Best Yelps Poems
“A Flowers Wilt”
Witness the small existence
that abides the beauty of-----------
Freelancers all around,
Just to get a good look.
A baneful abrasion, the flower took
It captivates you -------------
Reels you, steals from you,
WAITING,
Until you pick the right flawless touch.
Dandelions swaying thin,
Here we fall like petals.
Ready to exploit, the beauty of-------
Inhale the fragrance,
Courtyard azure eyes,
Embarking in a wishful eternity,
A crush they become, when loveliness up and left.
A bully against arrogant threw feminine perfumed veils
Tulips waiting for the better auspicious sky
Asters claim the eclipse's,
-dinginess censors it from the brilliance of the sun.
~
A lonely rose
In My Helix World-
The out-and-out are born.
Cries in the dimness,
A sweet Lotus echo
Slight yelps of agony carried off by pollen breeze.
The earth revolves to fast,
Injections of herbal essence in the wind
For a split second, we feel pixie dust
Channel the essential, it fades
Earlier beauty, calmness-
A flourish smile,
Rusk of flower, a bluebird’s bread.
Like candles and dew, they stream and limber energy
Opposing others of its humanity,
Against the command of its importance,
Pierced by its own elegance,
Thriving slowly of its own will,
A short story, gone astray!
Tonight, we plant a tree,
The Flower wilts
The gardener cries
Categories:
yelps, art, beauty, birth, care,
Form:
Free verse
Forest fairies changing colors,
autumn's patchwork pattern weaving
in the foggy morning stillness
before winter's barren grieving,
up the river on the damp air,
up hollows through the shadowed vales
sounds the mournful, sobbing whistle:
once more memory rides the rails.
Childhood song for railroad watchers -
a tinge of hobo in my veins,
longing for the lonesome whistle
like a lost child for his name.
Life began beside the railway,
an open door to fantasy;
my dreamer's soul soaked in the flavor
hearing that whistle witchery.
Hungry tramps in search of breakfast
found our doorstep every time;
hobo network communication
marked mama's eggs and bacon "fine."
Bleary eyes and beards all stubble
made child imaginations fly
and the tales with which we clothed them
were wilder still than hobo lies.
Oh, for the days when trains were magic:
iron dragons breathing smoke and fire,
lashing long tails through the valleys
with monstrous strength that never tired.
Oh, the secrets that were hidden
behind the doors of plain boxcars;
feel the untamed urge to mount them
and plunder treasure from afar.
Delight was ours beyond measure
to waken on those special days,
finding, in the night, the dragon
had brought the circus train our way.
See the bearded lady waving
and catch the fat man's twinkling eye,
smell the coal smoke's pungent flavor
beneath our magic big top sky.
Grown up am I; steam train magic
comes swirling by once in a while
to view autumn's fleeting pageant
and make train lovers like me smile.
Nostalgic, rhythmic beating,
staccato yelps and sobbing wails
make my soul a mental hobo;
once more memory rides the rails.
Copyright, 2000
Faye Lanham Gibson
Categories:
yelps, america, childhood, memory, nostalgia,
Form:
Rhyme
Baby brother, your naughty smile entices
A chuckle ringing through the night,
While those eyes blue wink like stars
That I'm pretty sure , we are alike...
If Aunt Nora pinches those rosy cheeks
Yes, I'd whack her leg, she'll never know-
For now, you're saying, let's peek-a- boo
As moon face jiggles up and down,
Till Mama yelps, 'No, our babe might toot gas!'
And peachy feet, they would outgrow mine,
Then we’ll ride on airy coastlines
Sharing guy secrets and watching the girls--
Maybe, hug one or two in Dad's bike
That's what your laughter implies...
O you giggle, mouth without teeth yet;
Not to worry, I am sneaking yummy jello...
Eat that quick! It's all over your bald head
We'll make it look like soap bubbles--
As the hero, I'll tell our parents, the milk
Flushed through the crib...You agree, snickering,
Naughty brother, we have more pranks to go!
Baby Face What's You THINKIN Contest
Sponsor: James Edward Lee Sr.
