Best Fur Poems
Your memories quirk in the rays of
stagnant oceans,
my yearning hangs on the tail of the dark
knight moon
as it illuminates the beats of your heart
racing through shadows.
Let us dance all night long sneaking
through the rehearsal of a royal ball
so echoes of your voice leave a trail
in my heart that my thoughts can't
comprehend.
I am lost in the awry beauty of your silence.
even when the waves haul your kiss from
its shores
the wind leads them back to me.
our bodies are synchronously intertwined
with beautiful melodies.
imaginations spread in wildfire, our
names written on the flames.
squeeze me in a smile of scented bluebells
soaked in the berries of your wrong I play
you right.
In the winter sonata
our eyes met in an estuary where our love
was sung by evening birds that flew
through the road of our sailing feet.
What more can I ask of life when saturated
and adorned with tons of rare petals that
stick to me like galium aparine.
I could gaze at you through the spring of
snow and ruffle your hair until the tides ride
low.
My love for you works
against the laws of
time, not fitting into a
scale we will soar like
the sirens of the deep blue sea.
My love, you have shown me ways to exist
amidst cheerful demons and I promise to
spend it all with you even in immortality.
Wrapped in a ballet of
cherry blossom, your
arms are like Fur in the
snow of winter sonata.
Cassidy was a curious dog;
One day he walked into a bog,
Coming out, he looked about,
He couldn't see and began to pout;
Because he’s a sludge caked dog!
a mouse freely frolics
in the sunny meadow;
as 'neath the grass slithers,
a silent, patient shadow;
a short, smothered squeak,
then a stiffled struggling;
flowers flirt with the breeze
with nary an inkling!
then a brown feathery blur
plummets from the clear sky
with razor-sharp talons,
whipping wings, cruel cry;
rips the serpentine shape
with its cold, crooked beak,
then flies off, feeds the young
nestled high at the peak!
What to drink this morning? Coffee or tea?
Cold or hot? Sweet or slightly tart for me?
I do not care about breakfast. I have no time for that.
I have to feed the dog. I have to feed the cat.
Getting in the car I realize I am pretty much a mess.
Being a fur babies mamas I would expect nothing less.
They both sit in the window making me feel guilty.
Their names are Sugar Boy and Uncle Milty.
I drive six blocks before I remember my tea.
They are probably poking fun and laughing at me.
She was old, very old, frail and weak but still beautiful,
I recall holding her as a new born kitten;
so delightful to watch her play and do silly things,
growing up to be so graceful in her movements.
Always a lover of cuddling, purring even at twenty;
I held her until her last breath and then for hours.
Bunnies are furry
Chickens covered with feathers
But both can be pets
Fur Elise I play
For you I come to stay
Up close I prick with gay
Notes of you I lay and pray
Fur Elise I travel far
Poems of you I fill my jar
Up the hill I reach for you
Down the hill I search for you
Fur Elise I sing to you
Under the tree I long for you
Wherever I go I carry you
Above the sky I dream of you...
Some years ago I fell on hard times.
So my friend took me in and my cat Kiwi too.
At times life speaks in rhythm and rhymes.
We had adventures and this story's true.
She had Simba who was a huge dog.
Sometimes the cat and dog would fight.
Simba usually slept like a log.
While Kiwi prowled all through the night.
One day I tried to protect my kitty.
So into the master bedroom I threw her.
Unknown to me this was such a pity.
For suddenly there was flying fur!
Seems Simba was in there taking a snooze.
Kiwi landed smack on his back.
Out they charged and began to cruise.
Galloping like a pony,nothing left intact.
Kitty dug in her claws;held on for dear life.
Doggy whimpered as he flew room to room.
Those claws were sharp as a razor knife.
This magic carpet ride bound for doom.
We laughed so hard we nearly spit.
To see kitty taking this rough ride.
We couldn't help but roll with it.
Suddenly Simba flipped on his backside.
Down flew Kiwi over his head.
Off she ran , somewhere to hide.
Simba glanced around with dread.
