Best Groundhogs Poems
~~~to Believe or not Believe~~~
Groundhogs are liars, they do not know
If Spring is here or there'll be more snow
So remember Groundhog day
They're just in it for the pay
While they put on their prophetic show
for Linda Marie's February Funny Bone contest
Francine Roberts ~~~ 31/01/2012
Categories:
groundhogs, holiday, seasons,
Form:
Limerick
Summer nears its end
racing
through the weeks now passed
with little left to do
the garden
winding down and fading.
Autumn
peeks around the corner
colors teasing on the greens.
Nesting complete
fledglings all gone
nests and birdhouses empty.
The gathering begins
squirrels, groundhogs, chipmunks
beginning to store for winter cold.
Pleasant days await
cooler and colorful etchings
waiting their turn to shine.
Blooms fade
flowers turn to seed
preparations for next spring.
The cycle continues
with patterns of life
renewed and rejuvenated
lagging momentarily
in the holding pattern
to end summer’s stay.
Categories:
groundhogs, change, seasons, summer,
Form:
Pastoral
Gently sloping emerald hills,
Old, gray fences brightened by daffodils,
Majestic trees ready to burst into bloom,
Strangers smiling and waving at me.
That’s my Kentucky.
Gleaming horses peacefully grazing
Behind white fences,
Old, leaning barns speaking of tobbacco and history,
Spring peepers voicing joy by the pond,
Young groundhogs nibbling on new growth,
That’s my Kentucky.
Forsythia blooming against an old log cabin,
Surrounded by ancient maples in red spring splendor,
And the weathered schoolhouse nearby,
boardered by a split rail fence covered in ivy.
That’s my Kentucky.
The quietly rolling Ohio river carries coal
away from these hills in barges,
While a bald eagle turns wide circles above,
Soaring on air curents invisible to me.
That’s my Kentucky.
Along the creek watercress and forget-me-nots are flourishing,
A blue heron stands statue-still on the glittering water’s egdge.
The ancient mill is nestled between the wooded hills,
where the sparkling creek works the creaky wheel.
That’s my Kentucky
Softly swaying cedar trees line roads like tin soldiers,
Decked in fresh, spring green coats,
And underneath velvety violets and glorious bright dandelions
celebrate their life with happy faces.
That’s my Kentucky.
Categories:
groundhogs, happiness, nature, seasons, spring,
Form:
Free verse
Dandelions
" A weed! Stomp it, spray it, eradicate it!"
That is what I hear about Dandelions.
No one wants to see their loveliness,
Think about all the good they can do.
Early in spring they brave the cold, the chilly winds,
Growing in the short new grasses,
Their glowing golden heads held close to the
Protective earth, yet reaching for the sun.
They dot the green meadows with the first color of spring,
My son, as a toddler, brought me a handfull of heads,
To which I replied with a proud smile:
"Oh, thank you, I love them."
Groundhogs, deer and bunnies search them out for the taste,
In a salad they perk us up with their vitamins and give strength,
We make " Honey" with the blossoms and brown sugar.
Soon the bright yellow head turns white,
Seeds grow on a fluffy umbrella.
We pick them, hold them high and blow gently,
Watching each amazing seed float off into the sky,
Like a dream.
Categories:
groundhogs, nature
Form:
Free verse
springtime forecast
groundhogs shadow didn’t last…
day was overcast
Categories:
groundhogs, animals, nature, seasons
Form:
Haiku
Two groundhogs seemed to disagree
And I am not surprised.
It’s hard to do your job
When so intently scrutinized.
Punxsutawney Phil did see
His shadow, and that means
Six more weeks of winter:
Keep those snow-blowing machines!
Staten Island Chuck emerged;
His shadow stayed away.
Those who analyze predict
We’ll soon see spring’s display.
Choose to be an optimist,
Like Staten Island Chuck,
Or focus on the negative:
Let winter run amok.
Either way, the seasons change
As they are meant to do,
Despite the shadows of some rodents
Who don’t have a clue.
Categories:
groundhogs, animals, introspection,
Form:
Rhyme
Since 1886 thousands of people have been traveling to Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania every Groundhog Day to see if they’re in for 6 more weeks of winter or if spring is on its way.