Visual C 1/19/2019
Categories:
yelps, brother, child, fun,
Form:
Light Verse
A nobody
Scared by the sound of his own voice
Following the girl home from school
In his mind this is normal
Stalking girls
He grabs her jacket
Pulling her backwards unto the ground
Placing a cloth around her nose and mouth
Gagging her until she sleeps for a while
He drags her through the woods
Branches hitting her every which way he turns
Dragging her along until he reaches the cabin
Picking her up over his shoulders opening the door to the cellar
Locking the door behind him he walks down the stairs slowly
He places her on a chair and ties her wrist to the handles
Tying her feet to the legs of the chair
Tightening the rope around her neck to the back of the chair
He undresses her waiting for her to wake up
Several hours pass
She wakes up
Sweating and screaming
Crying and yelling at him
He places duct tape around her mouth
Placing a knife against her stomach
She groans and yelps
He takes the knife away and looks at her
Grabbing her face and telling her shes beautiful
He turns around and stands with his back towards her
As he starts to say
But its the beautiful people that need fixing
He takes the tape off her face and holds her chin tightly
He carves a smile on her face
Cutting her mouth from ear to ear
Telling her
Smile dear it makes you adorable
He grins and sits the knife down
Laughing as she bleeds
She tries to move her mouth
It just drops open
He looks at her smiling
Now that makes you truly beautiful
He leaves her there for a while
Later returning
Placing a needle with a string attached to it
Sticking it into the skin around her mouth that is hanging open
He stitches her back together
Cant make up his mind
He slaps her and leaves her there for another few days
She sits with her eyes peeled wide open
A tear falling as she tries wiggling her hand free from the rope
As she frees her hand she runs her fingers over her stitches
Only to find out her whole mouth has been stitched together
She cant speak
She can only mumble
She frees the rest of her limbs
Trying to stand up and walk but she's to weak and falls
He runs down the stairs
Yelling at her to get up
She doesn't move
He kicks her in the stomach
She doesn't budge
He picks her up and uses her as a puppet
For his own needs
He then buries her beside his other victims
Only to find out shes still alive
Her hand slips through the dirty old mud
5-28-2013
Categories:
yelps, absence, abuse, addiction, angel,
Form:
Lyric
The bees buzzed as they always did
and storms receded.
Silence hushed itself inside a shell.
Jackrabbits hopped away from hell
still intoxicated.
The village swarmed with threats.
Honest men could no longer
make their way. Poets payed
their debts for being who they were;
blessed, and afraid.
Wives bled, chasing phantoms in the
snow. "Art's no consolation."
Husbands crept along their spikes
of faithlessness. Rabbits left.
High in space their conscience burrows.
He drags along his skinny guest;
terrific, bleeding & uncouth.
Mercy equates with Obesity -
"Let me bulge and burst my longing!
Make me fatter than the fattest Truth."
A woman yelps, "I like a good romantic"
and so she laughs and feigns forget.
"Be like the constant nights of snow."
But when the orchards raze themselves to bone -
he pays attention to her neglect.
Ponies stall. Apollo's thief was
phony. Hope is tall and all his
hollow follies, "Entertain the queen!"
somehow like a burning house afloat
with sediment & gasoline.
_"Is all my life in vain? The puppets
with their masquerading calls -
do they see me, twisting nettle,
knucklecutted at midnight, precious,
unseen like a fete with no stall?"_
"Ah, but you've met in Life's divining mirror
the very ladder of your beauty's fall.
Yet still in abstinence, still in nothingness
along the ridge of this exquisite loneliness -
crawl."
Categories:
yelps, love, sadme,
Form:
Axe the old Don, a trump peter n piper
of incredulous hellish crud - be gone
ha air brushed pompous ****
Sunkist in Macy's window
then like a jackal hound, he doth run
after public outcry yelps
for his hide leaving
proletarian discord re: pyrrhic victory won.
Donald Duck Trump ™$ - a pompous ass
makes war with his big brass
knuckles and bucket of crass
maligns vis a vis character assassination
while kissing thing kith
darting forked tongue sharp as bro kin glass
inciting banal deathly hallowed
expletives toward lass
sees – especially Fox Television
news anchor woman Megyn Kelly
(quite so many ill mannered indiscretions ago)
inducing said personality
to bear the brunt of brutish mass
of vitriolic n vile insults sacrilegiously
maliciously, noxiously, opprobiously
incriminating, hellaciously,
desecrating opportunistically as hiss oh piss
so…NO amp pull VOTE of confidence from me
(thus far ohm host halfway to 2020 election
toward such a volt char quite rude, snooty
arrogant simian with sass.