That was sure some crazy ride!
written March 13th, 2014
on behalf of the little guy
deep behind enemy territory
welcome to the nameless republic
all good capitalists want a monopoly
all good physicians need you sick
the National Antidote Party broke down the door
I told them everything I know
so they let me off the meat hook
loosened my bindings and necktie
hammered nails in my head instead
powerful radio transmitter nails
don't get too close I'll bend your spoon
gimme a shot of Moonbeam barkeep
and a round for my ill-bandaged crew
we'll drink to the muse Pandemonia
don't get too close she’ll bend yer crank
with another specious spectacle
not necessarily Beauty's anointed
but a piston riding party girl nonetheless
I let you touch happy place
and now my theory on the blinding of Oedipus
which first off requires a family unit
for the inherent predispositions of childbirth
they made me walk upon magic carpet tacks
so me and my echo are here a little late
and a little paraplegic and screaming headaches
this is after all a holy epic of pilgrimage
from the sands of Delirium to the banks of Delusia
a simultaneous ambiance one for each eye
an ancient art form somewhat updated
coordinating the cascades of impulses
yet still black as the inside of a cow I mean crow
this epic deals with a touchy subject
intercession of the gods
grab your hat mister
we're going for a little joy ride
where anything including countries
can be bought sold and stolen
by the mutilators of comparison
hardwired and proud of it the fools
built for Survival the TV show
but times change and
survival meant finding parking
where one can escalate from emaciation
to farting obesity overnight
unrecognized even when brightly illuminated
we know only one thing for certain
that the Universe is knowable
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
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so many frigid clouds
so many dangling drooping dippers
on this icy, icy night of paper, powder and pearl…
she gushes out from the night blanket,
cats and tigers in flight, trees mashing ivory
feathers with silver stones.
her lukewarm eyes sink with velvet birds
sketching her photographs tissue crepe,
ocean crème and maiden white,
nesting on hemisphere’s balding coves
the sky-lamps trip on her thermal feet
naked… i mean, like breasts of newborn doves
on the nest’s chilled waiting room...
and just past midnight
at the basement of stillness, nothingness,
her translucent air swerves in transit
between visions of secluded saints and sinners
weeping then laughing at the bite of polar time.
this moon lady of frost
embraces lantern clouds waning,
heralding her sacred infant-like incantation
seemingly detached from earth mother’s limbs
on this icy, icy night of paper, powder and pearl…
she is cold changing to warm,
breathless along an arctic season longing
for her new moonchild to bear the fruits
of plump colors soon to be.
........................................
(( here's to: Chris D. Aechtner's " Free Verse for Winter"))
< my little girl came to me and asked for a pet
to me my heart just hasn't been quite set
but who could resist those baby brown eyes
and all those little wimpers and desirable sighs
so off we went in our broken down wagon
where the rear end you could tell was sagging
to petland is where we went
pocketbook really took a dent
odie and garfield was their chosen names
two bunny hampsters very different but the same
oh my little girl was not yet done
said mama we need hampster ball so they can have alot of fun
and don't forget their bedding liners
so their living will be much finer
but first you must buy them their cage
oh my little girl is quite smart for her age
she knows they like fruit and snacks
so she doubled order with ten sacks
ring ring ring ding ding ding
did it's cash register ever so did sing
eighty five fifty
well ain't that nifty
handed lady one hundred
mumbling under breath was said
left store in a hurry
with our clothes looking so dam fury
Written By Katherine Stella 7/3/11
Entry For Francine Robert's
Pick A Pet Contest
G.L. All
Angel's of old...
with their great wings outspread,
seen with bright light and a heavenly glory...
is not quite how it goes
in this modern day story.
Mine starts with some fur...
and a whisker or two...
with chicken or furniture he'd rather chew.
He comes with four paws and a long flowing tail,
his mission is clear...
which brings me to here.
He too came to bring love and compassion,
a special gift from above...
with meows never rationed.
