Best Yip Poems
The golden orb fades beyond the far ridge of trees,
purple dusk wins the fight
The cold settles in the marrow of the bone
The long lonely trail calls my name
Twilight trail winds amongst the spruce
Dogs surge forward smelling home, respite
The final upwelling seeking sanctuary
The long lonely trail calls my name
The wolf cries his lament
His mate repeats the refrain
A challenge calls from the distant peak
The long lonely trail calls my name
A glow in the clearing up ahead promises comfort, assures warmth
Lazy smoke rises from a half hidden chimney, home
Frozen fingers tingle in anticipation
The long lonely trail calls my name
Dogs left behind in the yard yip a welcome
The door of the cabin flies open spilling welcome across the snow and ice
A figure steps out
The long lonely trail calls my name
CANIDS
The Fox
with cat-like slit eyes
lurking near the hen house. . . .
meow-less creature
Chihuahua-like ears
catch a sound in the bushes. . . .
hens can rest easy
a small rat scurries
with that vixen in pursuit . . .
it’s fast-food tonight
Coyotes
song of the desert -
long howls declare “I am here”. . . .
mice and rabbits hide
barking dogs in threes
unlucky mice collected. . . .
live practice for cubs
yippy yippy yip
heard among those happy cubs. . .
celebration time
The Pack
the pack starts its hunt
mountains rise up before them. . .
thirty miles to go
in dark night - dog fight
one alone - tail stands erect. . . .
yellow eyes back off
wolf faces grinning
twenty pounds of meat for each. . . .
like one hundred burgers
For PD's Inner Animal Contest:
for fox, coyote, wolf haiku
The nights are still and quiet,
Until you listen to the silence.
It's then the parts that make the whole
Are clear for ears to hold.
Like cream from milk
They separate and give us
Something to savor,,,
Each are ingredients in the recipe
That makes the sound of summer.
A dog is barking in the distance
As a pack of coyotes yip and run.
Leaves are rustling softly,
In a rare and short-lived breeze.
Neighbors are outside talking,
But, their words are distant chatter.
Now, laughter tells me they are happy.
And then, a truck drives by,,,
His radio plays an oldie I remember.
The underlying sound of crickets
Chirping can be heard.
They taunt the birds that chase them
All the day.
Their song doubles as a celebration of life
And a challenge for tomorrow.
Light flickers from the window
And TV is the cause.
I can't make out the program but I'm sure
That she'll soon call.
I hear the back door opening...
The cow lows to her baby as night falls
A cricket gaily chirps there is nothing wrong
A little frog croaks as I walk by the stream
A whip-poor-will calls from a near by grove of trees
A screech of the eagle as he balances on the wind
The yip yip of the kit foxes as they play by their den
The cooing of the dove as it calls to it’s mate
The beller of the bull as he declares his space
The grunting of a mare as she gives her colt a bath
The thumping of a rabbit as he crosses my path
The rattle of a snake warning he is close by
The hoot hoot-hoot of a skunk says he’s nigh
The call of the red winged black bird as he settles on the reeds
While the blue jay called me a thief, as from my garden he gets his seeds
Mr. Owl brought a smile as he said hello
For you see we have spoken before
The chatter of the squirrel as he scampers through the trees
As the wind gently rattles it’s leaves.
The bark bark of the prairie dog as he bobs up and down
The splash of the raindrops is a soothing sound
The rustle of the brush as the quail pass
The kill deer tries to tempt me away from his nest.
The call of the coyote begging for the moon
And from a near by lake the call of a loon
With a tear in my eye I thank the Lord once again
That He has given me one more night to enjoy the Lullaby of the Plains.
>>>>>>>>> She was a tappin' to rhythmic tunes...
those Mississippi blues,
step-pin' out, in her sexy...
cowgirl leather boots...
red white & blue...
we were a watchin' her a prancin',
all through her kitchen, dancin'...
for she was so - hot & sizzlin'...
hummin' to those Mississippi tunes...
funny curlers too, upon...
her head-for a new - Hair dew,
she was, a swirlin'-in that bakers apron,
in her kitchen dancin' while...
