Best Curl Up Poems
My dear brother Butch,
Hair are the highlights of my week:
I got a job at the Hairway to Heaven salon!
Our motto: "We color your hair or dye trying"
When the interviewer said "I mustache you a question..."
I answered, "May I mullet over?"
Seriously, working there is a shear delight,
with some nice fringe benefits
They're a real cut above the rest
and I shave a lot of money on hair products...
I bought Dad a comb for Father's Day… I bet he'll never part with it
It is a long drive to the salon, but now I know all the short cuts
Oh hey, I know hair-growth seminars are not your style, but
call up your receding hairline buddies and comb on over!
It was great to see you last week, you are looking so trim!
I still feel terrible about the curling iron incident…
You can rest a-sheared I'll straighten it out
but I mussed warn you, you might get fro straighted
Just remember, $15 for a hairpiece is a small price toupée
You may not like short hair at first, but it will grow on you
...that's the mane thing
Did you hear Mom and Dad had a brush with death?
It was a very hairy situation with a real twist:
buzzing down the highway at a decent clip
someone tried to cut them off
Mom was ready to wig out, curl up and dye, but thankfully
Dad went to great lengths to avoid an accident
so there was no permanent damage
you had to see it to be-weave it
Ok, time for a couple of jokes to lighten the mood:
How does the man on the moon trim his hair?
Eclipse.
Why did Pavlov have such fabulous looking hair?
Conditioning.
Why do felines groom with their tongues?
They can't find their catacombs.
Why did the little girl watch "Black Stallion" more than "Babe"?
She liked pony tales more than pig tales.
What was the barber's sign before he went on vacation?
"Hair today, gone to Maui"
Did you hear about the novelty store selling fake piles of dung?
It was sham poo.
Just teasing!
Take hair,
Curly
"i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go . . . "
ee Cummings
No human ever touched me so wonderfully
as did a soul by the name of Ollyver.
I adopted Ollyver when he was only one year old.
Not too fond of males (perhaps abused by them),
he immediately took to me as I snuggled him on the drive home.
In time I discovered he was not too fond of anyone at all -
other than me! Ollyver was a white miniature Eskimo dog.
Ollyver followed me everywhere.
Knowing instinctively when I would be home from work,
he waited by the door and then leaped up into my arms
the minute I walked in.
In the night, he would curl up next to me.
He did not like my husband’s presence on the bed,
but he learned to adjust despite their mutual dislike for each other!
One day, for reasons I won’t mention, I was separated from my beloved dog.
Many tears I cried over him, for I had experienced from him
an unconditional love that perhaps no human had ever shown me.
I knew he was somewhere in my city, but he was at least ten years old
and I guessed he would die in a few years.
A few years passed, and one night, I believe my beloved dog
visited me on his way out of this earthly realm,
for I awoke to see him standing on my bed.
My heart filled with joy as I saw him there.
He jumped over my husband’s sleeping body
and into my arms. I buried my face in his soft white fur.
The event was so real to me, yet I fell back into a dream
in which I wandered the streets with Ollyver.
Never have I had such a spiritual experience
(not even with my own family) as what I had
with this little dog
whom I like to believe returned to me
that night of my splendid dream.
How could a mere animal have been
of such relevance to me in my life?
I know only this. . . I was loved completely by Ollyver,
and for that reason,
I carry his heart with me.
For the 'Beloved Pets' Poetry Contest
I rise at the center of...
Is it a room? This is a face.
There is motion, too fast, too clamorous.
Cryptic and opaque. Shapes shift
into my field of view.
Recognize! The message spoken
ends in an upward curve.
Interpret! It means a question
? ? ? ?
What to respond, when....
I get nauseous.
My body twitches, my mouth tics
I make no sound
I cannot speak.
I cast my eyes down.
Curl up, arms wrapped around self;
Rock to calm down again;
Count the tiles;
Hum Rachmaninoff.
What is this incomprehensible life?
My soothing world is filled with letters and words,
a keyboard, screen, and silent friends
They speak to me in sentences and formulas
of friendship and love...
on my screen..
I am afraid
I am always so very afraid
Once I was somewhere else
Locked up inside
My head
Once I was somewhere else
I will not go back there
I want to stay out.
AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL
My childhood spent without peers
alone and prey to my fears.
Nights spent face buried in my pillow
my emotions like a weeping willow.
The school kid disliked and attacked
like a player continuously sacked.
Bruises and scars physical,
cuts deep and salted, emotional.
Not a friend not even one
or an adult there to help - none.
You look to the skies for relief
but lessons taught come with grief.
Our life books come prewritten
set in stone, can't be rewritten.
Loneliness moves in, year after year
without choice you hide behind a veneer.
You give up on living
focus on just existing.
Sorry, I have to stop here. This story now transcends
rhyming, calls for a voice free just to speak.
Loneliness has many faces.
I imagine one of the most intense state of loneliness
is losing a loved one.
A planet of three billion would feel empty.
I have witnessed my mothers chagrin after
losing my father.
Happy partners a lifetime long and suddenly
she is one of two.
You do the math.
They were two who became one.
Now she is alone cut down the middle
add her pain and she is barely half.
There is no crowd that could fill her void.
There is no amount of family love
that could fill the hole in her heart.
My pain was different. I just had a wish to belong,
to have one friend, one love, or just to have a hand to hold.
When you're abandoned, ridiculed, and disliked
by everyone even by people who don't even
know you, you have no choice but to hide.
My loneliness turned me into a critter
that could curl up into a small ball.
Still I had hope.
I wished someone could love me.
Love me for my gentle ways,
my giving nature and my open arms.
18~11~2014
Sponsor: frank herrera
Contest Name: FACES OF LONELINESS
WRITE ABOUT LONLINESS FROM YOUR OWN EXPERIENCE....MUST BE AUTO BIOGRAPHICAL.
What I wouldn't give most days
to run from the world and just hide
in a corner nook, with a storybook.
I'd immerse myself and time I'd bide
A foreign land, a new romance.
Swept away by the written page.
Where love is forever, happiness reigns
and every heroine's passions rage.
Life can be repetitive, numb,
but immersed in stories everything's new.
The best escapism is by far
found in a good book, this is true.
When day is done and time my own
I'll curl up in that corner nook
and let myself be taken away
inside the pages of a storybook.
22/04/2016
Momma, you might be gone now but I stll have you in my heart.
Momma, we might have fought alot, but in the end you were stil my best friend.
Momma, you were the one that new all I had done wrong.
Momma, you were always there, every single restless night, every helpless fright.
Momma, every day I had with you, was more than I really new.
Momma, its been a rough year without you here.
Momma, sometimes I want to curl up in your arms and cry.
Momma. I miss you, but don't worry Im gettin through.
Momma, I love you. and miss you... R.I.P. Momma.
Form:
That night, in a strange place
I was like a fly
Circling a street light
Reeling…Reeling!
I felt so alone
Fear wrenched my throat
Couldn’t predict
When I would be charred to death
I had heard,
In the cover of dark
Everyone was a robber
Or a masked assassin!
Without a roof over my head
I was like a mole
Smoked out of its hole
And exposed to blaring light
Had it been my own town
Where I knew
Every nook and cranny
Like the lines of my palm
I wouldn’t have minded
Being so helplessly stranded
Or left in the night
At a distance….
I saw the faint silhouette of hills
Like dreadful dinosaurs crouching
Also the outlines of buildings
Reminding one of the medieval haunted castles
Stray dogs, mangy
Were raiding the trash bins.
I don’t know why then
I enjoyed their company
I could hear the falling hooves
Of cattle, led to the slaughterhouse,
And the lash of whips falling on them,
Echoing the shrieking of a banshee!
Saw an auto lying upside down
Fallen unwary in a pothole
A line of tanker lorries
Seen halted by the roadside,
Like the bogies of a goods train
And their drivers went home,
To sleep with their mates
Behind the cover, I saw
Two figures leaning;
A man and a woman
Night owls at a mating serenade!
I closed my eyes,
Covering them with my palm
In that unearthly hour
An eerie fear gripped me.