Yesterday Phil the groundhog saw his shadow on his special day…predicting 6 more weeks of winter is about to head our way.
A fun fact: the German’s brought this tradition with them to America with one slight contradiction…In Europe they looked to hedgehogs for their end of winter prediction.
But they couldn’t find hedgehogs in Pennsylvania and, at first, were unsure what to do…
until they noticed Phil and his abundance of relatives and thought…groundhogs will do.
Since then every year people gather in Punxsutawney anticipating the news about their clime…it doesn’t matter to them that Phil’s gets it right only 39% of the time.
I mean come on people if you’re really want to know what nature has in store…turn on the your TV set...that’s what Doppler radar’s for!
No, we tune in to Punxsutawney on Groundhog day not for the magic but the mystique.
because in a world that’s constantly changing it is tradition that we seek.
In a world that’s moving not always in the direction we would like….but always much too fast…we return to our traditions and our ceremonies that remind us of our past.
Perhaps in Phil we see a simpler time, with less responsibilities and woe
when all we had to worry about was the an early spring or a little more winter snow.
As for me I don’t care if Phil is some kind of climate prodigy or if he’s not a weather whiz
Because I live in Florida and in Florida…no matter what Phil sees…
we have no idea what winter is.
Categories:
groundhogs, holiday,
Form:
Rhyme
The clouds are playing games again,
moving quickly by
to reveal a deep dark stormy blue sky.
Fading in and out
they sweep in returning
blocking out the sun's hot burning.
They taunt and tease soft winded
with hint of rain and its faint scent
but as quick it came and it went.
A winter cold but bereft of snow
passed early bringing spring to March
but spring in April is dreadfully parched.
Everything seems to come to early
from nesting birds to groundhogs burly
and chipmunks chasing squirrels in play.
Nature breathes and abounds
here upon this blessed ground
so I won't complain or offer any disdain.
I am happy to see and endure it all
watching it grow in its own theme
creating the garden of my dreams.
Categories:
groundhogs, beauty, garden, life, spring,
Form:
Rhyme
Is everybody ready for that lying little rodent
to crawl out of his hole and predict an early Spring.
It doesn't matter what that liar says.
He's not a meteorologist, he doesn't know a thing.
Groundhogs are the center of attention,
expected to predict the next six weeks.
You might as well just flip a coin
because " he doesn't know of what he speaks".
I think this year we should ignore them.
Find something else to keep us amused.
Pretend you don't care what they predict.
Let their little egos finally get bruised.
I'm tired of these groundhog's promises,
be it Winter or Spring on which we rely.
Every year they make their predictions
and every year they damn well lie.
Categories:
groundhogs, animal, humorous,
Form:
Rhyme
Joy, breathless joy, sings to the robin, spring
Coloring hearts and heavens in wonder
Delighting souls with dazzling hues to bring
Raining light through lives who love the thunder
Despite miracles and peace, the flowers
Spring’s breath silences the glistening kiss
Winter’s echoes evoke pulsing showers
Darkening the dreams – spring isn’t all bliss
Just beyond snow, drizzling over prayers
Thick, murky earth offers dreadful mud baths
Groundhogs whistle while attending affairs
Known by those souls who travel down dirt paths
As we listen to soft cries of songbirds
Spring’s music feels like it’s singing backwards
Spring Is Not All Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Michelle Faulkner
January 30, 2023
Categories:
groundhogs, bird, song, spring,
Form:
Sonnet
When I was but a boy
in the small village of Cold Springs,
I lived near a cantankerous old witch.
At least, that's what the gossip implied she was.
Her name was Almeda Hamilton, and she was a hoarder.
Of course, we knew nothing of hoarders back then
and most everyone thought she was plum crazy.
She'd trap and skin groundhogs and squirrels,
salt their hides and stitch their raw pelts into fur coats.
Pew, you could smell her coming downwind for miles.
She lived off-road in a patch of trees
in a dilapidated cottage crammed with garbage.
The irony is, her father once owed the whole county,
and she was an heiress,
suffering from a severe phobia and mental problem.
