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The Sex Life Of An Armadillo
by Ellison, Jack
by Ball, Judy
by Mahoney, Donal
by lawless, John
Armadillo: A Child
by Matose, Joseph
by Moorman, Curtis
by Kendrick, Sara
by Kendrick, Sara
by Ball, Judy
Armadillo II -- The Requiem
by Moriarty, Richard
View all new Armadillo Poems
The Best Armadillo Poems
Armadilly came galloping into Troll Lake, bent on seeking a new life, to unwind.
He’d rode out of the Badlands, leaving only a trail of blowing dust and leaves, behind.
His steady stead Jalopy had been pounding feet, relentlessly with powerful strides.
Rearing up, Armadilly stopped before our Troll Bridge with his slingshot at his side.
I could see, he rode the sleekest mount, and the biggest tortoise, that I had ever seen.
Man that armadillo knew his tortoise flesh… this was the fastest one, ever been!
I would say: he truly looked, the devil’s mount… with glowing, fire stocked eyes.
The stranger named himself as Armadilly, but his true identity, could not be denied.
He was really Armadilly Billy, The Slingshot Kidster, as he bowed to us, so very low.
With a yes Ma'am, and a no Sir, he was smooth and could charm, near any old soul.
The Trolls loved him for the spell binding stories, that at the campfire, he gave away.
He never talked about his past, but we knew who he was, without being told, that day.
The rumor had it that Sheriff Bunny Garret had shot him dead, on one fateful day.
Another said he’d faked his death, heading south to Mexico, his life to live away.
But we knew better, for he was here with us, right now, on this illustrious day.
We knew he was a kind and misunderstood guy, because of what I’m about to say.
He saved our squirrel, Funkundilly, from a hawk diving straight for her, inward bound.
With his slingshot, like streaked lightening, he forced the hawk to spiral to the ground.
And we all applauded that Funkundilly was now, once again, so very safe and sound.
Then he strode, spurs a jangling, to dish out his own type of justice, so very renowned.
With a steely glint in his eye, he ordered the hawk away, or meet his end, he did convey.
And you can say that frightened bully hawk, really high tailed it, as he ran away.
Everyone celebrated that night, with Armadilly, all the way to dawn’s embrace.
Before he left, Armadilly knew from then on, he’d always have a home in this place.
But his mind was set on a wandering, more of this world’s adventures, to unweave.
So with a HiHo! Jalopy! He took off, leaving in another cloud of dust and leaves.
But I heard him shout that he’d be back again, soon…
And we were sure, that’s just what he would do!
Inspired by Silly Billy the Kidster's--- Billy the Kid Blog
An epic poem by Carol Eastman
Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2012
invading my privacy
you are a leper
Copyright © Ijm seven | Year Posted 2016
An old Ethiopian veteran of the love wars
once told a newlywed Kenyan kid:
If you want the infant marriage to survive,
make it to the golden years Mt. Kilimanjaro side
You gotta keep the giraffe standing up,
when the ecstasy mountain air gets thin at night
When you’re starting the climb,
don’t early reach
for the apex of a lovemaking climax
You gotta stay rock hard,
climbing the pleasure wall for the long haul —
Or don’t even shorty night come at all
Keep the flagpole reared tall;
because the minute your
testosterone stone levels fall,
you might as well go geld yourself
Premature burial ...
put the family jewels in a coffin box
Don’t bother to take off your pants,
might as well keep on your socks
Prepare to have plenty eunuch days
of abstinent nights
Too many failed erections
gonna get you shovels loads
of opposite sex dissatisfaction
Expect a bedroom eviction notice,
telling you to
get your droopy drawers packing
Frequent impotent performances,
gonna get her eyebrow curtains raised
So many flaccid phallic early encore excuses made
gonna get you tossed out of the bed,
and kicked downstairs onto the couch
Premature ejection is coming,
your woman’s been too long frustrated ...
doubts gon start creeping in:
Where you been,
who you seeing ...
Why you keep coming home
with your love sacs empty?