P.R.Deremer
Make A Poem Contest
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
I seem to keep punishing Bo my naughty Golden Retriever,
He sneaks and lurks and is suspicious with Rosie our sassy cat,
My daughter says she caught them snuggling, I don’t believe her,
There’s no way Bo would be so gentle because he’s a silly brat.
Sometimes Bo can be generous sharing the family blanket,
Rosie gets irritable because God forbid she kindly share,
Although they are a nuisance, without them I wouldn’t make it,
When the night is over it’s cute to watch them play over there.
Rosie needs a new scratchy play house filled with kitty catnip,
Bo needs an absurd dog house to bask in the sun outdoors,
They both are so rambunctious especially when Rosie snips,
But at times they play excellent and I couldn’t ask for more.
My hubby is an engineer so he decided to build them houses,
It can get costly so he emits the second level to Rosie’s palace,
That darn cat was snooping around and found a tiny mouse,
But I could see that in her eyes she wasn’t showing any malice.
I appreciate my animals so I order an iota of yummy treats,
Orange and blue dog biscuits and tasty tuna filled pellets,
“Knock Knock!” on the door and they are so genial and sweet,
The neighbor says they’re admirable and that they seem angelic.
Yesterday my favorite purple iris was dug up by mischievous Bo,
He left a slanted kink and dragged it around the muddy backyard,
Even though they can be disobedient my heart will never let go,
My sweet fur-babies are so special, for I shall never disregard.
These 21 words were used: Absurd, appreciate, admirable
cat, caught, costly, emits, engineer, excellent, golden, generous, genial
iris, iota, irritable, kindly, knock, kink, orange, over, order
This poem took me 15 minutes to write
Date Written: July 8, 2016
Pantoum about Ernie Petersen,
Trader At Rose Prairie
Fur Trader
The buyer and trapper jawed trade
“What’s fur fetching at the Winnipeg auction?”
At Rose Prairie the deals was made
At the wood burning stove with caution
“What’s fur fetching at the Winnipeg auction?”
Cold winter makes pelt with heft.
The buyer fingers a beaver with caution.
“You’ve got four winters of debts still left.”
Cold winter makes pelt with heft
He checks account ledgers for bills overdo.
At jawing for credit the trapper was deft
“I needs credit for more than just stew.”
The buyer checks account ledgers for bills overdo.
The trapper needs wire, bullets, sugar, sour dough.
Doesn’t think of account ledgers or bills overdo
For a night with Maxime he’s in need of some dough.
The trapper needs wire, bullets, sugar, sour dough.
The buyer pours the brewed coffee and stokes the wood stove.
Says synthetic fur drove the auction real low.
Celebrities protested before the fur market dove.
He pours the brewed coffee and stokes the wood stove.
They chat about beaver, lynx and grey fox.
He tops up the mugs from the whisky alcove.
Talks of kids, dogs, and women and child lost to pox.
They chat about beaver, lynx and grey fox.
They share season from cabins, and tales of trap line.
They share bannock and bacon and butter from box
Of seasons they talk when barter was fine.
They share season from cabins and tales of trap line.
The buyer gives trapper snuff dark and sweet
Closes the deal with a ball of tough twine.
Then he sharpens a knife to serve some moose meet.
The buyer and trapper jawed trade.
I wanted to enter the contest offered by P. D.
As I can do couplets like 1 - 2 - 3.
When looking at the list of Foxy things to write
The Silver Fox Fur for P. D. came home to bite.
She doesn't deserve one of reddish hue
But Silver, yes indeed with, she could do.
For the special poetry writes P. D. puts on
Many a contest with them she has won.
Words that flow like "Slam, Bang, Boom"
Could only come from P. D.'s Foxy Room.
When they are read and and read over by me
Sometimes I see how Foxy she can be.
That's the real art in the written form
Doing something outside the established norm.
Words so clever, cute, rewarding, and sly
Make P. D.'s Foxy side show so apparently.
That's why the color of fur cannot be red
It wouldn't fit the gifted nature that fox can tread.
So "A Silver Fox Fur for P. D." is one I would award
To one of the Foxiest writers I am drawn toward!
For P. D.'s Inner Animal Contest.