Bipedal Poems | Examples

Judith Wright and the Birds

I loaned the poetry book 
but haven’t got it back.
Thinking of it makes me smile
Though it is no longer mine. 

The birds were each unique.
How similar are birds and people: 
bipedal.

Perhaps you could say 
the thought, the other way?
Start with a girl 
and see the bird in her?

I know a woman who is a parrot.
When she laughs, her wings shake.

A man I once met, is a pelican,
large and white, floating on the lake.
Perhaps he'd like to fly.

She Stood

transfixed
watching fish and fauna
sauntered eyes darting
to her bipedal crank
species nearly gone
The fish of stars
slutters across the glass
Crabs eyeballed sidelined
Horses of the sea
canter throbbing waves
Is that Shark hammered
as his weave meanders
bowing seaweed puckers
Flattened fish
Angelic swains
Dolphins with purpose
listen to krill trill with glee
all from from the deep come
to see the last human in the humanatarium
Please don't tap the glass
it seems to make them uneasy

Tantamount

To you I'm a number 
A census head count 
A baseline, statistic 
Not special 
Tantamount 
A blip on a radar
A bump in the road
I'm just human traffic
A bipedal drone
I'm only a age range
A line on a graph
A check with a Bic pen
A dot on a map
I want you see me
Know who I am
That I breathe, 
That I'm tangible
Just touch me again
Show me you want me
Tell me I count
Not one of the masses
Not common
Tantamount

Too Many Legs

I have figured out my arachnophobia,
it’s not the multiple eyes 
or the seen or imagined hairiness of the body,
or that torso-less squishy bag.

Apart from we bipedal life-forms
four legs, one on each corner,
seems about right.
Eight is a nightmare.

I try to imagine a Koala Bear with eight legs,
or a Rhinoceros
or, heaven forbid, a crocodile.

Somehow nature got drunk on its own ripe berries,
somehow, 8 became its own demented trick
played upon we giants.

We instinctively leap away from that ancient stillness,
a crouching threat that at any moment 
could burst into that fast stiff shuffle.

We watch dismayed as it
carries its own vulnerable package of horror 
on all those ratcheted hoists and cranes
itself fearful even to be seen.

Too Many Legs

I have figured out my arachnophobia,
it’s not the multiple eyes 
or the seen or imagined hairiness of the body,
or that torso-less squishy bag.

Apart from we bipedal life-forms
four legs, one on each corner,
seems about right.
Eight is a nightmare.

I try to imagine a Koala Bear with eight legs,
or a Rhinoceros
or, heaven forbid, a crocodile.

Somehow nature got drunk on its own ripe berries,
somehow, 8 became its own demented trick
played upon we giants.

We instinctively leap away from that ancient stillness,
a crouching threat that at any moment 
could burst into that fast stiff shuffle.

We watch dismayed as it
carries its own vulnerable package of horror 
on all those ratcheted hoists and cranes
itself fearful even to be seen.

Past Tense

I could make excuses
Or claim I was possessed
But fact would find its way out
Of duplicity confessed

So I will speak those truths
Clandestine in my past
Although far from my first mistakes
I vow each one the last

I have worshiped money
My words have been profane
I have ignored the Sabbath
And caused my parents pain

I’ve smashed some helpless insects
Thought things much less than pure
I’ve pilfered things that were not mine
Because I wanted more

I’ve lied for no good reason
Desired someone’s spouse
I've longed for their possessions
And coveted their house

My excuse has been I’m human
An average bipedal fool
The Lord made only ten mandates
I’ve fractured every rule

Yet God is ever merciful
So I strive every day
To keep all Ten Commandments
Past tense is past… I pray

Visitation

I am hooked deep inside my cavern-hanging host
   replicating in cosy subterranean cell
   night-time radar feeding my needful innermost
   viral reservoirs overflow with gruesome gel

   I slurp onto scaly creature, grimly scuttling
   fissures unfold, revealing gory condominium
   caged meal within a meal, proximity shuttling
   re-absorbed, disturbed, unsettling equilibrium

   I emerge, swimming 'Trojan' in moisture flowing
   aqueous channel opening, internal organ-treat
   indulged, engorged, rapacious appetite growing
   coughed-up bipedal phlegm, damp cold air to greet

   I am scooped again, adjacent cloth, nearby skin
   bodies pressing, heavy breath, compulsive sneeze
   defences haemorrhage, weakened corpses grin
   death is killing me, wretched repulsive wheeze

   I seep through porous mask and sweating gland
   my time is spent, havoc wrought, no place to go
   anti-bodies gathering, hostile hordes at hand
   I am oblivion but still have many names to know

Not All Aliens Are Bipedal

I crashed on your planet
right into the sea;
while I am at home here
have found many like me;
they have no clue as to how 
I can return.
So please help me...
you’ll find me in Bimini,
an Octopus with human feet.