Those suspicions gon start stiffening:
She’s gonna wanna know
whose arms been keeping your bottom mind bent
You’re gonna wanna know
where in the world did your lost manhood get sent
If you don’t wanna lose access
to her intimate-starved heart,
you better start trying harder on keeping it hard
Learn to get a second wind of stamina,
too much soft effort gon get your love privilege barred
Premature pleasure aborted love
will have your armadillo snout soul dragging
Premature love not long enough
will have your elephant nose spirit sagging
Don’t depend on bottled passion,
pharmaceutical extended sex
Too many early evening elongated failures
gonna get you a premature ex
Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2018
When you stuck your paw out from that shelter cage,
Did you have any idea whose sleeve you clawed?
Did you see a heart you needed to engage?
Was there a sense that I’d see you and applaud?
Was it your intent other pets to upstage?
How could you know I’d love a critter so flawed?
Six toes on one paw, seven on another
For some reason you knew I’d be your mother
I was not searching for a small, gray tabby
But love springs forth when we least expect it to
Born in a barn, scruffy looking, so shabby
My ferile heart you were able to subdue
It mattered not that I was tired and crabby
My feigned, rough exterior you could see through
I wanted a guard dog, surely you knew that
But I ended up with a thirteen-toed cat
One who came to know my lap as her pillow
And oddly had discriminatory taste
I’d have had more use for an armadillo
Possums on a half shell of earthworms make waste
But Katy won my heart with a tail that billowed
While eying tuna with a smirk of distaste
A fur ball she was, but I’ll not forget her
I’ve never known a more devoted lover
*Ottava Rima for Jared's contest on "New Love"
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2011
Hank had cowboyed and rodeoed fer nigh on forty years,
Ridin' in sleet, rain and snow a-herdin' cantankerous steers.
His hide was tough as leather and his legs was slightly bowed,
But brandin' dogies and fixin' fences was all he ever knowed!
His gut was made of iron from a diet of taters, beans and bacon.
Many times he was throwed from his hoss but his will remained unshaken.
He'd been bit by rattlesnakes and scarred from many barroom brawls,
And kicked by many a skittish bronc while muckin' out their stalls!
When tryin' to halt stampedes, Hank was often gravely gored,
And was hoarse from yellin' and cussin' at that riotous horde.
When shoein' hosses they often left an imprint on his chest,
Where flyin' hoofs landed leavin' him angry and depressed!
He didn't git rich and couldn't hoard money fer a rainy day;
Not much chance of accumulatin' such on a cowpokes meager pay.
His bed was usually 'neath the stars with his saddle fer a pillow,
Sharin' space with his old dog Spike and an occasional armadillo!
One day he up and told the boss, "I've had my fill of a cowboy's life.
I'm a-quittin' as of now. My old bones is weary from all this strife.
I'm saddle sore and tired of bunkhouse livin' and all yer stingin' slurs.
You kin take this job and shove it 'cause I'm a-hangin' up my spurs!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2015 All Rights Reserved
Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2015
There was an armadillo
That came from Amarillo
He discovered an 18-wheeler
To really be a killer
Now the armadillo from Amarillo
Lies in death on a concrete pillow
Perhaps he should have stayed in Amarillo
Copyright © Curtis Moorman | Year Posted 2013
HOME. By Ted Bundy
There is a place not far from here where purple maggots are the size of deer, pink frogs are there wearing bowties and hats, now put your hands together for the rolling skating rats. Green fluorescent tawny owls are snorkelling in the pool,while a wallaby in swimming trunks tries to play it cool. Its also the island where neon zebras are found,they plug into a capsule buried underground, the lions fish for skunks and illuminous crayfish dress up as monks. Theres a barrel of laughing monkeys and some gigantic leathery snails, cockroaches modelling footie boots,even anorexic whales.