Tension was building inside,
Like a balloon being bloated with air
And how my mind longed
To slither out of that hole
To curl up in the warmth of my home
Far… far away!
christmas comes but once a year
and thats too much for me
ive never been a fan of sitting round a dead pine tree
my favourite sweets are humbugs
turkeys for the yanks
and as for christmas crackers
would i pull yours
no thanks
bing crosbys on the radio
dreaming bout the snow
and fat men in red suits and beards
are everywhere i go
the queen comes on the tv
saying how shes had it rough
then steve mcqueen escapes again
and now ive had enough
ill get my coat and take a walk
the pubs just down the road
but that is closed for christmas day
so back to my abode
an early night sounds good to me
ill curl up with a book
forget about this christmas thing
its over now
thank god
Form:
She was always there
with her big green eyes
Looking up at me
and into the skies.
Her dreams were of birds
and of prowling about.
I tried keeping her in
but she always got out.
She would hide on the roof
to hunt unwary prey
then gift them to me
in her honoring way.
Sometimes I screamed loudly
at the gifts that she offered
centipedes, roaches and mice
were some things she proffered.
Praises were always followed
by special kitty treats.
While I pleaded with her
to make no repeats.
She always stood guard
as if to give me protection
and would curl up close to me
to offer her affection.
Oh Lilly, sweet Lilly
please continue to purr
and I will continue
to stroke your soft fir.
As her song would begin
well, it made me cry.
I’ll miss her every day
until the day that I die.
November 24, 2014
(Even If You Are A Cat Person This Applies To You)
Dear Dogs,
When I say to move it means go someplace else, not switch positions with each other so there are still two dogs in the way.
The dishes with the paw prints are yours and contain your food.
The other dishes are mine and contain my food.
Please note placing a paw print in the middle of my plate and my food does not stake a claim for it becoming your food and dish I find that aesthetically pleasing in the slightest.
The stairway was not designed by NASCAR and is not a race track.
Beating me to the bottom is not the object.
Tripping me doesn't help because I fall faster than you can run.
I cannot buy anything bigger than a king size bed.
I'm very sorry about this but do not think that I will continue to sleep on the couch to ensure your comfort.
Look at videos of dogs sleeping. They can actually curl up into a ball.
It is not necessary to sleep perpendicular to each other stretched out to the fullest extent possible. I also know that sticking tails straight out with tongues hanging out the other end to maximize space used is nothing but doggie sarcasm.
My compact discs are not miniature frisbees.
For the last time, there is not a secret exit from the bathroom.
If by some miracle I beat you there and manage to get the door shut it is not necessary to claw, whine, try to turn the knob or get your paw under the edge and try to pull the door open.
I must exit through the same door I entered.
In addition, I have been using bathrooms for years;
canine attendance is not mandatory.
Lastly, the proper order is kiss me, then go smell the other dogs butt.
I cannot stress this enough.
It would be such a simple change for you.
With Love,
Mom
Six months have passed since you walked out on me
Wearily I climb the stairs and try to sleep
My tears freely flow and my lilac pillow is soaked
I have to swap it with the one where your head used to lay
I’m lost without you
I shut my eyes tightly but all I can see is your face
Now I truly know what heartbreak is
The pain is like nothing I have ever known
Like glass shards piercing my heart
I’m lost without you
My life is empty without you by my side
No one to share my fears and wipe away my tears
No one to curl up with and share my love
I want it all to end
I’m lost without you
Feel like I can’t go on
I take comfort in the bottle
Have lost my job, lost my dignity
I have lost everything I once held so dear
I’m lost without you
Friends say it will get better
I will pick up and move on
But when you find ‘the one’
Why settle for anyone else
I’m lost without you
I can’t go on drowning in a river of tears
For me there is no tomorrow
I have no wish to carry on
So this is goodbye
Without you – I’m lost
03~07~15
Contest Tammy Reams – The Pain Of Night - N/A
I’m hanging on to the skeletal branch with all my might
Westerly winds blow but I won’t give in without a fight
My skin once soft and smooth is now wizened and wrinkly
Dark veins are so visible now, I’m all brown and crinkly
Suddenly a huge gust of wind releases me
HELPPPP! I’m
F
A
L
L
I
N
G
Silently I drift down to the ground,
Now I am lying on my winter bed where I will curl up and die
No longer the last lonely leaf on earth …
For now I’m surrounded by my friends and family …
Inspired by the lonely leaf poem by Sophiya Kamil
28th November 2015
It is so hard to say goodbye. The end has come.
