Best Salamanders Poems
WHO IS THE GIANT OF THEM ALL
Animals or humans, who is the giant of them all?
Bearing a two sheathed wings, the Hercules Beetles
crash the Titans (beetle) growing more than six inches.
Down the dirty waterways of China is the Mekong catfish
extending at ten feet, tummy-filled with one
full swallow of a child... Horrible!
Godzilla in Japan's sea is the Nomora Jellyfish!
However, the tipped nightmare fuel
incorporeal spill is not at all hazardous.
Jamison Stone, an eleven year old boy,
killed almost, this wild giant hog of 1051 lbs.
Lizards like the giant Salamanders aren't cute at all--
measuring six feet long: the largest of their kind!
Nuisance to Australia's dangerous wildlife, cane toads,
originally are found in South and Central America!
Power and beauty
quiets all his challengers when Percheron
runs, runs fast in a horse race!
Savory staple is the spider Crab but warning!
Their claws can do some serious damage!
Under a tree, don't be shock of the flying fox:
vampires to sweet-juices of fruits in New Guinea...
Weighing over a ton, Trigger is the cow for truckload of macs!
Xenopos are Cameroon Goliath that can live up to fifteen years.
Yes, humans are tough but compared to these behemoths,
zings we have are just their toys!
______________________________________________________________________
***Source:
http://www.viralnova.com/giant-animals/ and
http://diply.com/different-solutions/20-unbelievably-giant-animals/30768/4
***nightmare fuel - stingray; flying-fox - bat
==Sponsor Name: Broken Wings==
=Contest Name: Trashed #2=
==6th place==
O. E. Guillermo
2:49pm, September 04, 2015
Categories:
salamanders, animal, character, imagery, nature,
Form:
Abecedarian
Not all is lost.
In rotting wood,
where salamanders
hibernate,
creatures plunder
fallen treasures.
Under the garden chair,
a pair
of summer shoes lie -
abandoned?
Not all roses die
when summer goes.
Somewhere a rose
is blooming still,
waiting to be found.
Categories:
salamanders, faith, hope, introspection, life,
Form:
Free verse
Bone Lady.
Pippa Gray
If you have come for romance, please leave.
Follow the fireflies and they will lead you
back through the woods, to your manmade path.
There is no sweetness or solace here.
I am a thunderstorm, a fierce force of nature.
My heart is a patchwork quilt of tattered skins,
Hand stitched with lengths of bloodied sinew.
I shall decline your perfumes and silken robes.
For I have my bones.
I throw them upon my thighs and listen
as they whisper of your future.
The dark to come,
Creeping in through the corners, from all directions,
To disturb the parts of you, that you refuse to examine.
As for necklaces or gold
I have no time for tin trinkets.
My jewels are mustika pearls,
Dug with my hands from the corpses of snakes and foals, from red fox remains and oak tree roots. As I roll them in my palm,
their spirits share secrets such as you'll never know.
There's no polite conversation in this space.
Tell me of your descent into madness,
Where your mind wandered through worlds
not known in your pleasant awareness.
Where your limbs were torn apart by
winged shadow creatures,
Who devoured your flesh.
Do not ask to stay the night.
For salamanders sleep with me,
Gliding through the embers of the fire,
caressing my skin with their warm licking tongues.
And my journeys to the other worlds
are not to be disturbed by lonely, snoring men.
I am not to be rescued or conquered.
For I am vast, unchained...
Indeed, freer than you could ever hope to be!
You there, shrinking, stinking in your self imposed conformity,
while you weep at night for the lost parts of your soul.
They flew, my friend!
To be with the talking swans in the faery glen,
Where they could live the life that they deserved...
I spoke with them in the lowerworld!
And they do not wish to be returned to you anytime soon!
So leave quickly while you can.
Return to the old sprung bed where you were born,
Before you are forever changed
by the reflection in my eyes.
For once awoken,
You can never sleep soundly again.
