Long Alsatian Poems
Long Alsatian Poems. Below are the most popular long Alsatian by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Alsatian poems by poem length and keyword.
Razor back clams
she put the veggie
oil and olive oil
together in a bowl
and put cayenne and
dried peppers in the oil
where she had
crushed 10 cloves of garlic
heating the oil to extract the flavors
she let it cook
for 6 minutes
cooling over night
for lunch the next
day she would be entertaining
more than 55 people
for rehearsal
of the orchestra
razor clams
and nutria
and lsenga
would be the stars of
the table
chef Monday would
cook to the delight of these people
who needed to fine tune
there act.
Stuffed Nutria
the hindparts stuffed with
crayfish and sausage
a dry Alsatian pinot blanc
to accompany the parmesan and
lemon and pine nut combo
that coupled with crayfish and sausage
I asked my wife what was the best way to
cook a Muskrat and I told
her done. I aint got nothing against the thang
I just wanna do it with people I will likely need there
opio and loyalty to me and I to them
like this opera player
due to there need to
focus and fine tune to be absolute professionals.
the Fox 41 has never lefted us abandoned.
The sponsor chose words I’ve never heard of before
So if I don’t win the contest I’ll declare he’s a bore
It’s axiomatic that I’ve an altruistic attitude
But I don’t give a fig if folks think that I’m rude!
I’ll sign a declaration of my asseveration
Then bare my teeth like an angry Alsatian!
Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia is the fear of long words
Is this word some kind of cynical joke aimed at dim witted nerds!
REQUIRED WORDS axiomatic, altruistic, asseveration
Tongue firmly in cheek poem for contest
Triple A Challenge
Sponsored by Robert Haigh
4/15/18
These are interesting times:
hordes of Hitler Youth
are marching out
from our institutes of higher learning,
those who believe that 'all lives matter'
are labeled racists.
We saw none of this coming,
and is that our kid in that zombie mob?
Dad has been busy at the golf course,
mom coaching Little Legue soccer.
We thought it was a good life
the dream
at the heart of the American Dream
not noticing the corrosive rot
being sold as truth,
and now,
and now,
we are all very sick,
even the dog has been brain-washed,
it is behaving like a rabid Nazi,
not a big leap for an Alsatian guard dog.
She sought refuge in
The backyard shrub;
Dad, there is an Alsatian in the shrub;
Armed with pebbles
I chased her away.
Dad, that Alsatian is back,
I armed myself with pebbles
Second and third,
She fled.
Fourth time i retraced
My confused fear and anger,
I gave her food;
She did not eat;
On return, she had eaten.
Dad, that Alsatian is sitting
On the couch, telly staring;
Get out of here, I shouted,
She went out obediently.
Lost Alsatian, the advert read;
She sits on couches,
Stares telly.
Pretty left me four
Beautiful pups, she is nowhere
To be found:
Oh, my Pretty Alsatian,
Where are you?
I miss the security and fondness
You brought me!
The Chicken Coop
Down on Farmer Brown’s poultry farm
Amongst the Barns and the old cowsheds no longer used
A bunch of Chickens run around in fear
Dashing about looking all confused
Loud clucking is all you hear
It’s all because a nasty vicious fox is in the neighbourhood
So they are in fear of their lives, panic sets in
Until Mr Brown’s old Alsatian dog Buster
Starts barking making such a din
He is used to scaring off vermin
That is his main job after all
The chickens all feel safe again
Now Buster is there standing tall
Mavis Mr Brown’s lady wife
Comes to collect the morning eggs
Like she’s done so all her married life
The two of them have been together for nearly fifty years
Through thick and thin they have seen it all
But farming is the only life they know
Dealing with problems together however big or small
The Chickens have settled down again
Now the fox has been made to disappear
The old rather large old Rhode Island Red Cockerel
Is now strutting his stuff with his bright colours all on show never fear
He really is a show off and creates a rather loud din
When he crows early when the mornings get light
He wakes everyone nearby with his loud racket
Old Buster gets quite an early morning fright
He would rather be awakened buy lots of Girls and Boys
The local primary school does day trips to the farm
So they can see all the animals and chase the chickens
But Buster always makes sure that they don’t come to any harm
They love it when the chicks have hatched
All running around the chicken run
They squawk and jump around a lot
They seen to have such fun
It’s nice to think that children enjoy
Seeing how a Chicken Farm is run
And how much noise a Rooster can make
From morning to the setting Sun
Looking skywards, the Alsatian’s eyes glinted for a split second, connecting to a piercing sun ray.
The ray beamed onto dried semen ammonia. Hot dog breath puffed from his nostrils, onto my bare arm.
He sprung next to a sweating succulent, where a tiny kruisbessie leaf quivered human sperm cell display, in a whimpering breeze.
This was a filigree second, in a day of twenty-four hours times twenty-four hours.
Next the Alsatian’s back muscles rippled.
Coarsely-soft black-brown hair along his spine needled up. Four other police dogs whelped in frenzy. He gave a whip snort-sniff, then one sharp bark of achievement.
Wolf ancestry pupils dilated, penetrating that of his handler.
Time, matrixed into bruised, scratched body was a figment, my cells metabolising light and raw earth like the fragrant koppie bushes. Detective voices sliding sediment rock were parachutes opening, falling, dissipating __the helicopter an incessant mozzie.*
“Hy’t dit gekry.” **
The Alsatian with his helper dogs found the evidence of a brutal ripping of my young teen daughter’s virginity, by an impoverished farm worker, on a rugged hill in the Little Karoo.