Years back, or so the story goes,
her fiancée had left her at the altar,
but her father had built them that house,
and so, she stayed there a recluse.
It was rumored she'd buried hordes of cash,
and when she died, alone in her filth,
her property was potholed by fools trying to find it.
I confess, I felt sorry for her then, and still do,
for the lady got mistreated by the world,
and on its behalf, I apologize.
(Free Verse)
03/18/2020
Categories:
groundhogs, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Free verse
If I were a goundhog I'd bloody well hide.
Groundhogs are just liars, they have no sense of pride.
They said that winter's over and spring is on it's way.
I think those stupid groundhogs were drinking on that day.
Winter isn't over, it just goes on and on.
I think those awful groundhogs perpetrated a con.
It should be open season on groundhogs everywhere.
If I were a groundhog I'd stay inside my lair.
As far as I'm concerned, groundhogs are fair game
And as for their psychic abilities, they are pretty lame.
Those groundhogs got our hopes up to see an early spring
But that is not the case as it is still snowing.
I hate those lying groundhogs, don't trust what they say.
They really have no clue, they're just in it for the pay.
Categories:
groundhogs, animals, funny
Form:
Bold and brazen he comes lumbering across my garden paths
determined to sample my tomatoes, squash,
a cucumber, a broccoli, a pepper or even flower.
That solid, chubby interloper.
Unlike the welcomed chipmunk
who comes cautious and timidly
and makes his way through the undergrowth
to steal away the birdseed and fallen fruit.
The chubby, burly groundhog
hurries to his focal point
my tasty fruiting vegetables
and tastes each at his pleasure
but
with a sudden shout from me
and the bark of my attentive companion
the thief is on the run.
He is gone
disappearing under the fence
through the hole he dug
gone to sample someone else's goods
Categories:
groundhogs, animal, garden,
Form:
Quatrain
Up in the attic
A little bit frantic
Searching through all of the boxes
Where every holiday
Is here on display
Just hoping that I haven't lost it
Every year gone by now
I have saved all the sounds
To pull out when there is a need
And with Christmas right here
I am starting to fear
I've lost that memory
I've found the St. Patrick's day box
Must be my Irish luck
Inside I hear the clinking of glasses
Oh and here's Thanksgiving day
Where inside people pray
Thanking God for all of his blessings
And there's the 4th of July
Where I hear from inside
The sound of fireworks on display
And still I can't find
The box of Christmas time
I hope I didn't give it away
I keep Groundhogs day in a bin
To pull out again and again and again and again
At least until I get it right
And a box of Halloween
Where I hear all the screams
I think I'll leave the lid tight on that fright
Wait, here's a box
As I dust it off
I see the wrapping is fancy and festive
And here don't you know
Is the sound of Ho, ho, ho
Wishing you Merry Christmas
Categories:
groundhogs, christmas,
Form:
Free verse
Placed strategically close
to suburban hedgerows,
elderly backyard mavens
nourish generations of groundhogs.
Daily the grass is seeded
with 'Puffcorn Delites,'
bought wholesale from Costco,
An elderly lady died last year.
I see her at night,
as I take out the trash;
a small possum-like shadow.
The ladies seem to me
to grow more like the marmots,
and I wonder if I will ‘turn’ any time soon.
I think I could live quite comfortably
as a whistle-pig.
I dreamed that the widowed ladies
had put a spell upon our local critters.
By some manner of black-arts
had married themselves to woodchucks
and other medium sized mammals.
The late bewitched Mr. Mason
has dug a cubby hole
from which he peers
myopically each evening.
Archie Smith stays
amid the shrubbery
where he can read
the odd moonlit almanac.
Fred scratches his head
with a rear claw
contemplating eternal vows.
They show up at mealtimes.
Furred paws in tartan slippers
shuffle at back doors.
Herbal tobacco scents night airs.
A grey whiskered fuzziness
permeates the Autumnal evening.
Do I wake or sleep?
The widows lay their heads near
to this enchanted nether land;
snore in harmony
with their nearby furry loves.
All here snuggle close
to the roots of this
mist conjuring season.
Categories:
groundhogs, poetry,
Form:
Free verse