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Best Baboon Poems | Poetry

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

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New Baboon Poems

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

Birthday gift from Baboon by Ochwo-Oburu, Solomon
A Baboon Bummer by Dietrich, Andrea
Baboon by Alhemaidy, Abdullah
Baboon Face by Alhemaidy, Abdullah
The Baboon by Alhemaidy, Abdullah
A Filthy Rich Baboon by Ellison, Jack
Kola ate a baboon by CHAKRABARTY, RAJAT KANTI
Baabo and Baboon by Yassin, Sallam
Baboon by horne, jack
Baboon Wisdom by Debrosse, Justin

View all new Baboon Poems

The Best Baboon Poems

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Pink Skies


I desire a beautiful sky.
One to inhale with my big brown eyes.
Fly like a kite, 
under the midday light.
Join me in this lollipop fight.
Till we say Goodnight.

Let's sit on the floor Indian style.
Passing around the same smile.
Holding each other by the wing.
As we take a puff and sing,
a song about: Poppies and Mushrooms,
Lets hold hands and enjoy the fumes.

I rub my bare body with poison ivy.
A poisonous Vera, deep aloe skin deep 
I enjoy the penetration under my earthly skin.
With the goodness of a sneeze that feels like a sin.
With Poppies and Mushrooms,
my hair I groom.
An inviolate flight on acid.
Skinny dipping in the calmness placid. 

I want to touch that elephant in the sky.
Before the illusion vanishes before my eyes.
Pink clouds and fluffy marshmallows.
Purple kittens and rainbow shadows.

Liquid bamboo, and poppies too.
Cocoa mushrooms, to get rid of the flu.
Poppies and Mushrooms, in a jungle beat.
Down my legs, like a dog in rut.
Poppies and mushrooms, and a giant balloon.
Pop one for me, and act like a baboon.
Walk with me across this gingerbread bridge.
Let's use up all the cake in the fridge.

Graffiti and skittles, 
While I sing "Hey Diddle Diddle."
Lets follow the unicorn, with green feet.
Poppies and Mushrooms ever so sweet.
Here Kitty Kitty, feel my heart pulse.
Hear me meow and tweet tweet tweet.
Kool-Aid and Hawaiian punch for lunch. 
How about some orange Captain Crunch.

Poppies and Mushrooms, from the sky I fell.
Footsteps down the yellow belly tripping trail.
Skip to my Lou, it's time to swallow another pink pill.
And sing me this song, where all these illusions are real. 


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2011

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There was a baboon in my bed,
I thought it appeared to be dead,
So I turned out the light,
But it chattered all night
And swung off the curtains instead.

For PD’s Silly poem contest

Copyright © jack horne | Year Posted 2013

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My Dearest Bertha baboon I’ve recently joined your baboon troop and Bertha you’re the star of the group I’ve watched you swinging in the trees Your agility brings me to my knees You sit by my side and pick off my lice we share those nits; oh they taste so nice! ‘The Funky Gibbon’ is my favourite song I taught you the words, now you sing along! There’s been no monkey business, although I’ve tried But my attraction for you cannot be denied My desire for you I cannot let pass … I’m captivated by your huge red ***! Its red colour means you’re due for ovulation Lets get it on and increase the baboon population! Love letter Contest Sponsored by Viv Wigley Contest rules - "A love letter, but NOT from a human or to a human. It must be from any other species, either to a member of the same species or maybe a different one" 10-30-17

Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2017

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I Wish That I Was

I wish that I was a baboon

to make all the lady apes swoon.

On my chest I would pound.

Then I’d strut all around,

drop my pants, and show them my moon.

For Viv Wigley's "I wish I was" Poetry Contest

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2018

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Ka-thump-a-loon, my pet raccoon,
sings opera in the woods at noon;
I love so much to hear him croon.
At night he carols to the moon.

If you are lucky you might hear
the songs he sings most loud and clear;
he plans to make it his career
with performances both far and near.

He will audition sometime soon,
accompanied by his pal baboon
who plays a really mean bassoon;
I know they'll make the critics swoon.

