Best Camel Poems | Poetry
Below are the all-time best Camel poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of camel poems written by PoetrySoup members
Search for Camel poems, articles about Camel poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Camel poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.
New Camel Poems
Don't stop! The most popular and best Camel poems are below this new poems list.
A Camel in Egypt with Mumps
by Wolf, Gershon
by Gupta, Probir
Still Riding My Camel
by Ellison, Jack
by Connell, Carol
A Camel A Crocodile And A Lama
by Shaw, Indiana
Taking My Camel to Town
by Robinson Jr., Freddie
by Price, Franklin
Ma Bitches - The Camel And Me
by Shaw, Indiana
My Imaginary Camel and Me
by Shaw, Indiana
To a camel
by Lamoureux, Richard
View all new Camel Poems
The Best Camel Poems
Who was that masked man?!?
Brian Williams, rides again.
He was in Amilia Earhart's plane;
even rode with the Dalton Gang.
The day the Titanic went down;
In the rescue boat when Rose was found.
He went on expeditions with Louis and Clark.
Once gave his seat to Rosa Parks.
He was actually the first man in space.
That shadow on the moon........ It's his face!
The earliest woman, they deemed to be
bones in the desert they named Lucy.
She was his niece, tho she drug her knuckles,
so he really is a monkey's uncle!
He walked miles and miles on the Trail of Tears;
wondered the desert with Hebrews for forty years.
He dated Cleopatra; drank wine with Moses;
gave the Queen of Sheba a camel and roses.
He's walked with Bigfoot in the hills;
been bitten by vampires, but magically heals.
He has had great adventures of every kind.
He's Brian Williams; a legend in his own mind.
Maybe I can be one of those news cast stars.
This is Arlene, reporting from mars........
Couldn't resist this little tribute to the wild stories of reporter Brian Williams who was fired for seemingly padding up his stories....
Copyright © Arlene Smith | Year Posted 2015
Sue’s panties gave her so much woe -
She suffered from dire ‘camel toe’
But with help from soft plastic
Her new outline’s fantastic
It’s discrete and no one would know!
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2018
Riding an elephant
Down the narrow trail looking triumphant
Scanning the golden landscape
Like Hannibal with enemies in flight
Sight from a lofty height
King of the jungle moving
With lioness by his side
Climbing Mount Kilimanjaro
Guides by my side with packs on their backs
Some paths steep with rocks
Boots slipping below our tired feet
Beautiful birds in unison flight
Moving with terrestrial light
Stunning sunlight summit on the peak
Praying in an Ethiopian Church
Preserved in rocks built by humans’ hands
Never touched by conquest plans
Protected from the invaders’ footsteps
Queen of Sheba and Solomon’s nest
Touched by Arch of the Covenant
Mary, Joseph, and Jesus once slept
Eating yam, sipping palm wine, and tasting milk
Freshly squeezed by experienced hands
Taste of life in the mosaic grassland
Sustaining and soul refreshing
Cradle of humankind adorning
Invaded for its gold, riches, and human capacity
Birth of life on earth with tenacity
Respecting its living and arduous journey
Essence of life once was and is again to come
Riding a camel across the hot Sahara sand
Once wet now dried, exported gold from Mali…
Treasures from the hearts of once African empires
That which was, is, and shall forever be
Africa the birthing Motherland
We still love and respect thee!
Seventh Place Winner
"African's Pride" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Adeleke Adeite
June 30, 2010
Copyright © Joseph Spence Sr | Year Posted 2010
(Inspired by dance steps from a belly dancing class I once took!)
She rolls her pretty head from side to side
while, raised above her face, are slim curved arms.
Brief pose. . . . She’s readied to expose her charms.
Wrists twist, and serpentine, arms downward glide.
Her undulating silk-draped hips move round.
She churns them slowly, flashing bright green eyes;
then minces “Camel Walk” to tantalize
as ankle bracelets make a tinkling sound.
With bills in hand, men beckon with a glance.
She shimmies, jingling toward them in dim light;
then spins and thrusts her pelvis right, left, right.
Seduction of delight - her belly dance.
For Barbara Gorelick's "May I Have This Dance?" Contest
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2011
We are so different
I am smart, you are less so
I am a man, you are a woman
I am trump, you are poor
I am beautiful, you live in a sewer
I have castles, you’re lucky to have drawers
I am peaceful, you are the extremist
I have armies, you have child suicide bombers
I have coffee, you have tea
See the difference between you and me?