I van (terribly hard pressed)
to describe while sitting on me rump
how he oh bomb in lee rages
gnashing false teeth
Wilma backside doth slump
still blasting Democratic nomination
(pa hill a reed) as sham –
from special interest bro and sis turn pump
he, the epitome of
crass bloviation, a malignant lump
whose rants,
sans presidential outcome a shame
bullying with his millions beds this,
that and another woman to bareback jump
disseminating gene pool
birthing more Quakers
and additionally doth hump
the mass media as some foolhardy charade
and caricature of a frazzled grump
this arboreal clothed ape erected Taj Mahal
phallic symbol, where players dump
and gamble away hard earn cash
for his kitty, as if that cachet
to grind and bump
lambasting with maniacal
like "Stormy Dan" yells
leering oafish ill pout
while hair rum
(of red follicular) bulls ad hocks
atop his bulbous aerosol sprayed locks
resemble a flock
of bronzed sea gulls mocks
heady measly shaped Muppet Ox
dis eased cranial hologram shocks
of a cretaceous, facetious tocks
(sic) exogenous, insidious, and obstreperous vox.
Categories:
yelps, 12th grade, abuse, anger,
Form:
Imagism
III.
But I had a much higher purpose now,
damned or not, I would serve the True God,
for thirty years I served with my brothers,
upon a humble path I faithfully trod.
Maybe I wasn’t a miracle worker,
though I saved lost pilgrims in my time,
age etched lines in my brothers’ faces,
but it had no effect upon mine.
The abbot swore newcomers to secrecy
about the truth of my vampiric fate,
and I guess I believed I’d just go on
serving an eternity in this way.
But one day as the sun started to set,
I looked out upon a terrible sight:
A small girl running, screaming in fear
as a wolf closed on in for a bite.
I hesitated for just a moment,
the sun was high enough that I would burn,
but the terrified cries of a five-year old
were not something from which I could turn.
I sprinted out with unnatural speed,
instantly my skin erupted in flames,
raced past the girl, thrust my burning hand
to the wolf with jaws of snapping rage.
The fire seared both myself and the beast,
with frantic yelps of pain he then ran off,
I staggered back, my pale skin burned to black,
bits of flesh had flaked off and were lost.
I made it back to the small gatehouse
and I collapsed in the shadows within,
the abbot ran close, with my fading strength
I weakly tried to say goodbye to him.
But he just looked down, said,”We need blood.
Run to the chapel and fetch me the wine!”
A brother raced off, returned with the jug,
made no sense to my greatly pained mind.
He filled a chalice, look to the Heavens,
said,”Lord, I know that I am no priest.
But if he must die, let him drink of Your blood,
let him take part at last in Your mercy.”
I felt this would be a fitting way to die,
burned by the holy blood of my Lord.
But when I drank I did not feel the fire,
in fact I didn’t feel pain anymore!
I didn’t see it myself, but they say
that the charred skin beat a fast retreat,
and through the haze I managed to feel
a deep breath and a steady heart-beat!
When I sat up the sun came through a window
and it fell harmlessly upon my skin,
I felt true hunger, thirty years overdue,
by His power I once more was human!
They said In Him All Things Are Possible,
and I suppose I am the living truth,
strangest of all I still looked a young man,
blessed with the power and passion of youth...
CONCLUDES IN PART IV.
Categories:
yelps, change, dark, evil, faith,
Form:
Epic
Sung to the great single: "Loves Me Like A Rock." from There Goes Rhymin' Simon. (1975.)
(Half heard :)
The camera's got to be rolling, man. It's got to be rolling... Gospel Chorus: “ Ahhwoo…
Well, I'm running, yes I am. (Running, yes, he is!)
And I'm asking all of you. (Asking all of you.)
Now tell me, are you? ( Are you?)
Are you better than you were before? (Much Bet-ter than before.)
My opponent's had his chance. (He has had his chance.)
And I'm here to tell you straight and true
He's failed you. He's failed you.
He'll stand there and say I'm wrong
But you all know that I'm right (Yeahhh.)
It's got to be so plain and simple
That he's wrong. (Ohhh, he's wrongggg.)
So, let me promise here and now (promise here and now.)
That I'll do what I say I'll do. (Promise what I'll do.)
For I tell you people, who does (Whooo.)
Who does he think he's fooling? (Who does he think he's fooling?)
He'll tell you everything he's done. (Everything he's done.)
But if you care to look up his whole record
There's just nothing. There's nothing. (AAAhhh...)