THE ALL partnered with dogs for humans.
from my loins, a jewel
God connected sun with earth
violence, a teacher
_________________
*mozzie : slang word for mosquito
** “He’s found it.”
_________________
This lifetime’s moment is etched into my evolving DNA as experience. The power of seeing an Alsatian’s eyes connect in radar, with the heavenly Sun, directing him to dried semen on a delicate fynbos* leaf was astounding. Instant perception was one specific gift during great trauma. I chose this unrepeatable moment as it emerged from memory when I read the contest details.
No line was hard to write, though I shed a couple of stagnant tears.
I deleted how I was able to access the best sniffer dogs in the country, the Alsatian and his handler being flown in from another city. I deleted contextual details about the time.
____________________
*fynbos : fine sweet smelling bushes, some producing small flowers, indigenous to South Africa. Rocky koppies are often covered with them, making this type of hill challenging to climb.
PLACED NINTH : Premier Contest
Sponsor: Daniel Henry Rodgers
Feb. 26
A secret kept in a garden is embedded with
thorns and petals
go near you will smell eggs, manure
and ambrosia
hear piercing Alsatian fangs as it inserts into human flesh
sweet blood dripping sweat
All roars halt in a tunnel to the garden
every negation in abeyance
no escape to any delta or wonder calm
if you cannot withstand rapid lightnings of successive strikes at wrought iron gate of
a garden where a secret lies
With incisors at large seek out the secret clear
as transparency expands there is no fear
dancers Shaku Shaku across dusty towns
where a thousand marimbas are heard
while moringas grow straight and strong
with amarula in a tiny glass on a cold window sill
Focus on the secret’s scrolls in a garden
its engravings before you in wind float
as you plough askew in a battered tractor
trample a present moment in holy garden
sending chills up spine erect
Insist on one breath alone
a wordless word through no windscreen
looming large across the continent makwaya music ripples across a crocodile back
as hot bellies rise and fall
crane flowers open silently upon Sibebe Rock
watching a puff adder gliding past
the secret kept
in an aloe and wild orchid garden
I remember my cousin so adventurous
Carpe Diem was the way he lived
In the fast lane his motive was obvious
Now without him life is
One big cul de sac
Back then I drank Tip Top
For the first time
our mixer
was Drink O’ Pop
This came tipping arcade game machines
Over with crowbars and looting the coins
When I came home
on holidays from boarding school
I heard Eon was chewed by an Alsatian
On the thigh he boxed at him
What was a laugh
Doors grind at his own thighs
By not listening to his dad
His mom took a jab at his pride
Asking jokingly did you try
to cut of your birdie?
Hee hee !
Drunk like a skunk
Falling in slump
Gosh when I think about you cuz
It brings back a lump…
Form:
A huge Alsatian barks at a passerby stranger
as the pond geese honk sensing grave danger
Trudges back home a rangy lone ranger.
Big and little aubergines cast a purple shade
In the twilight birdsong begins to fade
Night makes navy-blue of the greenery's jade.
Wolves howl in the distance
Panthers prowl near pig pens
Ocelots growl around the dens.
Dolphins perform in the aquatic circus
Kids count on the time-old abacus
All in all the miracle of creation's fabulous
Elsewhere the morn dawns upon wee ladybirds
And shepherds go about grazing their hungry herds.
A rare sight of starfishes settle upon beach pebbles
Pink salmon in a see-through lake breath out bubbles
Bombed by tech; corpses found in debris and rubbles!
Wild species lurk in the murky forest
Stands tall and hovering high mount Everest
A chance to enjoy nature at its very best!
Admit it O' mankind no one can ever be
at par with your and my versatile Creator
The billions of species is far too extraordinary
He single-handedly created all that variety in nature.
For even the clever human who invented the radio
did not as well model the computer.
The one who designed my dresser couldn't design my patio
It'd be rare for a shoemaker to also be a tutor
But God He made both ant and elephant
and there's absolutely nothing that He can't.
One cold night, deep in thought, and curled in fright,
From folklore tales aimed to scare;
My rigid poise froze to a screeching noise
Outside, a voice not like I've heard before, to leave I would not dare
“It’s probably just an owl or creature of the night out there"
I muttered to myself, then pretended not to care
Oh, I recall quite vividly this icy Winter’s night
With grainy sight, the sandman came to lead me to his land
The weariness I fought but eventually he caught
Pulling me quite taut to somewhere far less bland
Where I became the leader of a marvellous brass band
And down that path sandman tightly gripped me by my hand
Trumpeters and trombone players played musically in layers
Exciting each and everyone, spreading joy to all around
But my dreams were playing tricks, my mind was in a mix
The bass tuba sounded sick, not playing tuneful sounds
Instead a grating shrill, then the whining of a hound
The lightning and the rain came too, my dream then ran aground
Alone I grew more frightened and the intensity just heightened
The shrieks and shrills grew louder with an occasional thunder clap
Taking sanctuary under bed sheets, preying for melodic sound beats
Suffering this painful feat, my soul took a massive slap
Oh how I longed for it to stop and to return me to my nap
The bleakness of that night, my mind caught in a trap
Morning later broke, the ground outside was soaked
The noise had faded but there was still a haunting in my ears
A crunch, a grind, a squeak a whine
The cause I vowed to find, and to take away my fears
From the upstairs window I saw a farmer crouched in tears
And a windmill's broken sails; the mystery closure neared
Across the muddy field, I approached the man kneeled
Sobbing over what appeared to be a dead Alsatian
He'd found it just lying there, the hound, his best friend
Downed by a falling windmill piece, killing gods creation
"A slow death" the farmer said "he must have cried out for attention"
"And my mill cranks broken causing noises of a nauseating sensation"