I wear clothes under my head, you wear masks over
I sing songs in my sanctuary, while you chant the jihad
I have my god who is righteous; you have a god that sings of terror
My god is great, yours is a fraud
I ride in a limo, you ride a gay camel
I drink fine whiskey, you smoke camel fags
We you see… are as different
As night is to day
As sun is to moon
As Cain is to Abel
I own the castle you live in the stable
Goats and hogs your only staple
Now when we were in the hospital
Me so much better than you, you see
Both our sons sick of leukemia
You being so different and less than me
You cried, and you wept, and you wished yourself dead
If your child should live, you'd give all you ever had
Its then I saw, I’d do exactly the same
When you offered me a tissue
I confess I felt a wee little shame
Whatever hate you may or may not have had
Lifted, when you saw the child was your only lad
And when I saw this humble startling revelation
I realized how narrow and condescending I was behaving
So maybe we both learned a lesson of Job
A pity such sadness and pain had to bring
The realization to us both
We are not so different after all
We now drink tea in the olive gardens
Telling the young if they chose to listen
There is a better path, of happier wisdom
By embracing your fellow man
No matter race, color or convictions
Start with a smile
Make it last more than a mile
Great things happen
When us, the people take action
Of this world
Thank you Charmaine for the constant inspiration!
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016
A stairway of tinted boulders reveals
The fable of old gods marking a past,
Etched on tall red-stones divinely claimed…
And as I ascend to touch a warm glow,
My feet quiver among hallowed mounds
Of blazing rocks, of sacred pillars.
In awe, I listen to Jordan’s songs
As one city’s heart flames through Siq winds
Humming through early noon’s desert trail
Which climb inside my pulsed breath…until
Tears stumble into a warm prayer
On a rosy frame of blest temples.
Journeying to Petra silences me,
From tribal gems and inlay jars soaked in moonlit dust
To camel rides with Beduoins exploring a grandeur
I can only own within my thoughts…
For its mystique spreads on life’s essence
Where I greet the humble soul within.
Foreign Travel Contest
For Thvia Shetley
City of Petra, Jordan-- one of the 7 wonders of the world
*Siq-- the entrance that lies between
Petra's red-hued mountains
Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2015
It’s been a long day beneath hot sun,
with sunset looming and daylight done,
came across water with a stand of trees,
deep in shadow with a zephyr breeze;
a perfect place to camp for the night,
joined by galahs in the fading light,
with swag rolled out near a cooking fire,
heating up a damper and then retire.
Stars like crystal light the outback sky,
way out here they don’t seem so high,
Dingoes howl beyond a red sand dune,
a mopoke hoots ‘neath a silver moon.
And through the night as I try to sleep,
the night feeders either call or creep,
could there be a pig or a kangaroo?
maybe a camel or an old emu.
Sunrise breaks on my morning camp,
The sky is lemon and leaves are damp.
I poke the ash and I grass the fire,
add kindling and the flames reach higher.
I hear the call of a warbling wren,
a butcherbird and a water hen.
There’s nothing better than bird song,
by a campfire near a billabong.
The billy boils for a cup of tea,
bacon and eggs sit upon my knee,
already the thermals are in the sky,
a wedge-tailed eagle is soaring high…
passing by with babbling words,
is a feeding family of apostle birds,
all quite content to stop for a chat,
as long as I feed them bacon fat.
Sunrise has lifted on my morning camp,
the suns’ in the sky, now nothing damp,
I roll my swag and I douse the fire,
with the campsite left as it was prior
for the budgerigar and the cockatoo,
or a flock of redrumps passing through.
I won’t see them for I’m on my way;
perhaps next year on another day.
Copyright © Lindsay Laurie | Year Posted 2015
slicked with sweat,
and hearing the locusts’ cries deep in my neck,
I stood over the remains of Sal Paradise.
The spotty grass around the tombstone
was browned and littered
with trodden Camel filters
and corroded bottle caps.
I reached into my inspired rucksack
and discovered a Deutchmark,
forgotten like a sleepy drunk at a tavern.
I ceremonially placed it on the granite-
amid the years
and a crusty half-empty whiskey bottle
a different friend had left.
I hunched over the grave,
my head bowed,
but not really praying or thinking
And now I sit across the street,
seated by the window
in a little Italian restaurant.
I am the lone customer,
ensconced by piped-in light FM muzak.
Copyright © Matt Kindelmann | Year Posted 2006
While waiting at the river Styx, in twisted time untaught,
from branches of the gallows tree, in recollections wrought,
your soul, a beggar’s blanket, hangs in crazy quilted knots,
with dangling pearls and diamond studs in dripping crimson clots,
midst gaping wounds and bulging eyes like fouling apricots,
for wrapped like rope around your throat’s the Reaper’s grim garrote.
