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Best Gerbil Poems | Poetry

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The Best Gerbil Poems

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Word Squirrel

Rodents can be loquacious
That includes your average gerbil
They love to prattle, chat and blather
They really are quite verbal

Hamsters are talkative too
Just as garrulous as can be
With running mouth and wheel to match
They are a sight to see

But I am loath to squander words
Sparing usage is my way
I gather them like so many acorns
Against a rainy day

Yes, word collecting is the passion
Of this precocious squirrel
I garner adjectives, verbs and nouns
Be they singular or plural

The park is fecund land
There a plethora may be found
Vociferous, vehement and vex
I lately scooped up off the ground

The verb tree is prolific
Its discovery quite a boon
The other day it bestowed upon me
Flaunt, foster and festoon

All along the sidewalks
Concrete nouns lie strewn about
How blithely I did snatch up
A lummox, a laggard and a lout

To command a better view
I nimbly scampered up a pole
From this lofty perch I spotted
Wheedle, coax and cajole

Away in the distance
I spied a tempting pile
Heaped up for the taking were
Enticing, alluring and beguile

What do I with so much verbiage?
You would be fair to ask
Squirreling away so vast a lexicon
Must prove a mammoth task

The answer lies in my arboreal abode
Where these many words I stash
In alphabetical order they are arrayed
From zealous to abash

In a capricious mood one day
I grouped them by part of speech
Such a cacophony arose from clustering
Banter, badger and beseech

No matter how I sort them
The wasting of words I spurn
Reserved for rarest use I keep
Reticent, laconic and taciturn!


by Brian McClain - Feb 17, 2016

Originally posted Feb 17, 2016
Accidentally deleted Feb 22, 2016
Reposted Feb 22, 2016

Copyright © Brian McClain | Year Posted 2016

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The Two Gerbils and the Wheel

This is a story of sharing. This is a story of caring for one another and placing other's needs above our own. 

Once upon a time there were two gerbils in a gerbil cage. One gerbil said to the other gerbil, “Hey, wanna go for a stroll on the wheel?”

The other gerbil replied merrily, “Nah. You go first because you haven’t run for quite a while.”

The first gerbil hopped on the wheel and began to run and run and run until he couldn’t run any more. He even became dizzy and almost fell off the wheel. He was so excited to get some good old fashioned rodent exercise, but he just didn't know when enough was enough. Finally he hopped off the wheel and took a rest for a while. 

Soon after that the owner of the gerbils came over and said, “HI! “ 

“How are you two fellas doing in there today?” said the owner with a happy grin.

The two gerbils looked up at him and decided to run on the wheel again just to say thanks to the young boy for taking such good care of them. 

The second gerbil hopped up on the wheel first and then after two minutes decided to take a break. Then the first gerbil began to jog merrily on the wheel again. It was like gerbil heaven in the cage and the two friends continued to take turns all throughout the day. They even helped each other take turns at the water container too.
The young boy who owned the gerbils wondered what it was like to be a gerbil as he sat there most of the afternoon. He wondered if he could survive all cooped up in a glass cage too. 

There is a moral to this story. There really is!

The moral is you never know what you are getting yourself into when you live in a gerbil cage.

The second moral is that even in the smallest environments you can learn to live in harmony with one another and peace can prevail. It takes effort and it takes a BIG HEART too!

Gwendolen Rix

Copyright © Gwendolen Song | Year Posted 2015

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Ode to my Gerbil

I’m scum, I know, I am an ***
I knew through cardboard you could pass

You chewed and chewed a great big hole,
I wish I knew you had a soul

You ran and laughed, but what you saw
It stomped you flat, it was a paw

That cat, he smirked and ate you raw
He stuffed you in his great big maw

My dear sweet babe, I won’t forget,
Your tiny life and what you met

The fault is mine, and I must pay,
Though when and how, I cannot say

The day will come, my life’s all done,
Until that time I’ll have no fun

Copyright © Susan McDermott | Year Posted 2016

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Gran's Got Gerbils

 The following poem is based on a true story 

We were sitting down one evening when the phone began to ring,
“Hello mum,” said Father, “Can I help with anything?”
Grandmother then answered, “There’s a gerbil in my house!”
“Do you really mean a gerbil? Don’t you mean a mouse?”
“I’m certain it’s a gerbil,” My grandmother defended,
“And the fact you think I’d get that wrong makes me feel offended.”
“I’m sorry, but a gerbil? Are you really sure?”
“Yes I am. It must be one of those they’ve got next door.”
“We’re on our way.” Said my Dad and then hung up the phone,
And then within the hour we were at Grandmother’s home.