I guess I'll have to go along
and keep long lists of all his songs
and iron his wardrobe of sarongs,
protect him from the cheering throngs.

He seems excited, that's for sure;
he never has been too demure.
He keeps asking for a new coiffure,
a glitter mani- and pedicure.

Last night that crazy old raccoon
sucked on a helium balloon
and ate way too much crab Rangoon,
said he planned to change his tune.

He switched his genre to rock and roll,
thinks he can sing with a lot of soul;
winning American Idol his one goal
with its million dollar prize bankroll.

Things are getting out of hand;
the raccoon's plans are just too grand;
I wish he'd join the forest band
and forget this superstar status plan.

Success can never come too soon
to a want-to-be Las Vegas tycoon
who dreams of a big penthouse saloon,
Ka-thump-a-loon, my pet raccoon.

Faye Lanham Gibson
Copyright, August 18, 2015

Copyright © Faye Gibson | Year Posted 2015

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This ones for the gals

What gospels on sunday afternoon
Are four quarters male members tune
With flat screens on wall?
The chair-men want football
And shall yell like a wild baboon

Author's note: This poem was inspired by Lori Hopkin's "This ones for the guys" which is worth a good look.  My apologies to all baboons who are much gentler and finer than I.  Sad to resort to using their species as a stereotype just for the sake of a rhyme.

Copyright © Duke Beaufort | Year Posted 2012

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My Africa

A dusty street, commuters meet
A taxi crowded, a route decided
Street vendors sell, plastic from China
Fresh fruit, dead meat, flies from hell
A cellphone rings, a message pings
Africa, my Africa, I know so well
Populations swell, polluted wells
Children dying, old man crying
Nobody cares, everyone stares
Gold, coal, a bloody diamond
Everything's traded, lives degraded
Africa, my Africa, I know so well
Guns blazing, wars a raging
No rain, no grain, population with hunger pain
Wilderness retreats where humans meet
Malaria, mosquito born hysteria
Hyena calls, a lion roars
Africa, my Africa, I know so well
Witchdoctor belief, the mans a thief
Muti making, money taken, knuckle bones shaken,
Throw the bones, skinny man quaking
Superstitious dread, powdered vultures head
Goats throat cut, ancestor pleasing
Africa, my Africa, I know so well
Habitats shrinking, a duiker drinking
Rhino horn, elephants tusk, money lust
Charcoal making, our forests forsaken
Aids, ebola, a broken molar
Africa dying, nobody crying
Africa, my Africa, I know so well
Dictator for life, a stupid wife
Life is cheap, broken bodies in a heap
A leopard coughs, a baboon bark
Gangsters fighting, drug addicts scoring
Corruption, consumption, businessmen laughing
Africa, my Africa, I know so well
The rains have come, a cowhide drum
Wildebeest mating, zebra migrating
The grass is green, landscape clean
Thunder clap, lighting strike, a stole bike
People sowing, maize a growing
Africa, my Africa, I know so well
Choking dust, untamed lust
Political lies, rugby tries, meaty pies
Little round huts, kids in the dust
Fat cows, little black pigs, a cockerel crowing
Turtle dove calling, a blood red morning
Africa, my Africa, I know so well

Copyright © John birch | Year Posted 2016

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Shootin' Pool On CD

At the local bar one friday night, we were shootin' pool and getting tight,
Just havin' fun in the neon light, yea, everything was cool, out a sight!
Now I've played pool for years on end, my stick play is cool, sometimes I win,
With 2 balls down, I still played the same, I'd bought the last round and hadn't won a game,

Yea, this luck of mine sure seemed strange, Ol' Biggin' shot fine, as the eight ball remained,
As he walked to the table to shoot the eight ball, his win was probable, as he made his call:
"Eight ball in the side chump!!"...Ole Biggin' did say,
While my throat became a lump, as he cued his play,

Then the shot went to pocket the eight, and I couldn't believe what I saw,
Ol' Biggin' blocked his scratch on the eight, yea, didn't let the cue ball fall,
So I told him: "That sure is Jive!" as he stood and stared at me,
His eyes looked like he was fried, and Ol' Biggin' stood 6 foot 3,

Then he called me a geek! so I called him a goon! and so to speak......a Big baboon!
When he called me a fool! I called him a twerp! and that snatched his cool! so he snatched
my shirt,
What happened next was my surprise! Ole Biggin' landed left, right between my eyes!
And I hit the floor so slack!  Yea! Biggin' tore the shirt right off my back!