Spiders in tracksuits riding pushbikes with ease, with a cross-dressing chipmunk flying high on trapeze. Bristly skinned donkeys snowboard on thin ice, and a 5 headed emu shoots craps and rolls dice. Glance over yonder at the transparent camels, their glass humps are crawling with mice, stare at the turtles dressed to the nines, and here comes a beard complete with head lice. Theres some inbred iguanas,and some lukewarm limey lugworms, snorting clear cider through straws, gorillas dress as men and theres a psychotic hen, taping rusty razors to her claws. Over at the gym, theres miss matched mastiffs, squashing each other underfoot, and an armadillo in a pin striped suit is trying to pick up a shot-putt. Hidden amongst the undergrowth you might be lucky enough to see, our south american weasel sloth sucking leather splinters from a tree, and theres no need to stare in awe if you see a tartan wild boar,trying to saw his assistant in half, his illusion tricks are a mystifying mix, guillotine, two nuns and a bloody laugh. Up here on the right is our new Bull arena, the atmospheres heavy, ive never heard it meaner, in runs the first one already *****scared,beaten and blind, running in circles and ****ed out of his mind, the poisoned steely spikes creating pus filled blistered sores, the crowd ****ing love it killing Spanish matadors. A family of minks are enjoying the show, sipping their juice and gin, i especially admire their matching attire, its top of the range human skin. This is a change from the norm, a better way of life, a lot more colour, and a lot less bleeding strife. Its a paradise for sure, and packed with fun and glee, where a hip hop alley cat, a sabre toothed fruit bat, and a clarinet playing koala, will serve you cake and tea. Yes, this is the place where pink Buffalo roam, Heaven on Earth for them, they call it Home.
Copyright © Ted Bundy | Year Posted 2012
After seeing Jurassic Park
A scant few minutes after dark
I dropped my burger and froze in fright.
There, lurking and almost hidden
Formidable and forbidden,
Stood a hideous sight!
A historic creature, oh, so scary,
With armored shell and feet so hairy,
Held me in a hypnotic stare!
Its body heavily plated,
Bony and variegated,
Appeared forebodingly there
I grew dreadfully nervous
Of this dinosaur, impervious
To my imminent cardiac!
But later, safely on my pillow,
I knew it was only an armadillo
Having a Mac attack!
Copyright © James Tate | Year Posted 2011
A pill for this
A pill for that
A pill for your pet armadillo
dog or Rat.
A pill to make you sleep
A pill to wake you up
Drunk with water
from a glass or a cup.
A pill to take you up
a pill to take you down
A pill to chase away the blues
and make a smile from a thrown.
A pill to reverse the side effects of a pill
A pill for Humpty Dumpty
Tom Thumb and Jack and Jill.
A pill to make you virile
A pill for a aching head
One for the husband
the other for the unreceptive wife in bed.
A pill for swamp fever hemerodes and gout
A pill that you put where the sun don't shine
another for your mouth,
Pink yellow green and blue
even if you don't need to take them
there is a pill for you.
Shake me up I'd rattle
I gave more chemicals in me than blood
But still the Doctors swear their doin me good.
The Pharmaceutical and their shareholders
rub their greedy hands
and live in exotic lands.
A pill to make you younger
A pill to make you-
'' Live forever''!!!
Peter Dome.copyright.2014. Jan
Copyright © Peter Dome | Year Posted 2014
It was dark and dreary, and the dawn had not yet
begun to break, as I walked down the steps
to fetch the paper while my family slept.
A hint of a breeze wafted through the trees,
dawn's early light was not yet in sight.
A slight movement appeared from the corner of my eye,
something stirred, a slight crunching-like sound was all I heard.
A cat, a small animal of sorts, hard to see,
moving closer it became clear,
another of those nocturnal mammals, armored carriers
of that age old scourge was rooting by my tree.
Back in the house and out again with light and rifle
I set out to prove I was not someone with whom to be trifled.
A shot in the dark went over his head,
caused a sudden jerk out of the bed,
he turned and glared with steely eyes
and lowered his armored head,
and charged straight at me
as though to say, 'you're going to be dead'.
With gravel flying up the drive he came
like an armored freight train.
A look in the eye such as I have never seen
determined to chase me from the scene.
The crack of the rifle, again..and then again -
and he lay where he fell...with no other sound to tell.
No more will this creature from the Mesolithic age
destroy my lawn, but if truth be known;
where there is one......another on his own, soon will come.
Copyright © Richard Moriarty | Year Posted 2011
you are my amorous armadillo
you reflect in the clouds that billow,
and when i am lonely
i think of you only
and whisper your name on my pillow!
