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The Best Give A Hoot Poems

Details | Give A Hoot Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Owl Parliament, Eagle Owl Presiding

Owl Parliament is now in session, so be quiet please.
All whistles, hoots, growls, grunts and screeches need to cease.

As the largest of you all, I’m in charge, you see.
Not to mention, I have killed four warthogs and a monkey!

Sir Snowy thinks we need to show a more united front
to stand against our predators when they are on the hunt.

Why are we killing one another? We’re a dying breed!
There are other birds out there on which we all could feed.

Let’s get to know each other and what makes us so unique.
Miss Elf, our very smallest, I invite you first to speak.

Hello, my fellow owls. As some of you may know,
five inches is about as tall as my kind ever grow.

I’d like to teach you something so you won’t be so inclined
to kill each other or to come after my own kind!

I’ve learned, besides small animals, there’s other stuff to eat.
Fruit, especially prickly pear, can make a yummy treat.

I hope you’ll try to eat some fruit. Seeds are so good too.
And now, my dear friend Pygmy, can we hear from you?

Thank you, Elf. I represent the owl who likes to toot.
And I am not ashamed to say that I don’t give a hoot!

I’ve been asked by Eagle Owl to warn you of some dangers.
Guard your talons and your feathers from some human strangers.

There are some so ignorant, they’ll want to take your eyes
or make of you a broth because your vision they so prize!

We’ve got depth perception, but myths we must dispel.
Since our eyes are tubular, up close we don’t see well.

For our enemies, this can make us easy prey.
But our hearing is so good, it can save the day.

What we hear is magnified times ten. My fellow owls,
I have to say we are the best compared to other fowls.

But beware. We’re also seen as bad luck. Simply for
misconceptions (all man-made), they’d nail us to their door.

I give the floor to Eagle now. A mighty owl is he.
As cunning as a hawk, he shows us all how we can be.

Thank you, Pygmy. I now have a few more parting words.
Barn owls, true owls, all of you are such fantastic birds.

Please realize that other owls are not your enemies,
but rather fences, pesticides, and tearing down of trees.

The humans have endangered us, yet still they find us cute.
Be wise. If caught by one of them, just give a tiny hoot.

I’ve seen the humans ooh and ah just to hear our sound.
We’re a bird that most of them would like to have around.

So never fear. With your big eyes, just sweetly blink and coo.
Then do that swivel with your neck that we all like to do.

They’ll be like putty in your talons. I am sure of that.
I bet we could become the pet to supersede the cat!

This meeting is adjourned. I hope that all owls will unite
to truly be what we are known for; wise ones of the night.

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2016

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The Perfect Painting

I could not refrain from asking what it was that made her sigh
When each picture that she started she took down. I wondered why.
The young lady was forthcoming; said her thoughts were fresh and bright
Every time she started painting nothing seemed to turn out right.
Then she glanced at my own painting and declared that it was great
She remarked I found it easy to imagine and create.
Well, I smiled and softly told her that it was my special brush
That afforded all the wonders; careful handling with no rush.
So I told her she could use it, to be gentle for a start
Till they reached synchronization so that both could play their part.
What about the other brushes? Do not fret or give a hoot
Mine will be the instigator, all the rest will follow suit!
I went off to have a breather while she went to work anew
Gave her time to get on with it then returned exact on cue.
I could see her face was radiant and her work intense yet cool 
She expressed appreciation at my most fantastic tool.
I will let you on a secret; I have played a hidden card
For my brush is only normal. You were trying just too hard!
You can paint, you have it in you. To your talent be not blind.
As you see there is no magic; it was only in the mind. 
So good luck with your endeavours. Some advice, precise and brief
You can make the perfect painting; all you need is self belief.


Note: This poem was written to pass on a message to all those who 
         suffer from low esteem. Self-belief is the way forward.