“Ok Mum, please tell me, just what did you see?”
“It came out from the kitchen and went under the TV.”
Dad went in a cupboard and then took out a trap,
Set it with some chocolate and waited for the “Snap!”,
It only took a moment, and what do you suppose?
A great big rat staggered out, the trap caught on its nose!
Dad chased it to the garden and gave it quite a whack,
“It’s ok Mum, that gerbil is never coming back”,
“Thank you Son, you know that I’d have struggled doing that,
But it could have been so much worse. It could have been a rat!”

Copyright © Sharon Smith | Year Posted 2012

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ode to a gerbil

little gerbil in a cage
running your wheel but full of rage
hate being locked up all the day
waiting for your big escape
wondering what it would be like to play
in the heat of the sun's rays

Copyright © Jo Bien | Year Posted 2009

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As a baby, love comes in soft and simple ways
A warm bottle, a hug, fresh sheet on which she lays.
The toddler, she matures, begins to fill her days
Walking so she can grab the toys with which she plays.
By five our sweetheart is eager to face school ways
The gerbil in her class never ceased to amaze.
At puberty, she's in that "I-know-it-all" phase
Any attempt at advice brings a zombie gaze.
When graduate is on her own at last all pays
She becomes a friend you happened to help to raise.
One day she'll say the thing that sets your heart ablaze:
"You're gonna be a grandma," -- one who's earned her praise!

Copyright © Cindi Rockwell | Year Posted 2017

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A Guinea Pig Is Dead

In 1985, we had three daughters.
They were 5, 10, and 11.
So life was fun, of course.
Each daughter had a gerbil.
Flopsy, Crumbone and Taylor.
Don’t ask me which is which.
They are rodents.

I broke my leg on a Thursday.
In 5 places, trying to ride a bike to the day care 
Center to pick up the 5-year- old because my
Husband had the car, and the police will come
Pick up the 5-year-olds who are left after 6.
This is California, where everything is weird.
My mom who had never flown on a plane,
Flew out wearing wings pinned to her bosom
 on Saturday.
It’s a wonder I wasn’t already dead.
I was expecting that actually.

By evening she had fought the dogs
For their cooking pans full of water.
These dog-food pans were soon sterilized and
 cooking spaghetti. And there was garlic
bread too, hot, piping, out of
an oven or something.
Home-made food!
My daughters were astounded.
They thought food came from 
Styrofoam with restaurant
Names on it.

On Tuesday Mom was doing the 18,482 
Pieces of laundry we had used the week
Before, and she said, “Caren, come over
Here.” I hobbled over on my crutches,
Which was not easy.
“I think a guinea pig is dead,” she whispered.
I poked it with a hoe. It did not move.
I poked it with a broom.
Nothing still.

We have to announce this
Delicately, my mother said in
Hushed tones of reverence.
We did not mention it during breakfast.
We did not mention it during lunch.
My mother kept looking at me expectantly.

By supper time after yelling for the three
Girls to come downstairs, and being ignored
I lost it and yelled, “A GUINEA PIG IS DEAD!”
Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.
Wailing and keening began.
“That was subtle,” my mother told me.
Yes, it was.

Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018

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My Girl Anna Conda

She is long, lean and very much into exercise
In body building contests, she always takes top prize
Now she is training for a Triathalon
Her mother coaches her from her car eating Bon Bons
She tells her it takes self discipline to succeed
As she is rolling up a joint from her dime bag of weed
She says you can accomplish anything you wanna
She is close to being my girl, my very own Anna Conda
I am usually sitting at her house watching her pet Gerbil
She runs my life, when she's not there, I really get verbal
I tell her Gerbil, Gertrude if you don't like it, then get out
I feel brave with Gertrude, so I really get loud
This has me thinking do I love her or her dominant ways
Sometimes I don't see her for days
So I call her sister for some support, her name is Rhonda
She tells me we better not talk, I don't wanna feel the wraith of Anna Conda
I tell her I am not afraid of her
Besides, she is busy at Shoney's Buffet feeding her mother
So Rhonda and I get together for some sneaky fun
I threaten Gertrude, you better not tell her what we've done
I am true American, I can't tolerate Commie Hoes like Jane Fonda
When will I be loved by Anna Conda
The phone rings, I am disappointed, it's only a bill collector
I didn't understand a word, but I did catch his name, he goes by Hector
So another a person who speaks English, tells me she is 3 months behind on her Honda
I tell the person, I dare you to come and get it, that's a direct quote from Anna Conda
Three days later the car is gone
She kicked my butt from Dusk til Dawn
Now I have a new love, her name is Vonda
The nightmares are still there, the virtual hauntings from Anna Conda

Copyright © Eugene Carmen | Year Posted 2008

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Wide Awake II

Insomnia isn't what this is...body feels the antithesis
   too many synapses tap dancing late
A recital of thoughts that wont disapate
  Body idle despite the cranium cartwheels--The heart feels ..
     much like a gerbil wheel spinning
              tireless night, patience is thinning
In the dark, there's no repression for forced out thought
Losing ten counts in bruising mind bouts 
   No preoccupation to mask this.... basque this in brighter shine
                        this is the jail-cell of night...
         With my past trangressions in sight,  I lay here reflecting
                  REM if everything's not alright

Lunar-revelation is my one-on-none time....
   Nights like these 
        make me spiteful 
              to morning birds that wake me

Copyright © Steve Voorhees | Year Posted 2009

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Gerbils Poem

Gerbils poem

Two black eyes
Peep out of the bedding
A quivering nose
And not much more
A tail as thick
As a bit of string
It is a gerbil
Is it not?

Two blue eyes
Look into my bedding
Arms and legs
And a good deed more
Clumsy and huge
I wonder why
It grows so slow
And grows so high
It is a person
Is it not?

Copyright © 2017 Diane Cassels

Copyright © Diane cassels | Year Posted 2017

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Still Kicking

When I enacted the interaxle differential
Would I be abreacted out of my whimsical lull?
Oh the futile gerbil spin-to regain traction again
Have I lost my mind or my sole admirer?
Does the road truly unwind or do I merely
dance a jig atop the funeral pyre?
When I searched the land scrape 
smashing protons with a wedge
Am I still perched teetering on the edge
of my precarious ledge?
Oh the creaking knees-Charlie's horse
crys for menthol please
Have I tossed in my beret 
to my inquisitive inquisition peers?
When on the frozen tundra slab I lay
I can finally say I abolish my fears
When I nearly fainted searching
for The Living Lord
Should I continue with painted fringes
or pull the reins from loping
totally off my gord?
Oh to be Tai Chi Chuan grounded
or molehills mounded
lending only to dumbfounded
Have I counted the cost 
wrestling with the princes of Persia?
Son of Man has found that which was lost
yet I still flounder attempting to thrash 
innate inertia.
3-20-2017 Duncan R. M. Ferguson

Copyright © Duncan R. M. Ferguson | Year Posted 2017

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The Runaway Gerbil

There was a hole in your cage
And out ran you
Head held high and laughing
Like a gerbil would do
You hid behind the dryer
And maybe slept a few
And had a merry time
Thinking we couldn't catch you
You grazed on paper
And snacked on the lint
All the while we were wondering
Where the heck you went
But there you sat
After a bout of being free
No more running and hiding
You  said  catch me
Put me back in my cage
Shut the door tight
Fix that hole in my roof
And, watch out, I bite!

