Gulliver Poems | Examples

After the Party, I Woke up on a Tropical Island

After the party,
I’ve found myself on a tropical island 
Just like how Gulliver was taken to the island, Lilliput. 
I haven’t either heard or visited that island.
A fantasy world with
Fathomless valleys, lush green meadows
Transparent water bodies, hanging puffy clouds,  
Glowing stars settled on the glossy mountain peaks
Animals roaming with no disparity of wild and domestic 
Tramcars, boats and buses are not in use 
No constraints of traffic rules and U-turns 
Men are carried by white winged birds.
No wars, no leaders, no foes and no prophets 
In no time people can call on their friends. 
Fruits of all seasons available the way how Dr Faustus enjoyed
Meeting strange men the way how Alice met in the wonderland
It seems like the heaven of freedom.
Perhaps, the fantasy stories hidden in my subconscious mind 
Might have led me into this tropical island
I am fascinated by the wonders of the tropical island.
But I want to go back because
I’ve missed the invisible emotional bond twined with my motherland.

Place : 4

How Gullible Can You Get

That old gullible Gulliver Gold

Would believe anything he was told

It would turn to champagne 

Catching drops in the rain

But all he caught was a nasty cold 


Then we told him to try it again 

Said this time it would turn into gin

In a steady downpour 

His throat got really sore 

And grew incredibly pale and thin


When he got well we thought we would say

Fame and fortune was coming his way 

They would crown him the King

If he drank gasoline 

So now they'll lay him to rest today

Big Foot

Gigantic footprints there on the beach
So big that a dozen men could stand in each
Yet what made these footprints did not simply stand 
But went every which way all over the sand
The emperor came and because he was wise
He noticed the footprints were not fossilised
Nor in a straight line for they’re trod all about
He asks for some quiet to figure it out
And things become clear when he talks again
Is Gulliver practicing waltz again?

Gulliver's Renown

Tiny
villagers
inhabited
Lilliput Island.
Gulliver unaware
found himself tied down
became renown
for being
obese.


written July 4, 2021

Too Many Pets

I’m facing a challenge and I’m taking bets
That I can remember the names of my pets

There’s Tommy and Jonnie and Sally and Barry
The one over there I believe might be Harry
Tiddles and Wriggles and Bruno and Gerry
Never stray far from their bestest mate Terry

But Sue, Lou and Nancy, Alberto And Drew
Appear to be loners, a bit like Baloo
That crowd to one side hang around in a gang
But seem to be led by Mei Ling and Chang

Now, can I recall who the rest of them are
I’ll try but they all look the same from afar
Lee, James, Amanda, Frank, Annie and Les
Annabelle, Gilbert, Wilbert and Dez
Sonya, Sam, Lesley-Anne, Mary-Lou, Bess
Stephanie, Bethany, Cuthbert and Jess
Edward and Jedward, Samson and Ben
Zebedee, Gerry-Lee, Timothy, Jen
Josh, Tod and Spartacus, Abbie and Sid
Oliver, Gulliver, Billy the Kid
There’s Tyson and Dyson, and Eric and Jim
And Betty and Hetty, Jemima and Kim

I got them from someone who lives down the road
And carried them all to my humble abode
I needed no crate cos the breeder had bowls
He told me that’s how one should carry tadpoles

Asinine Alcohol

Asinine alcohol alters me into a paper sniper
Ready to bounce and pounce on any challenger
Who dares to dance his lance in the path of my pied piper 
Primed to civilize and sanitise viewpoints of an avenger.
 
Asinine alcohol magnifies my crucial social strength
Metamorphosing my frail figure into a Gulliver
With mesmerizing might in both girth and length
Although in reality a midget differs from both Oliver Twist and McGyver.

Asinine alcohol rolls my eyes, my world, my brain
Turning every reel of reality topsy-turvy
In a kaleidoscope catapult in which the reign of my refrain
Immortalises illusions, imprisons reason giving way to scurvy.

Asinine alcohol forestalls balls, walls and calls for sobriety
Pouring scorn, whittling away sapience on the horn of moderation
Measured on a scale of propriety, sobriety and impropriety
In the context of consideration, celebration and cerebration.

The Globe Tis Choked

Rid me of this damn corn,
the progeny of past laquered 
loves, its to, its fro, they lap 
like cats at milk, destroying all

Returning then to orange groves
and furnace fire/sing to me the 
song of could have been, sweet
orchard’s milk and valleys

The wiry sheen below the 
capstan’s turn, to anchor goes
the choking deep; all’s not well, 
fifty fathoms down

Now granted pure by nature’s leap, 
the sequinned, peppered snow,
from mountain’s irridesent yawning 
glow, descends to us in a throw, 
of sower’s hand!

Lilliput and Gulliver, side by side,
lead the band, and bring the sheaf
to altar bare: but quick!  

