohoo is bidding for Boo-Boo But Yogi’s not seeking a deal, He’s scanning the park for a picnic Looking forward to his evening meal. Warner Brothers deny their involvement So investors are kept in the dark, But rumours are spreading ’round Bedrock And the restrooms of Jellystone Park. Boohoo is bidding for Boo-Boo, It’s becoming a sought-after brand; For Yogi it’s deeply upsetting And he’s drawing...

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Ty Tot Ty Taw Tay Tater Tat Ty Tid! Ty Tid! Ty Taw Tay Tater Tat!...

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DreamWorks Animation released A film with a turkey-leg feast And Donald Trump laughed, "Democrats are daft to believe that's how palms are greased!"...

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Low winter sun, cloudless blue sky fresh blanket of snow Hell below zero....

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I have learned that Adolf Hitler has survived. He's in suspended animation and will be revived. Hitler will be released from suspended animation. His evil and horrible plan will be world domination. He will still be evil, he will certainly not repent. He will kill millions of people who are innocent. But I just heard on the news that something went...

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Make-up on dressed for work We all become life’s animation Soldier’s firefighters Doctors and Nurses Dressing up so all can see Costumes like Halloween Trick or treat money we receive Television mimics this play we are all in They call it; action on the set We watch others playing our parts on TV Enjoying what we do everyday Yet they get academy...

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don’t call him a baby... don’t make fun of his tears... his soul’s tender — he runs and hides, under a chromatic beanbag with a dark emotional spectrum. when he returns to play Sleeping Queens,* he sniffles, wipes tears on his sleeve (and yours) “You hurt my feelings.” you find yourself not unlike the Road Runner** sailing off a cliff — suspended in animation. the reward of...

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A wooden pencil's made of lead A pen is filled with ink These two insensate objects Spur my brain to think...

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The girl has reached the terminal with rogue cancer cells creeping in the lung, the pain pulsates in the writhing body with the last rhythm of the swan song. The distant drowsy eyes decline to close lest the final sleep comes uncalled, takes away the wonderful world from her. The feeble breath tells the tortured lung : Don’t give up yet, let’s fight...

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