And I felt the swelling layin' on the floor, with Ol' Biggin' yellin' and wantin' more!
So as I was getting up and could hardly see! I swung an upper cut,you know where that
might be!!!
Uh! Huh! you're right...but is it cruel? when he turned out my light and snatched my cool,
So should the moral of the story go like this?: "Don't play pool if it' pool like his"  Or:
"If you play pool....It's just another game of: Don't snatch that cool!"

Copyright © Lawrence Ingle | Year Posted 2008

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A Baboon With a Bassoon

I knew a baboon. He had a bassoon. The baboon tried to play the bassoon. The baboon who tried to play the bassoon could not hold a tune. The baboon with the bassoon could not hold a tune under the moon. The baboon tried to play the bassoon but could not hold a tune under the moon in June. The baboon who tried to play the bassoon without holding a tune under the moon in June knew a raccoon. This raccoon who knew the baboon who could not play the bassoon with a tune under the moon in June had a friend who was a loon. The loon told the raccoon who knew the baboon who tried to play the bassoon with a tune under the moon in June: Give it up you guys!

Copyright © Robert Pettit | Year Posted 2012

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Miracles Happen To and In June

There once was a gal name of June.
Who wanted to kiss and to spoon.
  She made a big splatter
  falling off a tall ladder.
 When she married the man in the moon.

Her wedding of course was in June.
She wanted to marry him soon..
   She started to chatter
   but that didn't matter.
Their life was so much a cartoon.

The man in the moon liked to croon.
He liked to sing songs about June.
   But nothing was sadder
   when he made her madder.
Singing not of "June" but of June.

To get on her good side Old Lune.
Flew June to the moon via balloon.
  But she was much fatter
  and emptied her bladder.
Now he looked like a baboon.
To end this wild tale about June.
Know the man in the moon made her swoon
    He heard her feet patter
    when she mixed cake batter.
Turning into butterfly from cocoon.

Copyright © Marty Owens | Year Posted 2012

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A Filthy Rich Baboon

At the drop of a hat, your life could change If you win the big jackpot of ten million You'd have all the things you've ever wished for And every day would be bright vermillion With money to burn the world would be yours You'd have nothing to hold you back You could live like a king, demand anything There'd be absolutely nothing you'd lack Do you think you'd be the same sweet person Or would money change who you are Wouldn't mind finding out to tell the truth Think I'd find the whole thing quite bizarre Like to think I'd remain the same person With both feet firmly planted on the ground But money can change a person's perspective And your whole life can turn upside down Sure like to know how money would affect me Would I become this financial tycoon It really could swing either way I imagine Could wind up just a filthy rich baboon © Jack Ellison 2015

Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2015

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the Zany Zoo

The awakening of the dawn like a butterfly busting through the cocoon.
The rhino's thyroid condition was exacerbated as the cheetah conflict 
As I drank in and tasted the coolness of the water, 
my eyes gazed upon the crocodile's welcoming smile, 
the caption was split apart by the hyena's maniacal laughter,
As I breathed in the heinous adventure,
man what I would do for a cliff bar!
Billy Roberts from Germantown Pennsylvania, you are the planner of my trips 
no longer.
I'm immersed in the baboon conflict much,
Cheetah's are too anxious and scared'
those crazy colored monkeys,
Always be constantly straight trippin,
I suppose its time to go snatch up a snow cone,
At least then i'll be heated up,
Suppose I'll meander down yonder over in the holler,
the Zoo will be closing soon,
Why is this peacock making a bead-line for me?
Get hence from me you beastly bird!
You Great White, who's sensed the blood in the water,
the kids are all laughing at me, 
As I hang clumsily from this tree,
Screaming shrill and hoarsely for someone to come and save me, 
I enmesh myself and become one with the tree,
Ya that's right devil-bird! walk away!
that's why they call me lizard lips,
I can hide from anything,
Wednesday will be my greatest day,
because it begins in W and ends in Y, 
As I take in a deep relaxed breath and pinch my leg until my eyes begin to 
adjust again,
The Bronx Zoo is no bueno,
Asta la Vista you toothy baboons