,
her head...still a bobbin' to...
those Mississip-pi blues,
'Pots were a knockin'...
Grandma a sipin' & sockin' down all she brews,
while that kettle there was whistlin',
in har-mo-ny, with them good ol'e...
good ol'e...miss-is-SIP-pi moves,
that floor there, was a bouncin'
holdin' hands we were a jumpin',
while Grandma's feet were a stompin',
in her new...'New - Cowgirl' - sexy - fancy
leather - red, white, & blue Mississip-pi boots
(yip pee)
Naked as the day of my birth, I lay upon the floor
coverless and chill, eyes fluttering, closed, yet aware...
inwardly I stare, counting chest rises, in despair.
My fear of onward life is more than I can ignore.
Outside, a fluttering of wings seeking to explore,
the haunting howl of wolf, whose mating call taunts, beware,
both harbingers of death; I grasp with each breath of air,
sending scorching ripples through a shaking fearful core.
Moonlight cloaks my sentient form, and heaven guards my plight.
Covers tossed, comfort shorn, I search for ribald tales
to return to me a bit of warmth and playful light.
A hoot, a yip, a chirping melody, which prevails
reminding me of the paths beyond the pale that invite,
for I am just a dreamer tossed, on night's dark coat-tails.
Date: 9/26/12
Contest: Dreams
His Hide Was Too Wide
In jolly old England, Sir Henry, his lordship looked for a horse to ride
After a few days a horse was found and he tried to oblige
However, when Lord Henry approached his side, the horse reared in
the air and let out a loud “Yip”
Lord Henry, very upset, yelled, “Calm down old horse, we must make
this trip”
“But sir, “ said the horse, “I don't mean to be rude, but your
circumference is very wide. You could break my hip”
Of course, this hurt his Lordship's pride
“Hush up old horse, allow me to mount, or I'll use my whip!”
“Ney, Ney,” the old horse whinnied, and broke his stride, jerked
his head back, and of Lord Henry's arm took a nip.
So even though he tried, Lord Henry didn't get a ride because the old
horse thought his hide was too wide
Sorry no longer politically correct
You scan the sky for the spectacular sight
that nature bestows on ones eyes
the unbelievable beauty of golden eagles in flight
as it flies , soaring, dipping and diving his eyes scan the countryside
for any small movement which brings him swooping down.
This pair have been together for many years.
Have had white down covered fledglings before.
Firstly they listened to the scratching in the egg
this happens about fifteen hours before hatching.
Now they listen to the yip yip sound of hungry youngsters
the noise which is carried on the wind, belong to the four fledglings.
Waiting ,calling, hungrily in their nest of intricately woven branches
The adult Golden Eagle’s plumes are brown looking so dull
until you spot the white feathers at the tail, this you see
when they stretch their wings, flapping, cooling down,
showing what looks like splayed fingers at the tips.
This also happens when they ride the air currents
looking impatiently for a tasty rodent to eat
These majestic birds are found now in Scotland
In an area where there are just a few trees, which suits this bird needs
They like to nest in high trees away from others
Hopefully, in watched over conditions this bird will survive here.
Penned 3rd October 2015
She was a tappin' to the tunes...
of those Mississippi blues,
step-pin' out, in her sexy...
cowgirl leather boots, red white & blue,
We were a watchin' her a prancin',
all through the kitchen, dancin'...
for she was so - hot & sizzlin'...
hummin' to those Mississippi tunes...
Funny curlers too, upon...
her head-for a new - Hair dew,
In her kitchen dancin' while...
she was, a swirlin'-in that bakers apron,
when her head...still a bobbin' to...
those Mississip-pi blues,
'Pots were a knockin'...
Grandma a sipin' & sockin' down all she brews,
while that kettle there was whistlin',
in har-mo-ny, with them good ole...
good ole...miss-is-SIP-pi moves,'
That floor there, was a bouncin'
holdin' hands we were a jumpin',
an-a hoppin' In the kitchen, to those...
sounds ...
Where Grandma's feet were a stompin',
In her new...New - Cowgirl - sexy - fancy
leather - Red, white, & blue Mississip-pi boots ...