He'll argue and scream and plead
But you just know that he is wrong. ( Ahhhh.)
The facts and figures tell his story.
That's he's just wronggg. (He’s wrong, he’s wrong.)
And if I should be elected now. (Yes, elect him now.)
The minute the people call my name. (People call my name.)
You know that I hear you! (HEARRR.)
Hear every word you're saying! (Hear every word you say!)
Just ask for anything you want! (Anything you want!)
Because I'm just a town hall a-way from you.
I hear you! I hear you! ( Yeahhh!)
I'm eager to preen and please
Because you know.. I'm here for you! (Yeahhhh.)
I represent the people truly,
I hear you! (Hears you, yes, he does.)
You all must know that I can hear you! 3x (Hears you, yes, he does!) 3x
Hear you every day and night now.
Hear you, yes I do! (Oh yes, he does!) (Repeat in staggered cadence and FADE OUT.)
(Insert Howard Dean yelp or yelps here!)
Hear you, yes I do! Hear you, yes I do! Whoop!
Hear you every night and day, now, hear you! Yes I do! (Repeat and FADE OUT :)
Categories:
yelps, parody, song-lyricnight, people, me,
Form:
Lyric
Written: September 12, 2023
Ocean Poetry Contest Sponsored by: Ink Empress
“The sea is an underwater museum still awaiting its visitors.” – Phillip Diole
______________________________________________________________
In the endless expanse of the ocean's domain.
Calm, circumfluous crystal collides coiling terrain.
A bed of iridescence behests the view.
Turquoise riddles, azure feral, and true
Humpback whales waltz on the horizon stage.
Their majestic demeanor, the ocean's sage
Waves akin to a shroud, coral reefs below.
In a cerulean ebony, enigma utopia to know
Tidal waves waltz ripples in a twirling thunder.
Foams that fizz and fatuous horses canter under
An aphrodisiac shore, paradisal and grand.
Where quicksilver spume kisses saffron sands.
Barefoot on the shore, spate, and pelagic breeze
The brine in the breeze, a savor of the seas
Seaside pearls and garrulous nautical dreams
A seamount allure, where kelpies do gleam.
Waves wreck as cymbals, water splashes spray.
Unplumbed bedrocks where sunfish play.
Blase naiads and abysmal gaunt cries
In the abyss, the embrace of diastrophism rises.
Swell of the abyss, corrugated, and red.
Balboa sails in pits due to intricate coastal spread.
Nebulous littoral shores, worldly and true
In Japan splurge, a seabed quells the view.
With a caper and a queen, the gulf turns alive.
Natal seaboard, where nexus coldness does thrive.
Beyond the gloom, where ocean waves are silver,
Moonlight pulsates, spritzes, and yelps as a river.
Whipping and splashing, an aqua symphony
The ocean's orchestra in idyllic harmony
From abyss to surface, the music does swell.
A symphony of water, where stories do tell.
In the moonlit dusk, waves waltz and sway.
Their silvery, pellucid shimmer steers the way.
With every pulsating and splashing sound.
Ocean's placate melodies and quiddity abound.
Abyssal symphony is a seraphic sight.
Where nature's cynosure beauty bears flight.
Waves, akin to dancers, gracefully behoove.
In a rhythmic squirm, their sapidity grooves.
Susurrus slipshod secrets of the steep
Splashes of euphoria, sojourn, and sweep
A symphony of splendor, a chorus of grace
The ocean's melody is in every embrace.
2nd place contest winner
Categories:
yelps, appreciation, beauty, deep, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
What mystery his essence brings
firm the limbs roaming through the hills,
amid the bushy, shadowed trees
his call… the fragrant air, refills.
And sacred eyes guide night’s passage
that clear the forest, to imbue
a rugged grace that comes alive
in moonglow’s tint and furry hues.
Listening to the Gray Wolf's song,
when he yelps out to harmonize
kinship with man, an ancient rite,
while guarding the clan…his blest prize.
Though named by time as spirit- peace,
oh hunters’ greed drains a friend’s blood
as winds lament the saddest howl;
immortal he rests on fields, lulled.
*Protect America's Wolf...https://howlingforjustice.wordpress.com
Shadow Hamilton's Contest
Canis Lupus The Wolf
4/7/15
Categories:
yelps, animal, devotion, loss,
Form:
Rhyme
At the finical phase of my life while alone or in crowd
I feel I’m attending a class about the fair and the fraud
It’s not easy to judge what’s it’s like to be bad or good
But there’s a thin line between the two to conclude.