Before the earth be dead, and all
its winsome jewels to share

Freedom

A courier of peace; a coupon of hope
Your cost, though, I have been made alien,
Your fruitfulness I heartily grope.
But the lashed back in servitude asks, “WHEN”?
A befitting vestment on servitude
A plague in the metropolis,
Like the Gulliver in Lilliput.
Amass not, thou in bit she seeks.
Though thou enjoyed none methinks,
‘Cos denied is she, much she denies ye.
But let that which we sought be unclink
An ointment on our contuse, we pr’ythee.
And should denial tend your way,
At wrath, me be spared, I pray.

Books From My Childhood

Reading by the light of a flashlight
With the covers pulled over my head
Captain Nemo battled an octopus
Robinson Crusoe was thought to be dead

Gulliver went on his travels
Charlotte spun a new web
Jem wouldn’t kill a mockingbird
Oliver wanted more to be fed

Old Yeller had to be put down
Black Stallion ran faster than wind
Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang flew over the ocean
Tom talked with Huckleberry Finn

Mary Shelley constructed her monster
Natty Bumpo helped the last Mohican
When one adventure finally ended
I couldn’t wait for the next to begin

Author Author

Ideas gleaned from poetry and books
should be for sale in little boxes, that
were optional at extra cost--and I
would find inside, the little people  there,
that I could set upon my desk, 
and shake my finger at them, 
questionning without offence 
their origin, or their descent.
And as a gentle Gulliver, perhaps,
remember to remark upon their zeal.

Of course if I found feedback from the air
that bears my voice, or from my friends who care,
I would. But yes, it is too much to ask,
and much too little to depend upon.
No wonder that the wee ones live for us!

Beware, my tiny leprechaun. 
We are scavengers who would invade the night
to capture you, for you are rare indeed.
Within your packs, you bear the wonder drug,  
insight to know, to dare to understand, 
embrace, believe!
       ~

Travails of Life

I traveled with Gulliver in his travails
Often times involving in shipwreck- 
Or becoming prisoner of the Lilliputians of life.
I sailed on the ocean of life-
Getting marooned on an island called strife.
I must live; but life someday I must leave.
I thread this path with none to share in my grief
Worried that someday the planter will come to fall his tree.
Guns marching forth on the street of Glover;
Sending its victim on holiday to the cemetery at Akoka.
Speeding vehicles diving deep in the belly of the ocean
Conflagrations wailing along the neighbourhood,
Devouring what is left of the existence of man.
This death, this pain and this hopelessness-
Are the travails warped around our mortal existence-
Which to its realities we shall wake up to when we are long gone.

Masters of the Page

Munching with Alice
The things that make me small
Laughing with Hatter
One size too tall

Tracing the Red Ferns
Catching the embers
In my hand
Oh! how they burn

Chanting the spells
And twirling my wand
Playing dirty quiditch
All around my lawn

When gulliver couldn't travel any more
How big were the liitle people
That tied us down tight
Until every inch of our body was sore

The Lord of the rings make a proposal
Gold for your soul
Furry feet and Elves ears
Run to Mordor fast, I'm told

When the sun has found its end
The trees began to come alive
I jump back from imagination
But into another book I dive

Sunny Day In Michigan

SUNNY DAY IN MICHIGAN

I can almost hear him whisper
His coattails brush the leafy shine
Fancy    
Sculpting jolly faces -
    a cluster smile good fortune    waving

Oh!    Such an urge to completely inhabit the out-of-doors
Gulliver feet planted
Frame head-thrusting as far as blue will allow

Sunny days in Michigan
The charm of neighborhood –
Familiar pile drenched    mollified in early fall

I can almost detect the frown    the shrug
He’s humming (under his breath) a fated dirge
Revealing autumn in disguise

Work Is Love Made Visible-W

I do not know what work there is as many feel
I have always worked with love and taste
In my teens my second home was Library
Reading Gulliver travels and one-act plays.

After getting my master’s degree in English
I got a job in the university campus as a lecturer
And never felt teaching as a work but joy there.
My house was where I could hear college bells.

My class-room lectures were for three hours
And reading at home for next day preparation.
I *dramatized great works for the college fine arts
Even I *directed those works in my spare times.

After retirement my sons look after my needs 
I enjoy looking after my needs for the fine arts.

                         *************  

*The title  of the poem is a famous
quote of Great Urdu Poet Khalil Zibran 

*P.S. I shall be posting some photographs of my activities in
France and England, 1989. in my blog shortly

====================================
Eighth place winner in
Contest: The work you do in Honor of Carolyn Devenshire

Gulliver

So, you have remained.
From those who had crossed
the land of the comparison,
you had taken their heads off
without them to unsheathe their swords
And it seems that time
had been your permanent ally,
for all of your rivals,
with heads still on their necks,
had commited suicide
Oh, those treacherous heads of them:
those that had fallen in the Pantheon
and those that had maddened alone...
I proclaim you, astonishing
Hors concours
That, who will dare to repress you,
you will crush him with the smallest effort
of your single intelligence
You are, in fact, a king not to be equalled
who had never saved
any who had invested against you
and whose throne, 
from where you will reign doubtless,
is the folded skirts of my dress


Patrícia Evans

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