Author: Paul Callus
Contest (Favourite Poem...) sponsored by Carol Eastman
Placed: 1st

Copyright © Paul Callus | Year Posted 2014

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The Owl and the Coyote

A lonesome coyote howled deep in the wood
And a MOST unwise owl somehow misunderstood
Oh, alas and alack!
She rashly hooted back
(And she hooted as hard as she possibly could)

"Who the heck heeds my howl, for god's merciful sake?
Could this perhaps be my potential life mate?"
..."Give a hoot who you hoot at
if you don't know just who 'dat
You hoot at!" screeched the owl a wee bit too late

The gossip that followed defied explanation!
Squirrels scolded scathing and righteous damnation
The eagle screamed from his peak
"Don't even show us your beak!"
(An owl with a tarred and feathered reputation)

The coyote's good name turned muddy and mucky
Rumor spread like the plague so he never got lucky
"Your character is fowl"
Hitting up on an owl?"
(Last I heard he migrated to Kentucky)

Copyright © Tim Ryerson | Year Posted 2012

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Daylight Robbery

Last night I stole a little - from time.
Don’t worry he’s got plenty on his hands
You could call it daylight robbery, but that wouldn’t be strictly correct, since
It occurred on the first of spring, at a minute past midnight. 
But it’s really only semantics – isn’t it?

Oh I intend to give it back, but not until fall, I promise you that.
So for now, I intend to give it to those who 
Hate waking to insipid mornings but instead, 
Prefer the comfort of a long, alluring evening…

Time still has enough on his hands of course
To wake me in the usual way, the additional
Daylight finding gaps in my louvered blinds, it
Finds me; blinding me with stripes, a colouring of 
Dusty motes with that angelic silver
A sliver of morning’s grace piercing my sheets

But the mornings are for birds…
And they don’t give a hoot about what was stolen.
Oh there are plenty of people who wake up to that inky blackness
Or even that rusty red, that bleeds all over the horizon
Oh they’re definitely not receivers of stolen goods, 
Simply lovers of a pantomime, albeit in the morning.

She is one of those lovers… My wife Bronwyn, 
A Welsh name to match her pale pearlescent skin.
Skin like perfect porcelain, that’s not in 
Need of the proceeds of thievery.

Bronwyn stands over me now, the daylight interrupted
My slivers of dust broken
My colourful stripes stolen
Grace no longer piercing my sheets
Instead a finger piercing me…
“Get up!”

I did get up, for I needed to 
Spend a little of the proceeds from my crime
Let the morning unwind naturally, feel the hush of 
Time press upon my skin, when the sun is at its zenith
And ease into the evening like sliding into a warm bath…

John Lawless’s Poetry Contest – Saving Daylight
14 February 2015

Copyright © Mark Trichet | Year Posted 2015

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Where do I come from

From my mother's womb I yelled into the room,
mattress on the living room floor,
my bro I replaced as the youngest, his face
as he screamed and ran out through the door.
I tell you (no fooling) my years of hard schooling
I'll remember as long as I live
Johnny Cash got it right sometimes you gotta fight
but my name isn't Sue, it is Viv.
My first crush was Joy, she beguiled the boys
with her cool attitude and demeanour,
but in the school yard I didn't try very hard
and lost out to Nigel who was keener.
My senior school was a boy's own affair,
all mortarboards, chalkdust and gowns,
atmosphere never placid, like Hogwarts on acid
at home it took hours to come down.
Exams taken and passed and so onwards at last
out into the big wide world of work,
how well did I do at my first interview
I'm surprised that they'd take on a jerk.
After six years of grammar that felt like the slammer
with no females on a daily basis
this place was Nirvana I tried to keep calmer
in this female infested Oasis.
For a short while I waited then finally dated
the friend of a colleague, named Ruth,
wedding plans from her lips, I took fright and jumped ship
I was too immature, that's the truth.
From there my next job for an extra few bob was in warehousing,
driving fork trucks,
stacks of pallets to lift on horrendous night shifts
but to honest I didn't give a hoot.
I was by then resolving with my problem solving
to find me a niche in I.T,
nine to five, air conditioned, needing no permission
to break for a smoke and a tea.
Nine years flew by me and also my family,
my mother began to be ill
I quit work and stayed home, looked after her alone
watching sadly as she went downhill.
She finally went and as was her intent I care for my youngest today,
these trials we have to bear, no-one said life was fair
but I won't have it any other way.
The good lady's poorly and sometimes I'm sorely
being tested, but I keep good cheer,
the days may seem long but I cannot go wrong-
I've got Poetry, music and beer.