To save or help a man, one doesn’t need to be a savior
To do some evil thing, one doesn’t need to be a sinner.
It’s all about the way you think, how you feel to help
But some call it naivety to cover for their dark yelps.
Think not about whether the person deserves amiss
Helping a person in need has nothing to do who he is
Never measure the benefits to get return but this only
That it’s a unique trait that’s not given to all wholly.
Well, Listen well and hear the whispers of your soul
And just keep your quietude to keep you whole.
Sometimes may come in dreams as an answer to prayers
Or when you’re alone, you may feel them somewhere.
+++
December 19, 2014
Form: Rhyme
First Place Win
Categories:
yelps, inspirational, uplifting,
Form:
Rhyme
Nocturnal creature signals calm
A tender night that's sure to bring,
The rising scent of dew-laced balm
Where Eagle Owl reels on a swing .
I listen how it yelps again
Through silhouettes of moonlit trees;
From leafy spades along the lane
To pivot ‘round in looped trapeze.
Eyes ebon guard the sky homeward,
Breaking the dark with hushed effect
In changing flight, more than a bird
As feathers sweep like ruffles flexed.
A sight that in my mind I lock
Till night unwraps light dusky shawl,
While I am charmed by whispered gawk
Sweet owlet trills, pervading all.
November Standard Contest, Brian Strand
Categories:
yelps, bird, uplifting,
Form:
Quatrain
Limerick: Once Miss Swiss wanted to make cake with cheese
Once Miss Swiss wanted to make cake with cheese
So she bought a cow, a dog and some geese.
The dog ate the gander
Geese laid no eggs for her,
So she locked the cow up in the deep freeze.
She called up her cousin in the French Alps
Through melodious yodeling yelps.
French cousine long in bed
Kept boiling her own blood,
So she blew the long mountain horn for help(s).
Her cousine germaine, a stout dairy maid
Answered her urgent melodic raid:
“Put the dog in manger,
Let cow sup in anger!”
Eh presto! Milk turned to holed-cheese sans aid!
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
Categories:
yelps, humor, satire,
Form:
Limerick
The stream of music
Has in it an instrument
Talking beats, not singing,
And sending legs into a frenzy
The hook of a Demigod
Knocking the round bald head
Of the talkative
As it yelps in pain
The hook romantically patting
The head of a voluptuous woman
Shaped as an hourglass
To listen to her talk
Locked in the arms of its betrothed
Like a gem to be protected,
Its ropes are fondled with
To produce sweet notes
Beautiful yet deadly
For it could pass messages
Across the halls of Boruya
As Nobles dance to their death.
Categories:
yelps, africa, music, words,
Form:
Quatrain
This the truth will always be –
amity between Sam and Abdalla;
finding Bigfoot,
gathering the ocean’s blue; a perfect wedlock;
Hollywood; Fox News; Joel Osteen.
There is no place where freedom is not
sacrificed for dreams, reality for sugared words,
a black man to Limbaugh’s tongue –
the brutal but softer tone of the Coliseum.
Our dream is fractional happiness,
a day with dark ending. Our light is a fast
exodus to the open sepulchers,
so far from youthful minds,
but within walking distance of our bodies,
breathless. Our fad is for the open eyes,
our eyes, a minute to see.
How fleeting are the seconds, and years.
When the old Ampad man came to town,
we went backward like a cult baptism,
there was this smell that walked like stupid,
along the Ohio River, the sound of tomorrow’s children
crying the cries their parents left them.
Smith was never pleased
with Jesus’ work, so they took him to America,
and execute the first 9\11, like Waco.
We strip barks from the neutered trees,
the rabid yelps in the Bushes.
We’ve witnessed Barbara giving birth to Judas,
an effort to fulfill the selling of the woman at sea.
We were terrified, but God never let it be so;
we will not go now,
the sky will dressed in black to moan our pending death.
We are dogs on a lease –
I can’t believe the things the wind told my ears.
Remember George, how we gave him Samantha,
then request that the black man give her back to us,
saying, let us take our Sammy from the cotton picker’s son;
he’s blind; he cannot see Russia from his house,
his name is a message from the camel people.
How can he rest his graying head,
against a pillow made with thorns?
How can he sleep,
with all that stupid ringing in his ears?
Categories:
yelps, history, political, , cute,
Form:
Free verse