Categories:
salamanders, magic, mystery, spiritual,
Form:
Free verse
Colonel Sanders
Maybe roasted salamanders
But he got the world finger lickin’
With his recipe for Kentucky Fried Chicken
For Andrea’s contest
Categories:
salamanders, bird,
Form:
Clerihew
dusky
salamanders in the spring
pure water
Categories:
salamanders, spring, water,
Form:
Haiku
Shortly after studying consciousness for a few years, It dawned on me why going with my grandfather to clean our pasture spring was such a strong memory.
grandfather
tossing hat on a branch
kneels
As I watched the brown leaves and small limbs being cleaned out, I dimly understood that this was a kind of truth, which I finally realized a few years ago. Cleaning the spring I felt was similar to clearing the detritus from consciousness to experience the clarity.
red salamanders
clean cold clear water
bubbles from source
Categories:
salamanders, analogy, spring, water,
Form:
Haibun
cleaning the spring
of decaying leaves and branches
clean when you see
blue skies and salamanders
near the bubbling vents
Categories:
salamanders, blue, simple, spring, water,
Form:
Tanka
dawning of a new day
or close of a day already spent
we feel an excitement
matters not, matters not
we are but a passersby
we're here for an instant
and we are gone for an eternity
if we think upon that thought
and let it die slow death
we rob thought of substance
we walk though the quiet forest road
a sense of quiet takes hold
to what used to make us sad
we pause on our journey
find a distorted cypress stump
we sit upon its roots
listening to nature's song
we don't know how we got here
don't know how long we'll stay
we enjoy the moment
we empty our mind
of what used to clutter it
it’s about sincerity
we put pettiness aside
we breathe in earth's perfume
listen to nature's voice
beauty surrounds is ours to behold
mists from slow-moving bayou
the aroma of pine
where salamanders dig
do we believe in God
at times such as this; yes we do
Categories:
salamanders, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
Over where the Delphiniums bloom Cornflower Blue
The Zephyr blows on quiet morns
Then the excited voices come to play
And screams resound in heat of day
Where splashes and laughter
Are common things
Stress disappears
Joy relaxation brings
Children smile with dimples
As water drips from hair
Drenched like salamanders
Once again where Delphiniums live
(Jotted on any available paper)
Categories:
salamanders, childhood, happiness, life
Form:
Rhyme
There are no truly blue flowers.
No, not one.
Hydrangeas or tulips can be green,
an odd color for flowers, I think.
Brown ones are dead.
Brown and green are the colors of human eyes though,
and blue too, but that’s rare as eye color goes.
Almost everyone has two eyes, or at least one.
There are those whose eyes don’t work correctly,
and some unfortunate souls who have none at all.
Every pirate ever known had just one eye.
Yep, just one eye and a black patch.
(I may be wrong about this.)
There are cave creatures,
salamanders and roaches and fish,
that have no eyes at all, and live in total darkness;
evolution has done away with their eyes.
Why would they need eyes if there is no light,
not even that spectacular light from the sun
in fluorescent (which means “shining through”) ribbons
between clouds on stormy days?
There are other eyes too, on potatoes, certain fabrics, needles
(Each needle has one; there are no two-eyed needles that I know of.).
Personally, I have two eyes, both blue,
which see correctly only with assistance.
I often wish I had the third eye in the center of my forehead,
the one that symbolizes a state of
enlightenment, clairvoyance, out-of-body experiences.
However, I’m almost certain I won’t have one in this existence.
Perhaps I will in the next, assuming I’m not reincarnated as
a snake or, even worse, a dung beetle.
But then, I’ve been decent and reasonable most of this life,
so maybe I will have that third eye the next time around.
It’s worth thinking about.