For contest 'where are you from', sponsor Joseph Soper

Copyright © Viv Wigley | Year Posted 2017

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For Those Who Love Love

Those who love love Put up your hands Wow! There sure are a bunch of you guys I knew there was a lot of you But this is totally amazing Saw one lady who didn't raise her hand But she was holding a bag of groceries in one arm And a sweet wee babe in the other But I did hear her yell, “I do!” So if everybody loves love Then how come there's still so much strife Is it because we get all wrapped up in stuff Superficial stuff that we shouldn't give a hoot about But because of all the negativity present Small things tend to annoy us And when they're all added up They become a difficult mountain to climb Take heart all my dear dear friends I have the answer... attitude! Yep, it's as simple as that so give it a shot And let this old guy know how it works out for you! © Jack Ellison 2014

Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2014

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The World Cup

The world's abuzz with soccer
Though I couldn't give a hoot.
I wouldn't even have a clue
For which team I should root.

The bars are packed with rousing fans;
I don't begrudge their cheers,
But I prefer a tennis match
To savor with my beers.

I'd also watch the Yankees play
'Cause baseball's what I know,
Though baseball-haters claim the game's
Inordinately slow.

So while the teams do battle
With the World Cup as the prize,
I'll find a book or other show
To occupy my eyes.

Copyright © ilene bauer | Year Posted 2014

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poor cinderella 
her pumpkin coach was delayed
castle clock struck twelve
once again a chamber maid
the handsome prince was dismayed

she was dressed in rags
her glass slippers were old boots
her hair a disgrace
the prince didn’t give a hoot
he knew that beautiful face

so? what did he do?
i’ll not give you the answer
it is up to you
please write an ending, dear friend
to my comments then please send 


Copyright © daver austin | Year Posted 2014

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country boy!

i'm a country boy,
as country as can be;
i'm barefoot when i go to church,
don't give a hoot 'bout society!

i sleep naked in the back yard,
go skinny dippin' in the lake;
when i use the outhouse,
the ground's gonna quake!

i eat with both hands,
possum, squirrel, an' ****;
cook 'em on an open fire,
an' use my fingers as a spoon!

bouncin' rocks off turtle shells,
sippin' moonshine from a jug;
sweet as a store bought teddy bear,
it's okay to give me a hug!

i love my thermal underwear,
they're red, with a cute lil' flap;
i'll curl up in the chicken coop,
for a long afternoon nap!

i ain't much for fightin'
but i don't take no crap;
if you push me in a corner,
get ready for a scrap!

forget that bottled water,
i'm drinkin' from a well;
next time you're in the country,
stop and visit for a spell!

Copyright © Milton Toran | Year Posted 2010

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Guess he was ninety years old
Had a cat that died, so we were told
Accordin to dad, his name was Ralph
And old Ralph liked to talk to his self
He sat on the porch every day
Watchin people pass along the way
Old Ralph was so old his wrinkled skin
I would swear was fallin off of him
One day I got close enough to hear
Some gargled talk, “Oh, my Tabby dear.”
My Tabby dear was his old dead cat
I’m smart enough to figer out that
I spose he talked to others too
But no one that my daddy knew
People listened then hurried along
Shakin their head at the old ding dong
Postman told me old Ralph’s day was past
Even dead old Tabby gone at last
No one left for this lonsome old coot
I guess no one really give a hoot
Porch now is empty, sign on the door
Ralph won’t be freakin people no more
Dad says he’s up in heaven somewhere
Hope lonesome old Ralph finds Tabby there

Dave Austin

Copyright © daver austin | Year Posted 2014

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The Clock is Ticking

The Clock is Ticking What a sad state of affairs Seems that no one in Washington cares The politicians know that they stink to high hell Yet they continue to do nothing to lessen the smell What happened to compromise as a possible solution? What happened to “country first” as the proper resolution? It would seem that those we elected to serve Put their individual party needs as those that deserve The next election is all they give a hoot about And they are deaf to the protests no matter how loud we shout But with the streets full of those taking exception The ground swell of protest takes on a new powerful direction Deaf dumb and blind the politicians may be today But the time is coming when they won’t have their way What they are doing to this country is a crime and that is a fact For destroying it from within is a treacherous act The choice is ours and we must take charge of our fate Act know, speak out before it’s too late. ©Copyright Charlie Gragg December 13, 2011

Copyright © Charles Gragg | Year Posted 2011

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Musings Of A Wise Old Owl

Mused the owl roosting on a pine tree shoot,

   "My colleagues think I'm not very astute,

       But I wisely perch in pines,

          Not on hot transmission lines!

             If they singe their butts I don't give a hoot!"

Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2014

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Attorneys and Online Games

Was at a hearing with my attorney
She was more childish than Bert and Ernie
     Played I-Pod video games
     My anger sure was in flames
Years had passed since I began this journey

But my sexual harassment lawsuit
Totally ignored by this pompous coot
     Ordering shoes online
     Forgetting this case of mine
It was clear she just didn’t give a hoot

My suit’s outcome would have been much better
If I had hired an Irish Setter
     Her actions were criminal
     My settlement minimal
In my next novel I’ll surely get her

She had predicted I would get much more
My dignity she never did restore
     As she won her online game
     My harasser escaped blame
Lawyers and video games I abhor

*Based on a true experience!
Entry for Natalie’s “Cell Phones in the Sauna – What Annoys You” contest

Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2011

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I Wish I Were Nicolas Cage

Well, he's goofy and gangly and thin up on top
And his real last name once began with a "Cop"
But I don't give a hoot about all of that
'Cause his box office draw's made his wallet grow fat.

If you listen quite closely to how this bloke talks
And you then watch how oddly he lists when he walks
Why, you'd think to yourself he'd be good as a clown
But I'm not trying here to just put the man down.

He's admitted that comics were where he got "Cage"
And his movies have made that fake name all the rage.
I've not kept a close count on how many there are,
But I tell you, my brothers, his fame extends far.

See, he's got this charisma that can't be denied
Plus a talent for acting that's as high as it's wide.
And he likes to take risks, gotta respect him for that,
Using methods that sometimes will end up falling flat.

One is called, NOUVEAU SHAMANIC, a phrase all his own,
And, then, WESTERN KABUKI, at which you might groan.
So his style's informed by the books that he reads
And he'll work it to death, or until it just bleeds.

It's a high wire act but with no safety net;
His unwavering panache makes me jealous, you bet.
Though I've tried my damned best to perform like this jock
On the set I'm as lame as a bump on a rock.

See, I've wanted to act since I was in 5th Grade
But allowed time to pass, maybe one whole decade
Before trodding the boards once again on the stage
So far back in the days when there was no Nick Cage.

I was hamming it up before Nick changed his name
Unsuccessfully striving to get in the game.
But to date Central Casting is as far as I've gone;
About all I've done there is to camp out on their lawn.

So I've hatched me a plan, will you please hear me out?
Take the shillings you're saving for Nick's latest flick
And, instead of enriching that overgrown lout
Send them here to yours truly, and best make it quick.

Copyright © Roderick Molasar | Year Posted 2015

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Steal This Poem Please

Steal This Poem Please 

Please just steal this poem
and make this one your own
in plagiarizing poetry
you know you're not alone

If you think it's worth that much
you know what you should do
don't worry about the copyright
just say it's penned by you

Please just steal this poem
and publish it to boot
spread it round the nations
I don't give a hoot

Spend your time and trouble
making money with my work
So one day I can sue you
for all that you'll be worth
by JT Curtis  (maybe ? )

Copyright © Jerry T Curtis | Year Posted 2014

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Drink Your Coffee Black

I’m telling you it’s much too cold out, honey. It seems like you don’t give a hoot about me. Is it really important you need cream for your coffee? The snow that’s fallen is quite deep. Can’t you see? Why can’t you do like me and drink your coffee black? It’s cold enough out there to give me a heart attack. We are going through a whopper of a cold spell. Not only is it cold, it’s also windy as hell. I take one step outside, and I will instantly freeze. Besides, black coffee has far fewer calories.

Copyright © Robert Pettit | Year Posted 2014

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My Woodland Of Togetherness

I love this woodland of togetherness, where the branches reach out, entwine 
pull and lull me in. Where the sunlight bisects the canopy, falling in shards of 
love, kissing each leaf in its effortless fall. The absorbent floor soaks of moss, 
lichen and fern in a peace far from the chainsaw of reality. Indications of life 
surround  in a cloak of serenity, the bark of deer, the scampering of 
cottontails, the gruff grunting of wild boar not always seen but their presence 
felt in eerie shadows. I walk the glitters and glistens of cobweb lace, take the 
quiet in eager gulps awash in the grace of growth. The watching eye of wise Owl 
looks as if to say you lucky bastard, blinks and could not give a hoot. I parade 
in happiness and content dismissal of the inane world outside natures blanket, 
for I have seen the effects of of the two legged beast with his devouring heart, 
full of greed and broken promises. No this is the pace I wish to bear, carry for 
the rest of my natural days, where the seeds are scattered idyllic by a soft and 
gentle hand. I will tread silently this woodland created by time and tranquillity 
and try to avoid the guilt of disturbance.