"It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God." (Matthew 19:24)
Copyright © Terry O'Leary | Year Posted 2012
Cant lift my eyes beyond half past seven anymore
Nay! I do not wish to see...
Past hyphens and inverted commas
Lies and more catastrophe
Ambidextrous clock with appalling brevity
The second hand throws away society
Caught on the hook of an apostrophe
Hit and run humanity
With what shall I beseech thee?
Amix with soot and grime am I today
I painted me....! I mascara'd me!
Not this... warpaint for smudges
A discard of society
Sunk in dank mediocrity
Left to dream on the periphery
Sacked and sold with all their niceties
And pensioned off into obscurity
Cascading through the fingers of our hands
Groans the running Namib sands
Camel plods along ignoring facts
Dali's clock is molten wax - a mystery
Certain as Terrabyte and Megabitten memory
Omits to call- forgets to visit me
Copyright © Jannie Breedt | Year Posted 2016
Whatever turns your crank
Whatever tickles your pickle
Whatever dunks your donut
Whatever waxes your dolphin
Whatever buffs your Buddha
Whatever pops your cork
Whatever pets your monkey
Whatever frosts your cookies
Whatever spills your pills
Whatever trips your trigger
Whatever humps your camel
Whatever melts your chocolate
Whatever peels your onion
Whatever chafes your carrot
Whatever flops your mop
Whatever rocks your socks
Whatever teeters your totter
Whatever milks your goat
Whatever pings your pong
Whatever peels your banana
Whatever blows your nozzle
Whatever tips your canoe
Whatever flicks your switch
Whatever zips your zipper
Whatever blows your stack
Whatever... whatever... whatever!
© Jack Ellison 2014
Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2014
"Today you are You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is Youer than You"
I studied real hard the youness of you
I paid close attention to the things that you do
No detail too small, I even learned how you chew
I eat what you eat! I love camel stew
I walk your walk, I have your unique style
I've walked in your shoes, for many a mile
Look at my face, the twinkle in my eye
I have your mischevious look and I own your smile
But now dear friend, you are deader than dead
I'm with your lovely bride and sleeping in your bed
She thinks I'm you, because I say what you said
You at the bottom of a lake, weighted by lead
As time goes by, I'll become me-er than me
Because in the end, that's who I want to be
I hope she'll still love me, in time I will see
Being Youer than You, is the best insanity!
Written by: Richard Lamoureux
Channeling my Dark Suess!
This was a fun one Casarah.
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2015
In my hand an empty pack of camel crushes... I smoked them all.
All the pacing from the stress has beat the pavement raw.
Anger from the moments of my son I never saw.
I'm so gone.
Because I've been holding it in for way too long.
And hashtag to my haters,I will spray you all away if you try to stop me from getting my hustle on.
And I'm not Kirsten Dunst but suckas bring it on.
I'm praying that the whole world pays attention to this song.
See snow the product did it first, but see this best it spoke to me.
And said "you could write a story on how rough your life could be.
And with every verse you spit, more haters get frikazied.
That's when motivation kicked in and I began to believe.
I'll show the population that my ryhmes are mega rad.
And show the child courts I can be a good dad.
And make for certain that I get to make my baby mama mad.
Because every brother out of Gary really ain't bad.
Copyright © Julian Miles | Year Posted 2015
Why drowning when there's
the ability to swim in me?
Why sleeping in the cold woods
with a match box in my Jacket
and an Axe below my head?
Why the self condemnation
when I'm a billion miles ahead of a billion?
What exactly do I see in my inner mirror?
Is Life embracing or pointing a finger at me?
I see a pretty one of huge significance
with effective duties like an Angel.
But also, I see the ugly one
dust to sand, stone to rock
that's just its living sequel.
I view a perspective
rough but sweet; challenging but interesting
which is exactly my gospel.
But then, I see them as temptations
and tests with no ability to repel.
I notice when walking through red coals
I never let my tears be my Life's panel
but the submission of my adaptation becomes so parallel.
I'm mind blowing and noticeable
like a newly-sewed apparel.
But day and night, I posses a tag with
just one label.
No matter the task to stay beautiful
nothing stops that quest to excel
but I see a limitation to
just a specific ordered function
like the ringing bell.
I'm staying elegant and attractive
making all long to be part of my counsel
but my usefulness, worth and confidence
no self awareness to propel.