I knew it would . . . someday. Such a good cat;
for twelve long years, my Grumpy, always there for me,
wanting a pat, a lap, a snack to make you fat.
I recall our first meeting on a freezing winter day,
cold, unfriendly eyes of a stray, rejected by the world;
alone and afraid, hissing. Slowly a trusting friendship,
and eventually in my arms you were curled.
How can I endure this cruel world without my friend?
But of course, I must go on . . . I imagine you;
in a beautiful garden, lush and green. Sunshine streaming,
bird songs filling the air, and a sky azure blue.
You are busy grooming your shiny brown tabby fur,
amber eyes twinkle, a little pink tongue busy curling;
a paw, a face . . . something catches your attention;
you jump up to swat a passing butterfly whirling.
Rolling in the cool grass, you curl up for a nap,
with a sigh . . . and death came to you like a thief;
till I draw my last breath, I will hold you in my heart,
the price I pay for loving you so much, is grief.
But, I would not change one moment of our time together,
you were a gift from God, to last me all my lifetime;
never to be repeated . . . as you drew your last breath,
I whispered in your ear, till to heaven I climb,
and I placed you in God's loving arms in the meantime . . .
__________________________
Written at sixteen years old
Posted, April 27, 2017
Elegy/In Memory Of Grumpy Cat
Copyright Protected, ID 895903
Juvenilia
Ceclia Hopkins-Drewer
__________________________
"All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small:
All things wise and wonderful,
The Lord God made them all . . . ."
(Mrs. Cecil Frances Humpreys Alexander, 1848)
Oft' I wonder what my cat Simba thinks behind that baleful stare.
Is he planning roguery or just building castles in the air?
Perhaps he's reviewing strategies for catching a bird to devour.
Here's what I sense goes on behind his condescending glower!
I 'puuur'ceive he's thinking, "Hey, remove yourself from my chair!
Who said you could sit there - that's my favorite lair!
Will you at least make room on your very ample lap,
So I can curl up and take my usual afternoon nap?"
Many times he glares at me and emits a plaintive 'meow'.
I'm sure he's thinking, "Hey, pal, ain't it time for chow?"
He stalks about the house as if it was his sole domain,
Thinking, "I guess I'll benevolently allow you to remain!"
With soulful eyes he invites me to scratch behind his ears.
If I try to comb his coat, "Oh no you don't!" and he disappears!
Sprawling upon the window sill he gazes across the street,
Eyeing the Persian cat, thinking, "Meeee-Wow! Her I'd like to meet!"
When he begins to purr and 'puuur'sistently rubs against my feet,
He's probably thinking, "Hey, old buddy, how about a treat?"
My cat thinks, "He's not a bad sort, him I can tolerate.
He provides my grub - furthermore, with him I can communicate!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 1 in Francine Roberts' "Pick A Pet" Contest - July 2011
"It happens just because we need to want, and to be wanted too, when love is here or gone to lie down in the darkness and... listen to the warm.” -Rod McKuen
I reflect on them often, those years.
Watching gilded sunsets from the shade of old trees we’d planted in the yard.
I try to reclaim the contentment of our lazy romance.
There was no wine; no little black dresses.
It was certainly not a diamond, ruby, and emerald affair.
But was it any less valuable?
I bask still in the glow of the fires we’d share during cold winters,
and the way the dogs would curl up and sleep on our feet as we’d read together.
Your side of the bed has grown so very cold in your absence.
Sometimes, as I dream, I can feel you, your warmth…
and hear you snoring.
Ok, so you weren’t sleeping beauty…but I needed no fairy tales.
That was our life, wasn’t it? Simple and honest, and perfect for what it was because
we were together…
were.
Now here I sit, chilly,
with just my reflections, and your empty chair.
I dwell on yesterday and my heart listens for the warm.
Perhaps it will be tonight, under the gilded sunset of my own life,
that as the sun sets and the night grows cold
we shall sit together by the fire,
with the dogs asleep at our feet,
and be together once more,
forever warm.
5/5/16
For Contest: Listen to the Warm
Hosted by: Laura Loo