Copyright © Daniel Cheeseman | Year Posted 2010

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The Sugar Maple Tree

I awake from winters slumber
As my sap begins to flow
My buds will shortly sprout
While my limbs begin to grow

I watch the many animals
That start to come around
To some I am a gym
While others lay quite sound

The birds will make their nest
In my many boughs
The weave each little nest
With great skill it's quite a show 

I've stood the test of time
As the seasons come and go
When summer comes I'll be
The shade that you love so

There used to be some children
Who would climb my sturdy limbs
They'd play all day around me
Their joy to me were hymns
When fall comes to pass
I put on my favorite suit
With reds oranges and yellows
The owl will even give a hoot

My sap is what I'm famous for
It taste so sweet when boiled down
I tell you just one sip of it
Will make a smile right from a frown

Now When my days are through
My journey still goes on
I may become a bedstead
Or a table for someone

Someone may yet use me
For a ceiling or a floor
You see my wood is prized
For many things even a door

But now I will just stand here
For everyone to see
The majesty and wonder
Of me the Sugar Maple tree

Created 7/21/15 for the Trees Personified contest


Copyright © Charles Reese | Year Posted 2015

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Mad as a Hornet

I’m mad as a hornet, which means mad as hell,
Cause somebody’s saying I write too “cliché.”
Well, I’ve had it to here. Now can’t you tell?
I don’t give a hoot what he has to say!

So what if I’m not some snot’s cup of tea?
I’ll write however I want, for Pete’s sake!
He doesn’t know beans! Good for nothing is he.
I’ll just tell that nut to jump in a lake.

He says that my imagery is not unique,
Yet meanwhile, that no-talent writes for the birds!
Like a hole in the head, I need his critique!
He best watch his back, and them’s fightin’ words.

His high lofty thoughts - I need none of those.
In fact, I will shove them all up his nose!

(Just being silly, but this was fun)

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2015

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The country of my birth. Beautiful in youth. Wrinkled as the years pass by. Through no fault of hers. But by the doing and undoing of her children, consciously and unconsciously.
Blessed by God. Impoverished by mankind.
Struggling for self-liberation but incarcerated by wicked and egoistic souls. Souls who prefer to squander and milk the nation today with the goal of enjoying life and securing the future of their lineage.

Everytime I read the dailies, the thought of what might have been makes it all the more pathetic. A nation whose citizens should ‘swim’ in milk and honey. Whose name should be revered  amongst the comity of nations. But for the myopic  thinking of our  leaders – past and present – we are where we find ourselves; in the woods. The genesis started with their actions and inactions.
Directly or indirectly, the fault is ours to bear. Forget colonization. Forget its offshoot, neo-colonization. We can be what we want to be. Fortune favours the prepared. 

A weak giant.
Clueless leaders.
A country with no respect for history.  For the rule of law.
Whose citizens are permeated with a brief memory span.

How can looters still have the temerity to contest elections after their misdeeds some years ago! And people will vote!
Another election is forthcoming; we will forget the ordeals of the past. And vote these insatiable, power-hungry, monstrously greedy, sinister people called ‘leaders’ into power!
Posterity will judge. If it can’t, then God.

Girls are being kidnapped. Maybe raped and dehumanized. Students are on strike and the government does not give a hoot. Some governors are forever enriching themselves by passing bills that will pay them billions of taxpayers’ hard-earned funds. Pensioners are being owed. Poverty is on the increase. Unemployment too.  Crime. Name them.
All these in a sane country!

Until our ‘leaders’ are stopped from travelling abroad to treat headaches. 
Until a law is passed mandating their children to school in public institutions.
 Until every politician is made accountable for every kobo spent.
Until the  rule of law is supreme.
Until our votes count…
Things will sure fall apart in this country.

Copyright © ENO EMMANUEL | Year Posted 2015

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Paper Or Plastic, Sir

Standing in line at Wally-world I suffered through this exchange of views.
The cashier asked the man in front of me, "Which of these will you choose?
Paper or plastic for you, sir?" and with a snarl he said, "Plastic will do for me!"
Then he proceeded to proclaim for all to hear, the plight of the forest tree!

"Don't you know that cuttin' down all them trees will leave the forests bare,
Deprivin' them poor hooty owls of a place to roost - now don't you really care?
Just think of them dwindlin' rain forests that supports monkeys, birds and such!
But them greedy companies keep cuttin' and sawin' - they're so outta touch!"