Copyright © stephen piercey | Year Posted 2014

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Brown Shoes

Do you ever feel like the world's a tuxedo And you're a pair of brown shoes? Have you ever felt you had two left feet? Or the ship's already left for the cruise? Please take heart, we've all been afflicted At one time or another in our lives There are those who appear a lot worse off They forget to wear pants when they drive There ain't no cure for this strange affliction Embarrassing as hell, heaven knows Walking across the floor at the prom With your dress tucked up in your hose Out for a walk, met my cranky old boss He was taking his dog for a stroll Chatted and then after saying good luck Turned and smacked into a pole Or when you attend a Halloween party You're the only one dressed up in the room Then you realize it was a black tie affair But you're dressed like a pregnant baboon Just dig a deep hole and climb down inside Hope nobody notices you're gone Don't come out until four in the morning Slink home by the first light of dawn © Jack Ellison 2012

Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2013

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The Namib

If your love was like the Namib;
Mountainous and bare,
Would you dig deep for water?
Would you scour the ridged crevasses there?
For something that moved,
Within and without,
Trying to remove, any and all doubt.

If your love was a deserted plain;
Parched and dying,
Would you search in vain –?
Weather-worn, beaten, sand-blast hewn;
Pecked by vultures – circling,
Stung by bees – swarming,
Gouged by the horns of a great Wildebeest;
Devoured in the jaws of a mighty hyena,
cackling, with delighted spite at your plight.

If your love was arid;
barely breathing,
Would you imagine
A mirage of pelicans, seething,
Pink to the horizon, hungry and feeding.
Could you still dance to the silvery moon,
Sway and kiss the Milky Way, and swoon.
Could you make a sand castle stick;
Or would it fall through your fingers –
Quicker than quick.

If your love was a desert;
Would you hide like an ostrich, in fright
Or, chatter like a baboon,
through the night
Would you roar like a leopard
Looking for it’s spots
Or fight like a lizard
who knows what’s what?

If -
Your -
Love -
Was -
Desert -
Cast in Stone.
Designed to destroy;

Would you lay down on the scorching sand; 
To wither and die.
Or mutate to survive – why?
Would three raindrops;
Dew-soft and honey-sweet
licked from your skin
Make a river that flows, 
wide, wider and thin

If your love was brittle and dry;
Would several clouds in a clear bright sky,
Make you cry, allay your fears,
Or bring you to your knees.
Would you rest on a rock to renew your will,
Would emptiness give you impetus to fill?
If the suffocating heat of relentless rejection;
Stifled your breath,
Would your mind be plotting,
an early death?
Would you quiver like a zebra,
Stampede like an ox,
Sting like the scorpions tail in a knot?

Or - would you 
Soar away like an eagle –
across the skies;
Coo, coo as a dove perched on high.
Find an oasis calm and green,
And squat like a quail, soft and unseen.

Think about life, and it’s true meaning.
Be still, patient, accept;
That glorious seeing.
An open field;
flower-filled and breathing.
Life lived in a reality of beauty and feeling;
Hung out boldly with the stars,
for the dreaming.

Forget about love;
lost in the desert;
The impressions and depressions,
of the changing landscape.
Blood, shed from wounds;
in the Valley of Death,
The fire ants have taken,
to their beds.

