Long Animal Poems
Long Animal Poems. Below are the most popular long Animal by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Animal poems by poem length and keyword.
eudaimonia-
cat's in the birdcage;
bird has lit away;
anxiety outlet;
as the dog chews away;
that old beat-up rug;
shag as it was;
the cat used to roll around in
hook on dark and light;
spilled sour milk from the cat's bowl;
WOW
bArk
Meow
Now
withered clumps of fur;
Scrambled empty soul
bird tweets at the clock;
as the cat watch;
as the doggy scrapes he itches;
needs his medicine;
in grief no hope nor apologizes;
as the bird tweets and burps;
the bird twitadee-tweets and just flies away
Free
11/04/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
It was early morning when she let out a stretch
Getting ready to start her day
Grabbing a snack, she combed her hair back
And she darted out on her way
A few moments later she made it to work
She sat in her usual place
She wasn’t at all popular, a loner for sure
But everyone know her face
You could tell by her grin that she loved her job
Though the work was rather rote
As the others walked by, she let out a soft cry
She was hesitant to make her approach
As the hours grew on she watched them
High above in groups large and small
And as they moved above at great height
She secretly wished one would fall
On occasion she’d get lucky
One would let down his guard for once
As he came down to survey his meal
She’d raise up and in an instant she’d pounce
My kitty by then she’d be grinning
With a mouthful of lunch you see
After an all day set, kitty would get fat
On a bird who left the safety of a tree.
When her ewe Sally had twins, naming them was easy for Nelly.
They would either be Salt and Pepper or Peanut Butter and Jelly.
Her brother asked, "what about Jack and Jill or Bread and Butter?"
Nelly was irritated, he was bothering them; she ran to tell her mother.
Triplet lambs are rare, it only happens 2.3 percent of the time.
But Sally gave birth three times today, the neighbors all chime.
Huey, Dewey and Louie or Cat in the Hat, Thing One and Thing Two.
They were determined to help Nelly name them – red white and blue?
Nelly was excited by the baby lambs three.
She sat with Sally, and petted them, feeling carefree.
A photographer came by and took her photo; she was a beauty.
He suggested the names A, B, and C, as if it were his duty.
Old joke: How do porkypines mate? Very carefully.
The porcupine's a modest
And mostly solitary beast,
Akin to capybara and to beaver,
Though in size he is the least.
He rarely gets invited
To a bar-b-que or feast,
But long as he's not on the menu,
He doesn't mind it in the least.
He'll never write his memoirs,
Although of stories there's no lack,
But penmanship's beyond him,
He just doesn't have the knack.
And though he ports around a vast array
Of sharpened quills upon his back,
There's not one that's fit for writing
In all the clicking, clacking pack.
When "she" sends forth her pheromones,
And "he" rises to the bait,
Safe sex is uppermost in mind
As he advances to the plate.
His approach must be well-timed, precise,
Lest she shish-kabob her mate.
If it's not done right the first time…
There won't be a second date.
I was lucky to marry a woman…at the time much to my surprise
who sees the world around us through pure and innocent eyes.
I loved to kid her about all the favorites that she has, so many from which to choose…
favorite color, favorite food, favorite blouse, favorite shoes.
Favorite author, favorite actor, favorite place…favorite thing to bake,
favorite movie, favorite animal, favorite cookie…favorite cake.
Yes, I loved to kid her about how she viewed the world
through those pure and innocent eyes.
But I came to realize it was my eyes that were wrong…and it was her eyes that were wise.
She taught me as we ride through life together…as we do our best to muddle through it.
It’s not only important what we see…but how we choose to view it.
How wonderful for her…how extraordinarily rare
to be able to walk through life finding favorites everywhere.
Imagine if your heart was open to it…if your mind was so inclined
all the miracles you’d discover…all the favorites you would find.
Imagine the anticipation…the excitement you would feel along the way
if you knew when you woke up this morning…this could be your favorite day.
Why just yesterday, for instance, we took one of our favorite walks,
talked to one of our favorite friends…a friend with whom I used to teach,
ate our favorite lunch at one of our favorite restaurants
and watched our favorite sun set on our favorite beach.
One thing she has taught me…is that if you can find favorites
in whatsoever any moment has comprised…
you will usually have a smile on your face…and you’ll constantly be surprised.
You’ll fall asleep at night contented, happy…thinking…this was my favorite day to date…
and you’ll wake up the next morning excited to see what new favorites await.
Now, as I share in all her favorites, I no longer have a reason to tease or doubt her…
because the fact that she has so many favorites…
is my favorite thing about her.
"Fart Proudly!" Benjamin Franklin Once Wrote
A troublesome guest is best not to tote
For happy intestines
It was Ben's suggestion
A good fart is worthy of a good gloat!
Could it be that we're farting obsessed?