The gum-chewing cashier looked him dead in the eye and had this to say:
"My old man has been a lumberjack fer twenty years and works hard fer his pay!
I don't give a hoot about yer owls, yer rain forests or yer ring-tailed monkeys!
I ain't politically correct and you can relay that to all yer tree-huggin' junkies!"

I clutched my loaf of Wonder bread trying to look nonchalant, staring into space.
(We were in an express lane - he had two full carts, showing his lack of grace!)
Should this get out of hand I expected to hear, "Cleanup on Express Lane Five!"
I was beginning to wonder if both parties were apt to come out of this alive!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved

Placed No. 4 in Susan Burch's "Paper Or Plastic" Contest - March 2012

Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2012

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The Eagle, the Dove or the Turkey - Which Bird

The Eagle, the Dove or the Turkey: Which Bird?

In January 1784 Benjamin Franklin said,
That “The bald eagle…[was] of bad moral character”; 
Called him poor, lousy and a thief, validated the turkey,
Which, he said, was “a true original native of America."

Although the turkey’s eaten at Thanksgiving, 
And every American should appreciate their life,
It’s beginning to be enjoyed at Christmas time,
About which some religions don't give a hoot, and are not acting.

The dove traditionally signs for peace,
And forever will, all things being said,
And although America is a superpower,
It is not to me, and never will be, the world’s head.

Even though Russia just now is playing with power,
And America may be valid as interacting with it,
The United Nations for me is the force,
To call the shots for how governments should sit.

To me, America, stands for all people,
Any person can emigrate and find a life,
Because its weak and vulnerable are nurtured,
To get a challenge out of strife.

The bald eagle for me, with its wide and large nest,
Should be the symbol of America, with its Great Seal approval,
Because it says to me just anyone has stance,
By that pure white head which its brown body does enhance.

Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2015

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I'm a Georgia Southern Belle

I am from Georgia, and am a real Southern belle,
I love to be on the front porch with iced tea, and sit a spell.
My hair has to be just so before I go out,
And my makeup is one thing I never go without.

I say “Ya’ll,” and “I’m fixin” to go…
It’s the grammar of a Southern belle you know.
I say “Please,” “Thank you Ma’am,” and “Oh shoot,”
And if you don’t like me, I don’t give a hoot!

Contest 213 Any Form, Any Topic Max of 10 lines
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Awarded 10th Place

Copyright © Brenda McGrath | Year Posted 2016

Details | Give A Hoot Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Be an Eco-friendly Vehicle and I'll ride you to the moon

I think the car companies have done pretty good.
By making cars with something better under the hood.

Just try to imagine what they drove back in nineteen twenty.
I’ll bet you wouldn’t be seen in that today for love nor money.

In our cars we can travel from coast to coast; 
without praying to the father, the son, and the holy ghost.

You know saving our planet shouldn’t be just a one way street
Why don’t we all pipe down, and get off our lazy little seat

Or we could all just preach to the choir like Jimmy Fallon.
Still waiting for the days of one hundred miles to the gallon.

I say put your money where your mouth is;
turn it around on them, and  don’t give them the bizz.

If you’re at home go and sit outside.  
When where you’re going is close; walk it don’t ride.

Think of all the money you’ll get to save and feel healthier too.
When we play our part the planet will keep its riches, and the Earth will thank you.

Yeah, who wouldn’t like a car that got three times the gas mileage, and didn’t pollute.
Instead of complaining about the way things are;  lets all show we really give a hoot.

My entry in Robb A. Kopp's contest 
    "Eco-friendly Vehicles"  

Copyright © Edwin Baldwin | Year Posted 2011

Details | Give A Hoot Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Who cooks for you

“Who cooks for you?”
asked the Bard.

Who prepares your meal?
Do you sup alone?
Any condiments?
Salt perhaps?

What are you hungry for?
What appeals to your taste?

When you rise in the morning,
What do you desire?
Is it even food?

Or do you look to satisfy something else?
For what do you hunger?

But aside from all that
Who cooks for you?
Whatever it is you desire,
wherever you may roam,
Who paved the way?
Who set the table?
Who made it possible for you
to breathe,
to laugh,
to cry,
to despair.
to hope,
to love,
to live,
to die…?
Do you even give a hoot?

Who preparest a table for thee
in the presence of thine enemies?

So the Barred h-owls his haunting cry,
“Who cooks for you?”

Copyright © Mark Hounsell | Year Posted 2016