Copyright © bill frew | Year Posted 2010
Desert dust devils reign supreme
Swirling in conditions extreme
Dry, cracked river bed yawns wide
Depleted source long denied
Lost to his instinctive traits
He halts to sniff a draught of air
Frenzied digging does then occur
Grubbing for ants, worms or mice?
He digs a deep hole in a trice
Ground darkens to a muddy brown
The scent of water.......his home found.
Copyright © theresa stephens | Year Posted 2014
Looking under a leaf
In search of a caterpillar thief
Pinched a tomatoes cheek
Oh what a creepy creep
He's a very deliberate critter
She cried that hairy worm bit her
Said,"He'd come back to get her
And scare her baby sitter."
Her nanny saw her cryin'
Knew she wasn't lyin'
Her story there was no denyin'
That worm bit her "cheek" like a lion
If you see that herbivorous fellow
That made that tomato turn yellow
He'll be under a leafy umbrella
And as fat as an armadillo
He's a real tomato masher
A suspected garden trasher
He's wanted and needs to be captured
And sentenced to life in a pasture
an original poem by the "poemdog" Daniel Turner:)
Copyright © Daniel Turner | Year Posted 2016
She carries one of the heaviest pregnancies in the world
with more species of monkeys than any other region.
She stands huge in her territory
with a unique speech different from all others in the same domain.
Her name specially recognizes a Tree.
She directly interacts with all other tenants except two distant ones.
She’s timely scaled into three different parts
possessing water course which is the immediate younger brother to the Nile.
She’s home to the Armadillo, Tapirs, Jaguars and Pumas
and so fertile to accommodate the most dense amount of living hairs
which has secluded more than seventy groups of humans to civilization.
Her armpit once covered the Nazi’s angel of death
and her street lights shine the brightest rays of football.
In her very rich possession;
is an island with about five snakes per square mile;
is the world’s best beach in Baia do Sancho;
is the accumulation of Airports; second only to the world's power;
and the city painted with heavy congestion to reach global peak in recent times.
Her neck houses the biggest black settlement outside the dark continent.
She carries a slogan of hope in “ordem e progresso”.
The aerial view plane structure of her heart
required three years and five months only to make it a possible existence.
She had graced the only European capital away from Europe
as number is her meeting point between global size and population.
The glory of her international significance is well deserved
and her beauty, nowhere near expiry.
Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2015
Flowers that are kept with care
So ugly creature
Copyright © Sara Kendrick | Year Posted 2009
Trees still shade the road
where Gramps and I once rode
in his old green car -- I drove --
on dusky early evenings
in my fifteenth year.
We stopped, as he insisted, at every spot
where an armadillo scratched
among the tender greenery
I was dispatched,
with Gramps' strong wood cane,
to kill a pesky armored creature
by striking hard, once, upon its snout.
Gramps waited in the car,
called encouragement or condemnation:
"That's it! Hit him hard!" or
"Can't you do a damn thing right?"
He knew I didn't like to kill
but was determined to toughen up
That hard old man was not accustomed
to being crossed or contradicted.
But part of him was tender,
and he had a sense of what was right
in the bayou country of his day.
How could I tell him that I hated
killing just to please him?
Often, I killed, then killed again,
although, at times, I'd miss the snout
or be slow to follow up,
and permit an armadillo to escape.
Sometimes, I'd temper force with moderation --
I'd stun the creature, grab the tail,
fling it far into dense bushes
to revive and live another day.
My grandfather eyed me darkly then,
but often kept his peace.
He gave me the treatment
I gave those stunned armadillos.
Could he have felt the same
toward me as I toward them?
Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore | Year Posted 2011
A hot breeze blew the other day, as the Chipmunk Kid rode into Troll Lake Town.
He rode on the oldest, slowest steed, that I had ever seen, a Snail called Abilene.
He came a packing, with a six shooter acorn gun, riding low, for an easy draw.
Armadillo Billy The Sling Shot Kidster, was his intended target, you know, y’all.
Sheriff Bunny Garrett said, he’d shot Billy down, but the word had gotten round.
Billy was alive and in our town, so The Chipmunk Kid wanted him found, right now!
A meaner glare, had never been seen, as it slowly moved, around our town. Tho…
Something seemed amiss; perhaps it was his crossed eyes, and petulant frown.