Copyright © Anne-Marie Lee | Year Posted 2008

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Energized by light
run with power
The opponents become pawns on a grid
A universal world in our imaginations
Spinning at the speed of light
Not a gerbil running on it's wheel

Made by a creator
Which one day will self destruct
Vanishing among a sea of stars
An eclipse of a moon
One like no other
after walking out of the game alive
Trying to make it back home
before you hear the final
Game Over

Copyright © Michelle McDermin | Year Posted 2011

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the accumulant

as a child
the amazement with little things,
the wrapper on the present,
(instead of the present itself)
shiny objects & furry fuzzies,
all brought with them an
enjoyment which couldn’t be held onto---
crumbling brittle &
swiftly falling through the hands with the
consistency of 
grains of sand.

the passing years allowed for
a new notion to be instilled within by those without
(for the child themself
is not to blame)---
like a hypodermic needle being driven into the
the already-corrupted who have
succumb to the environment of dog-eat-dog
which western “civilization” demands,
watch quietly with mr. smithers-ish sneers
as that same once simple child
is raped of their wonder,
strapped into the seat of eternal labor-for-the-sake &
beat into submission,
running like a cartoon cop with a stick protruding out in from of them
(with donut swinging from a string),
they learn quickly that 
what matters, is not the development of a better self
(whose own progress inside can
benefit those around them through mutual 
conversation & communication),
but instead is the accumulation of

these things to be acquired 
differ much from those things that could bring smiles for
hours when the individual was young,
as they are not meant for enjoyment
but instead,
are needed to assert an achieved sense of worth
as defined through those who have already 
given up every other option 
which might have existed
prior to becoming material addicts.

the accumulant needs more things
so that those around them will respect what
s/he has done with their brief life,
because this is how respect is gained in the strip mall 
we call america
after the accumulant has begun to gain enough things
so as to be coveted by one who has
less things,
they need to spend time & money gaining
security, so as to protect those things
from being taken by others who 
have not played their cards in a manner 
best suited for the capitalist gang bang,
as the accumulant has done.

the accumulant shows no further signs of being human,
but instead has become a gerbil
who must continue running on the wheel 
in order to produce work for the system that will give them
things &
with these things
a tower of excrement 
symbolizing a life of 
building & building
(according to “the way that it has always been”)
has been constructed---
as long as the gerbil continues to run
the tower continues to grow &
security around its base 
continues to be strengthened,
until that day when the gerbil can no longer
run &
the tower is ransacked,
dismantled &

Copyright © andrew delapruch | Year Posted 2011

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Life As A Gerbil

I would like to thank you for your visit.
I have removed these poems for a distant future book publication.
I believe we poets, can make a difference
in this world. We live in the 21st century,
we have tools( technology), we have our past,  and imagination.
We just don't have the courage, because
I guess most are afraid to fail, to loose money.
All I have to say is we can't take money with us,
when we die. I also say hasn't mankind failed enough,
and isn't mankind worth the effort, our children is worth the effort..

Thank you, and my your God Bless you

John E WordSlinger

Copyright © John E WordSlinger | Year Posted 2009

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Meowing Cat 2

The gerbil is not food
She doesn't like you
You pounce and prey upon my friend
The gerbil is not food
You paw at her, but she will bite
Your claws will never hold her tight
The gerbil is not food
She doesn't like you

Copyright © Katelyn Crouch | Year Posted 2016

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Recollections of a Pekingese

Recollections of a Pekingese

Remembering she loved me so.
Alone and frightened in that shop,
Hidden like a gerbil, laying low.
While wishing someone kind would stop.

I barked and yapped when she came near.
Because I knew she'd loved me so.
With sparkle eyes, she held me dear.
And took me home where I did grow.

Protecting her when we would go.
While in her lap, I’d bark and yap.
We lived because she loved me so.
And thus it was ‘til death did tap.

I watch from heaven up above.
And shield her from life’s dreadful woe,
Two spirits fitting like one glove.
Remembering she loved me so.