Planetary Catharsis

This kindred of separation
this breed apart
this top of the food chain
and its self distinction by the manipulation of thumbs

This arrogance of intelligence
with its pocket-sized reasoning of knowledge
and by default applies its logic
this incongruent species of taking everything for granted

These nations of waring factions
and the tyrannies of their religions
and all their obsessive obsessions with death
and all their cognitive dissonance of life

All the distractions
the desperate intentions
to impart some measure of meaning
some inkling of purpose for a life they have never really lived

Predisposed to elitism
by their own sense of division
this bipedal predator of vertebrate mammalian
assumes all of creation was only created for them

And in their frustration
and with their playground experience
they build all manner of weapons
to beat the crap out of the people living with them

Still the sun shines
and only by its grace do they continue to exist
all the quantum theories and universal singularities
do not help them with catharsis
they survive only by the elements of a planetary symbiosis

Light Presence

Striving & Stretching...
for dozens and dozens of years
without quite..., without thanks;
each tree, each branch, each leaf
strains to attain, the ever Vast,
the vaulting vault of their Heavens.

Interloping bipedal lopers 
crash chattering their way through
on walks and hikes; tramps trampling.
Escaping the very world they've built.
A heavy presence, without exception.
Leaving ruts, and litter, 
taking token totems.
Once gone, ghosts - echoing aching presences.

The Trees are the Heavy Presence.
The weighty towers, the tumescent trunks.
The gathering green, the sipping root.
They compete with one another and
cannot compete with us-
for sounds, for space, for life.

When in the woods
do be a
Light Presence.

Jet Skis

Zoom it, baby ... 
glide nice and easy right on in
Spray it baby ... 
sweat splash me again 
Do it now!
Cool the fire burning my suntan skin
Ignite your V-8 bipedal engine again;
get it kick started, good hot revving
Make me feel the heat rising within
Now move, baby move — 
let fast and furious momentum take over 
the idyllic island mood
Get the passion swaying
with a coral undercurrent groove
Put the love skis on the wave crest;
with the heave of the heart ...
ride, baby, ride 
Jet slide astride the treasure chest
Surf the erotic surge,
release the pressure of the pleasure purge
Boom it, baby ... 
pull the joystick into full throttle
Spray the juice, baby ... 
empty the smoking fuel bottle
Exhaustion is pure ecstasy
Take the jet skis
on a wondrous wind dolphin flight in mid-air
At the height of the climatic release,
hydroplane power down
into the resting harbor star of my bosom lair

Walking Backwards

People always walk their pet Time
in linear leash fashion
But their four dimension-legged friend
don’t always lead them
the right bipedal way
When you take a trip down Memory Dove Lane,
do you often mourn 
over your past mistakes?
Or do you walk the Time backwards,
going back the same way ...
do you still revel in the foolishness
that you did back in the day?
Drunk time spent pissing on the fire hydrant,
hangover time chasing party time up a tree
High-flying old parrots with nothing but free time,
now trying to re-live their caged youth — 
Loco pet Coco, just how cuckoo can you be
Always looking forward
to the next backward birthday,
fondly cabaret clutching your pet Time:
Dog be chasing cat ... 
cat be chasing rat ... 
Rat be chasing the cheese ...
cheese be set in the trap ...
Swiss cheese memory — 
holes in the head of a turned around,
backwards looking cap
Like a blind mice of senility crawling infant-ly 
into a death trap that be ready to snap,
at the tale end of it all

Third Arm

Bipedal beings moving with
extra emotional thrust
Triangular sight triggers
kinetic causality — 
Death forfeits life
An attached third arm
goes to the concealed side
Legal modifications
make for cybernetic relations
Metal and flesh merge,
inseparable 
since their hunter moon birth
Tripod creatures
who pass through the smoke
of the atmospheric burn
The third arm
teaches the symbiotic host
how to cancel the metallic consequences
of the fatal revolution turn

My Feat

When my soles were first created
Mom and Dad did consummated
Tossed and turned out a head
Lost my bearings feet instead

After spank to make a cry
Inked and printed black feet dye
One small step for little baby
One giant leap for parent's maybe

After one two or three needle
All of a sudden I was bipedal
On my soles could not lose
Roll the dice need some shoes

Give me some that have three strips
To young now no worry the types
Later on when I spike
I'll be running with the Nike

School is done say hoot hoot
Off to work construction boot
Fancy ones for all those dates
And the ones that they call skates

Walked around in those slippers
Even walked in things called flippers
The only shoes I could not handle
Had to be the dreaded sandal

As a man with covered soles
Went through life achieving goals
Feet first baby I begun
Lucky me I could have none

Noisy Little Monkey

Noisy Little monkey

Techno junkie, clever monkey
Australopithecine
Habilis in magic mist
Little Lucy's dream

Swingers in city sky
*****erectus being
sunlit opposing thumbs
sad bipedal thing...

Flint knapper back stabber
rapping dancer man 
tippers, dark skin tappers
ancient mountain clans

Neanderthal folk dying oak
river crashing sounds 
rumbling in that stormy pass
above ancestral ground
 
Searching warming grass
Silent monkeys dared 
Invented gods of love and fear
hung them in the stars

Remember fingers in winter corn
Oh warriors of the plain long lost
Sapient kings of a dying earth
just shadows in approaching dusk

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