Categories:
salamanders, introspection, blue,
Form:
Prose Poetry
drinking
from a clear spring
with curled fingers
shadowy salamanders
always a poem is coming
Categories:
salamanders, dream, inspiration, poems, water,
Form:
Tanka
Cattails grow up out of my muck
taking root in the mire on my bottom
creeping along in my soft blue clay,
shooting up in long cylindrical spikes
with a velvety fruit, encouraging
red-winged black birds to nest, feed,
caw and quack, at times acting more like
a predator than prey, especially when
local toms creep around the high grass
on my banks, licking their chops, while
bogs of ancient trees decay, discoloring
stagnant water, where frogs, amphibians
and a variety of snakes find places to
burrow. Mosquito larva slip in among
slime and weeds, sparrows hazard making
nests in stumps and reeds protruding in the air
black, green, round and mud snakes lurk
in primal anticipation
of bird brain nest strategies,
although they have a preference for siren
salamanders and small amphibians.
Submerged and floating vegetation fill my shallow
waters, where muskrats and water voles survive
in a primitive atmosphere within shouting distance
of a twenty-first century mall.
Categories:
salamanders, nature
Form:
Iambic Pentameter
There lies a location with an Emerald Doorway
leading to a shared past.
Waiting for it's own children to visit.
We slipped thru the portal again this summer,
Jacquie, I and another child, her son Joe.
Immediately, I sensed decades of joy surrounding us
And heard the echoes of our horses hoofs
tamping down the path.
Undisturbed, the path lay awaiting our return.
Fertile earth delighting to feel our familiar tread..
The ancient beech, carved with our milestones,
stood sentinel over our clearing.
Sunbeams lighted the moss, remembering long
conversations.
Gnarly grapevines dangling memories of our Grasps,
ready to swing over the ravine, into our past.
Inviting us to a smokey treat, flavored by long ago.
A musical voice...the stream, called to our
remembering and our playfulness...
urging us to slide it blue-smooth slate
Among the creatures, salamanders, crayfish and
minnows, staring in wide-eyed wonder at seeing us again.
into our swimming hole, waiting to baptize us in
the wonderment of nature... to carry with us,
Our childhood home.
l
Categories:
salamanders, childhood, growing up, nature,
Form:
Imagism
For the last time I think I've escaped
Your gratutituous number munching
But then as quick as a high-def blink
I'm back in the barn with the cannibals
Flesh mongering mammals
With digits tied to mandibles
Trodding through robotic arenas
Without a finite-sniffing clue
Battery unplugged, feet pressed to rugs
They land proud on towels
Wondering about next meals
What deal could peel back some onion flesh?
Salamanders finance the change
Or simply rearrange the same
Tug boating at a new horizon
Still consuming ghosts and roaches till the end of time
Categories:
salamanders, death, life, parody,
Form:
Free verse
From dawn to dusk I move around,
On the loose sands and gravel mound,
With bare foot and tanned skin
Dry lips and cracked chin,
My drooping eyes and thirsty throat,
Desperately looking for a moat,
Wearing a grubby skirt and mucky blouse,
I am searching for a lake or pond to douse,
I am trudging on the hot sun
Its rays shoots me like a gun,
Even my blood boils to steam,
Blisters and boils all over but no sunscreen
I look scraggy and scrawny
And all my people bony and skinny,
Every day I carry the urn
And walk till my foot burn,
Only to return home with empty pot,
And show my family the outside drought,
The lush green paddy fields,
Now turned to dry brown grass of no yields,
The river banks where we lay,
Became cricket grounds for my friends to play,
The flickering brook where I bath
Has made itself a new foot path,
The mighty ox bow meanders,
Now only for existing salamanders,
Even our stone brick well
Is dry and not well,
The horror nights and hunger fights,
The Morning lights and parched arid sights,
This world looks lifeless, empty and torpid,
The sterile lands stand hot and torrid
My sticky skin wraps my bones,
This skeleton body never dies alone,
I am lying down counting my days
Less spirited and starving to grace
The sand slowly covers by frame
For the scavengers to taste and nothing remains
Though my body fails to be,
My soul will travel underneath to see
The Elixir of life, where it lies?
To quench the thirst of thousand cries
My dear Water! Where are you?
14 April, 2016
Poetry contest
sponsor Laura loo
Categories:
salamanders, water,
Form:
Rhyme