Copyright © Judith Palmer | Year Posted 2010

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i've taken up drinking.
talking to a wall.
a wall of confusions.
in depth analyzation. 
the word 
of the day
of blight.
a worldly
she sits 
in one spot
gladly staring
into a face
a face
a face
the face
with mouth.
with mystery


long gone.
it is like?
why not?
why so?
why anyway?
the face replies
showing her 
and assemblage
she thought she had,
but inferiority
takes over
like a raging
over her young.
her young.
their youth
the youth
of questions
and no answers
the youth of mirrors
the face
the ***

she too
like me
will take up drinking
away from
confused questions
questions not even
a language vacation.

start with an
she ponders
an adjective
a simili of nouns
[auto correct
correcting her
created words.
the fascism!]
going over
the past before
the word
of written
a word? 
a word.
!!!!! flee !!!!!!!!!
she flew
into a word

Copyright © Amra Cau | Year Posted 2013

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On a Black Day - Death Survives - Series 3

Another boring, Protestant Traditional, Sunday Family Dinner 1:00 pm sharp
This week it’s at Uncle David’s  house in Alford, Mass. I haven’t meant Him
Actually the only Family I met so far “Momma“, Poppa, and Big Sister Brenda 
YOU probably thought I was going to say “Momma, Poppa, and Baby Bear
Went for a walk in the forest“. Sorry I’m reading Goldilocks while I’m trying to Write
Brenda ( B B ) , and I use to wonder why they had to be called Momma and Poppa ?!! 
Pizza for dinner, on a Saturday night ,Baths, pajamas, robes, and slippers out to the car
Alright kids, It’s a 3 hour drive to Uncle Dave’s Let’s play “Grandma’s Suitcase” 
The subject Grandma is infatuated with is her : LOVE of Animals
Harry you start, Grandma went on a vacation , in her suitcase she put an alligator
Brenda, “Grandma went on a vacation, in her suitcase she puts a female Baboon 
“Poppa, it’s your turn, “Grandma went a vacation, in her Suitcase she put a Catamount
I challenge You  Poppa, Mount is Mountain ,not Animal  I brought my dictionary, Read;
The definition of catamount; a mountain lion, Cougar  A feline animal born in nature
Harry your out of the game; “Momma” Your turn “ Grandma put in her suitcase The Devil”

Copyright © HGarvey Daniel Esquire | Year Posted 2012

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Born With A Bent Silver Spoon

I'm in fine form on this sunny afternoon Feel like frolicking like a silly baboon What's strange about that Quite normal for this brat Brought into this world with a bent silver spoon © Jack Ellison 2015

Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2015

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Under my 8 year old Brothers Bed

Under my 8 year old brothers bed
lies my dog chewed Barbie, no sign of her head
a faded Snoopy cartoon, deflated yellow Birthday balloon
and one stuffed zoo animal baboon
Romote toy car from Uncle Tom
Cassette of Raffi, sing-a-long songs
half a fruit roll-up, and a beat up
tonka truck

A wooden dream catcher, made in Summer camp
his moon and star shaped night lamp
one lonely brown button from his Winter coat
A crumpled crayon castle drawing, complete with
an alligator filled moat
A real rabbits foot, for luck, from Grandpa Mack
half a fourth of July sparkler, old fashioned box of jacks
glass jelly jars of grass, sticks, leaves, assorted bugs
science fair worm farm living in moms old Garden jug

Under my 8 year old brothers bed
it has to be said, if you find yourself lost 
beneath it
you are as good
as dead!

Copyright © Heather Hill | Year Posted 2010

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Baabo and Baboon

Story of ancient
In lips of current
In a town of Baabo
The king was Baabo
In those times as vast as they can go
And as longest as they can know
In Exploitation flash and bones
The people
And every wealth is for Bbaabo
The peasant in one law of Baabo
Should give the whole owns to baabo

And every bride in very first night
Was in his will
The fount- babe for Baabo
And the whole first week
By law of Baabo
She was for Baabo
And no smiles and every cry
But only for please of Baabo
Ruthless and hardship how to appease him

Baabo rose in his care son of sheepherder
Who he killed and took his wife in hold
The lad nicknamed by funny monkey
As he charmed
The King- Baabo
He was always with him
To Make him smile
And he calls the lad monkey - the son
And he was as known the only son of Baabo
But no hope by tutoring of Baabo
To make Monkey a good man for state