Beginning as crude
coming out as a refined Jewel
but still, reality seems so cruel.
What exactly is my mirror saying?
Is my Life that of a Damsel or a Camel?
This, I just cannot tell!
Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2014
To a two humped camel
She must seem really odd
For her humps are both displaced
on the front of her strange bod
They must throw her off balance
as she walks on just two feet
They're sure to get in the way
Whenever she try's to eat
It also seems distracting
As she goes about her day
They're bouncing bouncing bouncing
In a most peculiar way
Why are those fellows drooling
As they watch her walking by
I'm sure the two humped camel
He must be wondering why
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2016
A lipstick stained Camel butt, on the full ashtray rim
A golden earring on the floor, how does this story begin?
The Smith Corona silent, paper stuck in the machine
When someone ripped it out they left a mess to clean
An air ticket on the floor, unused it would appear
What happened to the owner something’s wrong that is clear?
A telephone receiver burring on the desktop
No one put it down, the call they didn’t stop
A tissue on the floor, all shredded up and wet
A sign of great misery, a mystery still as yet.
A newspaper screwed up and thrown upon a chair
A missing child is found, she had better get out of there.
A body found, a Camel butt by her side
The car ran off the road, what a way to die
The madam of murder and mayhem will see daylight no more
And now the devil’s a waiting to open his fiery door.
A lady looking lost, approaches a child alone
She dangles one gold earring, with a pretty stone
This is for you child if, you but come with me
Another child is missing, didn’t anybody see?
One earring, one cigarette butt, but she didn’t work alone
Her partner in crime, a woman warned her on the phone.
Destroy the ransom note the child has now been found
The ticket is now no good, we must move underground.
For those unsure and there are some, Camel are a brand of cigarette.
Copyright © Mandy Tams The Golden Girl | Year Posted 2014
we don't need materalistic things
we don't need wealth
Lord we just need you
and our health
we don't need boats or a big fast car
Lord we just need you where ever we are
we don't need fame or fortune
we don't need to be popular around our place
Lord you are all that we need
and your Grace
we dont need things that people come to steal kill and destroy
we don't need things that will wither away
for all theese things are unimporant
compared to what we share with you each and every day
our treasures are with you in heaven a great reward from you indeed
no matter what this world has to offer
Lord you're all that we need. Amen.
Luke 18 : 25 Indeed, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a
rich man to enter the kingdom of God."
Lule 12 : 31 - 34
Copyright © diane christian | Year Posted 2009
My eyes can see
That the sand is like sea
And it stretches to the end of my mind
On a ship set to sail
with four legs and a tail
Tishmandu I set out to find
Now the wind is of sand
and can lend a hand
in tearing the flesh from your bone
So your head you keep wrapped
your snaps keep snapped
and you never travel alone
The heat at midday
is to kill and waylay
if the body and soul are not one
So you pray to the east
and prepare for slim feast
begging passage under full sun
Caravan of the seed
born on camels that breed
in an endless march between wells
Over lost count of dunes
under God and full moons
blessing passage with incense and bells
At the end of the day
when gold turns to grey
and the stars brighten the skies
A device is brought forth
to determine true north
and the path where Tishmandu lies
On the fortieth morn
pressing lips to the horn
a signal beckons us wake
Leaving water behind
on a course now refined
the final leagues we must take
Tishmandu is a place
where a white mans face
has never been seen or allowed
But the people have need
and my service agreed
in a land under sky without cloud
Like feathers of blue
in the distance I view
the flags on top of the walls
Though my limbs are worn
my very fabric is torn
I move towards Tishmandu halls
At last in the shade
a walled shelter is bade
I meet with the maker of rules
A service I bring
but to rules I must cling
or a tortures price must be paid
Twenty days and seven
in the passes of heaven
I treated the sick and the lame
With rules on my mind
the medicines I grind
The devil of Tish for to tame
As I washed the sick
and avoided blunt stick
the God of the desert did smile
For the people made well
in this fortified hell
where spirit is subject to trial
In the end I am paid
for the journey I made
and the healing and medicine new
On my camel back
salted meats in my pack
I Bid farewell to Tishmandu
Copyright © Ray Mattos | Year Posted 2011
Walk everywhere. Go on long sea voyages;
Ask for days like symphonies of slow music,
banks of blue flowers to wrap you in the moment.
Become immersed in watching clouds
spiders building their webs.
Travel by the slowest modes of transport.
Ride a camel, camp out in the desert.
Move into a museum and declare it real time.
Dress in a crinoline. Decorate your room with
fossils. Read endless books- make your own wine .