Each aspect of farting addressed
From loud and heady
To silent but deadly
All preferences being confessed
They say one should die for their art
But it's others who suffer the fart
I think that it's time
To pursue a new line
Stop the horse and empty the cart
A horse is a horse me thinks 'tis true
Of course it's the back end that stinks of poo
While wielding shovel and pail
I did not watch the tail
He let loose and blew and up I threw!
"over the waters blue the night winds sigh, the breakers roar ... Samual Taylor Coleridge
There lived no better heart to know.
His love was like a light,
Coloring lives in visions of gold,
Softest visions, alive, so bold,
Beautiful rhythms who never grow old.
His name was Oscar, so beloved I am told,
He held secrets that would never be sold,
Offered kisses when the heart was cold,
Gentle whispers of light for love to hold,
He was surely a wonder to behold, a dog so loving…
Even the stars shined brighter when he consoled,
Hearts were better for knowing this canine paroled.
He was a light shining through the skies who rolled…
Beyond the wonderful that only Oscar the pup foretold.
His love stilled the darkness with a beauty untold.
There lived no better heart to know.
His love was like a light,
Coloring lives in visions of gold,
Softest visions, alive, so bold,
Beautiful rhythms who never grow old.
His name was Oscar, so beloved I am told,
He held secrets that would never be sold,
Offered kisses when the heart was cold,
Gentle whispers of light for love to hold,
He was surely a wonder to behold, a dog so loving…
If you never knew him, you missed a heart of gold.
He was the beloved of everyone he met.
This is one dog that I’m sure to never forget.
He was more than just a loving pet.
He was a heart who I loved and will never regret…
Knowing, because, in his eyes, the sun rose and set!
Deer on the run, Deer on the run
And dear Santa Claus
and Rudolph too
Searching for them
Deer on the run, Deer on the run
Deer on the run, Deer on the run
Oh the strain on holiday knees and red nose
As they searched through chilly woods
And the old man’s sleigh is balancing on roof
With gifts of gold and coal
“Good to be running free
Get Santa off his ride
Hilarious to break Rudolph’s pride
Don’t rest Blitzen!
Rest, Blitzen…
Rest”
Deer on the run, Deer on the run
And dear Santa Claus
and Rudolph too
Searching for them
Deer on the run, Deer on the run
Deer on the run, Deer on the run
“When I catch those reindeer
They’ll get kick in the rear!
Those dirty paws will get no applause.
Stop there, Blitzen!
Stop, Blitzen!
Stop!”
The old man wants his milk and cookies pronto
The chimneys are growing cold
And look, children not dreaming, and waking up
With nothing fun at all
Deer on the run, Deer on the run
And dear Santa Claus
and Rudolph too
Searching for them
Deer on the run, Deer on the run
Deer on the run, Deer on the run
I have a porker as a stalker; it keeps following me down the street
I cannot talk to my friends, as it keeps oinking when I try to speak
Doesn’t it have an owner it can go home to, and as leave me alone
Once; I tried to lock it out, but, all it did on me is squeal and moan
And, its weird habit of wearing a tutu and doing its pot belly dance
If it had been potty trained, life would have been sweet, no chance
I had enough of her nicking my bed once she farted I disowned her
I stuck posters up with a photo to see if I could find her true owner
3 months later, and still no reply I started to think along other lines
So I put her on the cover of magazines dressing her up to the nines
It wasn’t long before Porker the stalker, had become a renown star
Now; Porker the stalker owns her own limo, with its own liquor bar
Are you still sticking with it here as the tale gets even more bizarre
She met a prize pig up Ohio who played guitar and was a superstar
It wasn’t long before they got wedded, and had piglets by the score
Where; at long last, Porker the stalker, was not my stalker anymore
glove - a covering for the hand having separate sections for each of the fingers and the thumb and often extending part way up the arm
mitten - a covering for the hand and wrist having a separate section for the thumb only
SMITTEN WITH MITTENS
Kittens are smitten with their mittens, while their mom uses white gloves.
Meowing, they’re lost…they’re dirty; mom’s clean as snowy doves,
except when they are used to find leftover dust, her special pair -
not that the naughty dinnerless kittens, with mittens, care.
Snowballs, mostly caked with dirt, sticks and stones, they roll
between their grubby-pawed mittens easy to pat with fingerless palms.
One of the pair, of course, got rolled and tossed - no food in his bowl.
He knows the fate that awaits, when mom drops her bombs.
Mom buys the four gloves. Now they’re fingers are separated.
They panic, with teeth, they chew and pull, then fill each one
with snow and use them to throw, but they’re cold and frustrated.
They meow for dinner, meow for mittens - naughty every single one.
Mom takes pity, warms each pair of hands, feeds them gold.
Their stomachs ache from so much grub…she loves them so.
After all, she really is most understanding and caring, all told.
She pulls out her master card, buys mittens - they play in the snow.
1/17/2023
Contest: Of what use are gloves to fingers
that only understand mittens Poetry Contest
Sponsor: John Lawless