© Dane Smith-Johnsen
April 18, 2010

Copyright © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen | Year Posted 2010

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New Beginning Page 42a

In My Brain

Here comes the cat 
He's chasing a rat
Followed by the dog
Who is playing with a frog 
Then my hamster went by
With a huge apple pie
The my gerbil appeared
He had grown him a beard
Well my budgie he cheered
Now if you think this is weird
Well my pigs disappeared 
All in all it's insane
Because it's all in my brain

Busy Fool

Some people work hard all of their life
Missing time with children, husband or wife
Earning money their only goal
Missing from family their heart and soul
The children grow they miss so much
The wife or husband miss their touch
They think chasing money is really cool 
Till they find they've been a busy fool
When they look back at what they did miss 
Money can never make up for this
So stop chasing money hoarding a stash
When all around you is worth more than cash

If Peace

What would we do if peace should arrive?
Would we help the weak to thrive?
Once the weapons of war have been disarmed
By peace will we all be charmed?
Our will we only throw it away?
Well what do you reckon what do you say?


The light rain that they forecast
Is here it has reached us at last
They said light rain that was a lie
I'll tell you the reason why
It's pouring and I mean lashing down
Lovely weather for ducks makes me frown
It’s banging on the window it wants to get in
So much for the forecasters they really cannot win
So I'm going to grab a pinecone off the ground
Open for sun closed for rain it will be sound

Rhyme Of A Dream

He was sitting in a yellow corner
His name wasn't even Jack Horner
They wanted him to climb up a hill
Again His name wasn't Jack and there was no Jill
They wanted him to move the cows in the corn
Yet his name is not boy blue and he had no horn
This nursery rhyme of a dream
So confusing it did seem
Now he awakes and behold
In a yellow corner with his Jill with a golden horn to hold

Copyright © Owen Yeates | Year Posted 2017

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What If Destiny

What If Destiny... 
Deeded Mine Singular Default Mode To...

Communicate (temporarily,
     strictly and hypothetically)
     merely allowing me to burble
essentially rendering, limiting,
     and fixing me tubby nonverbal,

where frustration ensued -
     inducing passivity, asper myself
     shrugging shoulders in resignation
     **** sitter ring thy fate
     nsync with that of a gerbil?

Thus codifying, con
     fining, and consigning
     stricture to a sorry lot
perhaps finding me
     envying fun 
     Gus of ergot,

which organism at least participates
     in a pro active life cycle,
     though one may say,
     said organism doth rot.

Now...all Joe King aside,
an attempt will be made tried
though daunted to cogitate beside
Ritch ching deep inside
     and remain on - ride
ding the straight and true
     so please dont chide
restricting me to bide

with guise of seriousness,
     when aye decide
did to complete on
     par tragedy thalidomide

wrought, yet this poem, though belied
and bedeviled pondering
     how Yukon not induce tongue re:
     totally tubularly restrained,
     sans tubby unable to talk
     plus afflicted with autism,
     hence guide
did through extreme effort

     pretending, thus
     to feign being denied
critical skill to chat
     with a snap allied
(NOT with van knit tee),
     but dead seriousness try
ying with futility hypothetically
     impossible to imagine tubby

     accursed without means to speak
     compounded by autism,
     an immeasurable frustration
     must mount inside,
viz unfortunate behavioral demeanor,
     nonetheless I cried
inside when the limp deceased body of
     six year old

     Maddox Ritch – already died,
drowned mainly supposedly,
     when dashing ahead,
     he didst play hide
with his father (Ian Ritch),

     while the special needs child
     (unknowingly) both spent
     final hours together
     bonding at Rankin
     Lake Park in Gastonia
     within North Carolina.

Copyright © matthew harris | Year Posted 2018

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pays to be me,in defeat,do you scream.lean, plaeser,a hellbent 
ceaser,weezer,the band,my biggest are they/they repay from 
scratch,did it catch?where are they?doing it/when?where/give in,care.see the 
lights,fantastic,creme de creme,me agnastic.wastic,pretty boy,give it up,give to 
loins.foil man,where's the gerbil?

Copyright © chris bowen | Year Posted 2006