The king of shadows then had a dream
In nightmare of nights
He seen a Baboon old
The wise tells him
Your days end is in last
And in line
In hands of my son this fall
He never doubt that Baboon is king of rivals of Mountains

In that last days of fall
His son is always out of sight
He sent his eyes spy out to search and watch
Where his son wanders out
And why doesn’t keep his company warm

And they saw him with maid young and in her charm
He calls her Barni and he was in her love
He asked oh - the monkey going to be a man
But he knew the first night is mine
So let for nigh of wedding and prepare for the night
But monkey knew
The slew of his father
And knows
Barni only for him and the days he wait- came
As the nation needs a leader not Baabo
So he prepared his dagger
And he asked his Barni
To prepare the bed and pass
To river bank of Baboons
And wait
And if doesn’t come by mid of night
She should carry in run and pass
And he prepared his kinsmen
For attack of night
And by mid of night the Baabo had come drunk
As a snake in creeping to cave
As came to bed the dagger of monkey is waiting the Baabo in dark
And he put it in his darkest in heart
And as he bleeds in bed sheets white
In his moan last ask the[ Baboon]- your father
And you killed me- monkey
And no funny in that
So the moon came pink at that night
And the water of river purple as wine came
And the night was the Barni’s and Baboon’s
And no more the village is Baabo’s
But for people of Baboons
And people live in there’s
In fair's life and finest last 

Copyright © Sallam Yassin | Year Posted 2014

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A clever robot

He has created a clever robot
He orders it and it responds

“Write for me a poem”, it does
“Compose for me love letter”, it does
“Scribble for me an abuse”, it does

Clever and obedient the robot is
But one thing it cannot do
Feel emotions as human beings

The clever robot the merchant abused
“You are foolish”, it replies, “Thank you”
“You’re a baboon”, it replies, “Thank you”
“You’re a nothing”, it replies, “Thank you”

Clever and obedient the robot is
But one thing it cannot achieve-
Feel emotions as human beings

That day man will make a robot
One that can feel emotional
The one with personality traits
Humans will hide in wardrobes

Copyright © Solomon Ochwo-Oburu | Year Posted 2018

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A Comic Strip Cartoon

    One day in mid June, in far off Rangoon.
    The hand drawn baboon, a comic cartoon,
    Was flown to the moon, by hot air balloon.
    Then late afternoon, while in his pontoon.
    A massive monsoon, blew like a typhoon.
    He fired his harpoon, what's next! sometime soon.

    4/ 28/ 2017.

    ( The last adventure of baboon continued )

    With Mayday maroon, tied to his galoon
    He ditched his cardoon, but ate the dried prune.
    It was oppotune, with some good fortune.
    He missed a sand dune, and surfed the lagoon.
    Then with a soup spoon, rowed home to Cancun.
    He now plays basoon, in some old saloon.

    This was added after the contest was judged.
    The first of May twenty seventeen.

Copyright © george seal | Year Posted 2017

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Hospital Bed

Hospital Bed

You lay there on the hospital bed
Looks, begging at me
Shaved head, white face
Tubes with fluid from your brain

My first, my kindest, most verbal
Unable to move, to speak
Dear God, I would tear down heaven
Raise up hell, to help, to fix

You came back to us,
A hard road travelled by you
Courage and will ablaze
And now you, a professor in brains

Your Disney baboon, I bought you
Whose arms could hold you when I couldn’t
Sitting on my desk now, can’t believe
The memories held in fluff

A hand upon your brow, cool lathe
Your angel came to see you
Told you, all would be well, no matter
Had a beautiful smile you said

I believe in miracles
Eternal, unknowable, infinite love
 “Dad, don’t sweat the small stuff” ,you said
Know what ? - gets truer every day.