Climbing down from his stead, he landed face down, in the snail slime of his stead,
On that fateful day, Billy solemnly shook his head, at the craziness of this strange Kid.
The Chipmunk Kid had moxie, but little else of praise or glory, I can honestly say.
For when we told him Billy was here, The Chipmunk Kid, then fainted straight away.
Not to mention, his snail stead, old Abilene, shied away, when this happened, too.
Now, he could have grabbed the reigns, for Abilene had only moved, an inch or two.
But the Chipmunk Kid was a bit flighty, you see, as he took his lasso from his side.
Before he was done he’d tied himself up, and Dear old Billy, couldn't help but smile.
Armadillo Billy knew he’d won in that minute, not having to fire a single slingshot.
That’s how, it should be done, he knew, after seeing what the Kid had wrought.
He was happy, to just once see, ALL come out alive, still knowing that he had won.
They became fast friends, with time, as he taught The Kid the true meaning, of life.
They had lots of time, you know, as Abilene, couldn't seem to make it out of town.
Poor old Abilene was winded, from extended travel to find our beloved, little town.
It turned out; he wasn't a snail after all, just a very confused and ancient old slug.
So, as you might have guessed, we did naturally make room, as we usually do…
Yes, for the illustrious Chipmunk Kid, and Abilene, his dear old slug.
Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2013
Japanese Beetles grub gone
One good trait check
Copyright © Sara Kendrick | Year Posted 2009
Dead armadillo on the road
It bodes unwell
Two vultures attending
Copyright © Nola Perez | Year Posted 2014
Waddles into garden ...
Sweet potatoes gone
Copyright © Sara Kendrick | Year Posted 2011
Dust devils harass the ground,
Sweeping up accessible layers of earth
Stagnantly rooted in their stake
Of vast uncaring land along train tracks in the desert.
The wind-born dirt
Whisks against calloused surfaces
Of metal things carelessly left
On the dry earth of the forgotten South Forty.
A bucket, a barrel,
A ‘40 Ford Coupe left to die of rust;
An armadillo on the edge of a highway.
Flakes of faded iron skin litter the dust
Like dead leaves on the linoleum
Of a kitchen covered by sagging, burnt shingles.
Copyright © Evan Bradfield | Year Posted 2015
They came in the night
Nocturnal mammals plying their trade
Armored carriers of an age old scourge
A modern day version of a creature from a Mesolithic age
Rooting in the soil for their tasty grubs and morsels.
Leaving behind holes in the lawns and uprooted fresh planted beds.
A total destruction of a days labor in the garden.
Anger arises from the waste and want of the destroyed beauty
A plan, a trap for these ancient creatures cunningly devised.
Arising in the night,
Waiting with gun and light
Ever vigilant for the coming of these armored destroyers
Waiting, waiting, as the day begins to break,
But not to be seen after a long night through
Bleary eyed, and exhausted from a sleepless night.
Another day, another night, a new plan to be devised
To see if they come,
Seeking the tasty grubs lying beneath freshly planted beauties.
A combat to be waged with these armored creatures of old.
A test of wills to see who will win out.
Copyright © Richard Moriarty | Year Posted 2011
Armor placed upon a knighted
Rat, defender of the gold, not the
Man whose crown adorns it.
Addled pretender to the throne,
Dunce, in hidden jesters robe
Ill bred, ill tempered,
Lothario, pompous preening,
Lecherous serpent seeking
Only the safety of self.
For PD’s contest
Acrostic Time #1
Copyright © John lawless | Year Posted 2014
(With apologies to Robert Frost)
Four feet to the sky, he lay
in an attitude of surrender
confessing his sins
of hunger, of greed
of slavery to his quest
for surprise, for enchantment
around the next bend.
The Armadillo found
that life sometimes slings
death and destruction
and the road not taken
would have been the right one
had he known.
Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2014
In his protective thick shell
Holds not a candle
To the armor protection
Built around his emotions
Holds not a candle:
To compare badly to a know authority_to be unfit even to hold a subordinate position..
Apprentices used to be expected to hold the candle so that more experienced workmen were able to see what they were doing..
Copyright © Sara Kendrick | Year Posted 2012