Churn your own butter. Grow a garden.
When all else fails,
pull the hands off clocks. Declare it a crime to tell
Hang curtains on the daylight. Hold back the sea.
Ruin the sun and cycles that turn,
annihilate the moon - close the doors on eternity.
Copyright © Suzanne Delaney | Year Posted 2013
These are just for fun...I am trying my hand at them!
DROMEDARY'S NAIL POLISH
SMALL UNSENTIMENTAL HORSE
WILD DOG LANGUAGE
HOG'S MUSIC PLAY DATE
FELINE HEAD WEAR
Copyright © Deb Wilson | Year Posted 2013
In the scorching sun of the wild Sahara
Where the dunes shower like The Falling Niagara
And the black scorpion so eager for flesh
Roams the desert as if on African safari
The winds howling in the void wilderness
A dead silence fills the holes of emptiness
A tingling rattle is heard behind a dune
The stinging snake gives a deadly tune
From afar looms a misty mirage silhouette
Lumbering along with blaring clarinet
The music of which gives a poetic hint
That the desert is a sea of sparking glint
The flashes show and hide a caravanserai
Going through the wild in a lined array
Seeking an oasis to unload and sojourn
Before leaving the sands in the next morn
Again the convoy resumes the long voyage
A camel is known as the ship of the desert
Sailing through vast seas of golden sands
With light steps in resolute straight trends
The caravanserai passes and the sands move
The places change and the scorpion does rove
The winds still howl in empty space and loose
A ship has passed has left a wake after a cruise
The flock travels in never ending quest
For water for peace and for the best
Once there is an oasis there we shall rest
The sun of life is burning it is just a test
Copyright © Poetic Flame | Year Posted 2017
I’m taking my camel to town,
do you got a problem with that?
I’m gonna get him some fresh water
and clean provender
What cha say,
they don’t sell to his kind?!
He’s the finest mottled brown,
this side of the Sahara desert sand
This camel got the blackest spots
Proof that the sun
calls him his friend
While I’m in town,
I’m gonna buy my beautiful animal
a white straw hat
Do you have a problem with that?
Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2017
First day incognito,
called my yesterday boss
On a new burner cell,
with a free burrito ad promo toss
Told her this was my courtesy job
severance quitting HR call —
Advance notice: Fourteen
minutes minus two sabbath days
Said it was time to turn the knob
behind the picture on the wall
Stock options jackpot scene,
no more running the office maze
The rat race lost a cool-lio cat driver,
with the low-rider diamond in the back
Stress camel straw got balloon lighter,
Oz always knows the right time to pack
When you hear the pure velvety Jarreau voice,
and the jazzy trombone dulcet ringtone
I’m already making some high-altitude noise,
heading for destination: parts unknown
This is the last message on this phone,
I’m blue skies sailing to parts unknown
Hello again ex-boss, how have things been shaking,
since I air dropped the transporter Houdini news
Scottie, my fearless pygmy pilot,
beamed me to the edge of the no-satellite zone
Last I heard, there’s a boom in pioneer risk-taking,
but everybody ain’t got the feet size to fit the shoes
It gotta be you, can’t replicate it ...
corporate clones desk chained, they can't roam
I’m free to travel to destination: parts unknown
Moving thru areas where there’s no signal for pho ...
Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2018
The flat evening
In the bowl
In the swing
In the sky
The gray air
A little shy
The white hair
In the morning
The beta blocker
In the evening
The scripture and prayer
The river was tranquil
Neither the ripples nor the whistles
The chest peaceful
No fractions and decimals
Suddenly the gale
A blue blast
The prayer is frail
Begins the glasnost
In the dead soil
Fresh green poetry
The cup of turmoil
The struggling two and three
The charm is infectious
The music so supple
The Aphrodite of Cyprus
Drives away the camel
The control is contaminated
The germ is inexorable
With the blood gets blended
The pink poison granules
We postpone the starlight
The wine glasses calling
The summits of the highlights
In the waft of the spring
April 7, 2018
Contamination - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
Copyright © Probir Gupta | Year Posted 2018
His regular emissions
Worthy of politicians
To the anteater
Nothing is sweeter
Feel his chagrin
Labelled deadly sin
With justified reason
Deplores festive season
Mobile on belly
Recumbent in jelly
Far from pretty
Designed by committee
A chubby figure
Mouth even bigger
His muzzle excrescence
Prescribed for tumescence
22 October 2018
Six Word Couplet Series Encore Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Mark Toney
Copyright © Geoffrey Brewer | Year Posted 2018