J Paul Kennedy

Copyright © J Paul Kennedy | Year Posted 2015

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Dear Miss Monkey Manners II

Dear Miss Monkey Manners, I hope that you can solve a problem for an old baboon,
I’ve said some things to a dear friend of mine and it makes me feel like I’m a buffoon.
I said that, “God created Charles Darwin because he was so disappointed in monkeys.”
How was I to know when I spoke that he and Darwin’s uncle were at one time bunkies?
I only meant it as a passing humor aimed at pointing out our man like flaws,
I didn’t know that this friend and Charles Darwin shared the same grandpas?
Anyway, now he’s mad at me and called me a bigot so now I need a plan,
I want to show him, that except for their smell, there’s nothing I hold against man?
But if he doesn’t get over it pretty quickly and take that chimp from off his shoulder,
I’m going to get sick of his blue butt attitude and kick him in his banana holder.

My Dear and Gentle Monkey “Man”, I think that the time has come for action,
A stinging shot to his low land region might give us both great satisfaction.
This baboon friend of yours is a member of a new and obnoxious breed,
We must be rid of him and his ilk before political correctness plants a seed.
When the time comes that we can’t make a joke about how man came from we apes,
Is the same time that a never ending stream of flying monkeys from my butt escapes.
Don’t you dare offer up a single syllable of a word aimed at reconciliation.
To make a slam of the works of man is the hallmark of simian civilization.
Instead, the next time you see a group of men walking through your forest setting,
Dare your misguided chum to go up and talk to them, he’ll swing away I’m betting.
There is only one thing more distasteful to me than the babblings of a liberal Baboon,
And that’s one who, when forced to face his own convictions, babbles a different tune.

Copyright © Tony Lane | Year Posted 2011

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Crazy Animals -Abecedarian-

A Baboon Cleans Dandruff Entirely From Gigantic Hairy Iguana Just Kicked Low Monkey Never Opened Pants Quickly Runs Sighting Trunks Under Vest Wearing Xylophone Yelling Zebra. Copyright © Cynthia Jones Sept.25/2004 My gawd, this one is stupid.

Copyright © Cynthia Jones | Year Posted 2015

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It's Love I Suppose So

 {For Nelson and Winnie Mandela}
 You, me said I to my honey bitter
 When like the windy aether,
 Blows us hither and thither
 Bursting bubbles on elevating air,
 I shall sleep dreaming with one eye open
 Set you and I free on a chilly rest,
 Virtually recalling the immure moments
 I shall tell you of inborn pain.

 Hence, that in these moments, hours
 Days running in weeks, months into years
 And coming to these moments,

 It's love I suppose so
 That I should be waiting, waiting and waiting
 For you on this thing that like the windy aether,
 Has blown away, blown away till this moments.
 I shall sleep through to another day
 Because of you, I and the offspring
 And watch you through, though my heart is spilling
 Could it be my strength has withered?
 Or my agility has disappeared?
 So when the night comes to eyes
 And the silence deafened ears
 In those moments, hours, days, weeks and months
 And the years, O the years!
 Which I have slept through just remembering you.

 I have looked your face through,
 When you are slumbering, thinking silently
 Of your vanity, tells of enchantment saliently.

 Let us lay on the lawn
 And make sweater nothing of love,
 Let us float upwelling in delight for the ocean,
 And make sea-wine sip among arteries rejecting behoove.

 It is love I suppose so
 That I should be waiting,waiting and waiting,
 For you on this thing that like the windy aether
 Has blown away, blown away till these moments,
 And you insinuate without times, whether
 That ours prophesy shakable love lust,
 It has not gone through the last
 Of consent; well, it's all sentimental
 Even though, I have gone and mount the pedestal
 Like the Baboon drumming
 Out his chest so loud;
 My head had gone white shouting so loud
 And the children care clamoured for
 My greater loftier ladder,
 Aged head has gone white like cloud.
 You would say then, I have waited for ages,
 I have trimmed the lamp for ages
 I have fumbled with the candle for long;
 But then flop;
 Fell out of one uniting rope
 I went so far flung,
 Even though thinking of you then
 As I now thinking of you so,
 And you have on, on and on thinking then
 I would wait for you so.

Copyright © Afolabi Taiwo | Year Posted 2011