(yip pee)
-I have a dilapidate imagination,
-My mental improprieties describe my intense self-incrimination.
-The accused are my thoughts and mind.
-The truly faulted is my behavior, unrefined.
-I am undefined.
-Because my self-interpretations are blind.
-There is no way to explain nor describe who, what, or when I may or may not be.
-For all anyone knows, I'm the branches of a sweet pudding pine tree.
-And so you're aware of it,
-I feel I must declare it,
-That I simply cannot bare it,
-When I hear the letter p, I must stare at it.
-And get the urge just to say,
-"Punctual porcupines peruse, penalize, and pester preposterously perfunctory parrots,"
-However, saying it aloud, I wouldn't dare it.
-But I kind of just did, contradicting, deserving of merits.
-Now leap into my thinking box,
-I swear, not another paradox.
-In here, there are no working clocks.
-No need for a watch.
-No need for anything of any kind,
-I am a prisoner of my own mind.
-Occasionally going to conjugal visits with myself.
-Me, her, and I really need help.
-Twisted mental health,
-Manically creating my own intellectual wealth.
-Check out my nerdy ninja stealth
-Sounds like "Laughter, yip-yap, squeak, and yelp,"
-Now, I can waste much more time.
-I seem plentiful in rhyme.
-However, you asked for a self portrait, so that topic I will try to pursue.
-But I don't really know what or who to introduce, do you?
"A Cowboy Christmas" is a children's song, sung to the tune of "Frere Jacques".
Christmas morning, Christmas morning,
'Neath the tree, 'neath the tree,
I found a hobby horse,
I found a hobby horse,
Giddyup, yip-pee!
Giddyup, yip-pee!
The Mockingbird sings out his misleading best,
in hopes to attract a dupe with a nest,
where the squatter believes mate’s eggs should belong;
so mimics and jabbers uncountable songs.
Catbirds and Thrashers, related critters,
both grey North Americans sport throats of a twitter.
These gifted Warblers mock tricky bird tunes,
deceiving, deluding as feathered dragoons.
In fairness to balance the Tweeters’ intent,
creating, demanding a need to invent
a song to attract a new or lost mate:
so, a beacon to follow and commitment to state.
EXAMPLE MOCK SONGS
whistling, hey-hey yip pittie-yap
frog gurgle, snarf-chickie claw-saw
peep peeping piccolo-staccato bleat
sniftering chit-chat, yodel-do do
snerling, rat trap, blah tat-tat-tat
crunchy nasal chirp, coo-coo-coo
“Whatever you say, Dear”,
Seemed like a safe thing to say;
It’s a harmless enough little line.
“Whatever you say, Dear”;
I was repeating every day;
Got me out of trouble all of the time.
It didn’t even matter that I never heard a word
Or even knew what the topic might be;
“Whatever you say, Dear”
Never sounded too absurd
And I could still concentrate on TV.
Blah, blah, blah,
“Whatever you say”;
Blab, blab, blab,
“Whatever’s okay”;
Yak, yak, yak,
“Whatever, is fine”;
Yip, yip, yip,
Worked every time.
Next thing I know,
She had a new car,
And throughout the whole house
New carpeting installed;
She had a diamond ring;
A new wardrobe too;
She bought some mink thing,
And a dozen new shoes.
“Thank you, Sweetie, for being so kind
And saying I can buy all these things.
Maybe next time I talk you will listen to me;
For I’m not as dumb as it seems.”
coyote pups yip
waiting for mother's catch....
female quail searches
Felt under my heel
A banana peel
I slip
Loudly now I squeal
Like a clapping seal
I flip
A mid air cartwheel
Now terror I feel
I yip!
Need to get a grip
Sweat beads off me drip
Oh boy.
I bend at the hip
My feet now I grip
No joy
I brace, bite my lip
And land from this trip
Not coy
Was this evil ploy?
A cartoon decoy?
With zeal!
A plan I employ
Litterbug, destroy!
Big deal…
Calm down from annoy
And had a Rob Roy
Surreal.
March 16, 2023
Write me a Virelai
Sponsor: Kim Rodrigues