Long Badgers Poems
Long Badgers Poems. Below are the most popular long Badgers by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Badgers poems by poem length and keyword.
God asked Noah to build an ark
he was happy to oblige
but he wasn't so keen
when he found out
what had to go inside
Two of every animal
then you must set sail
the animals were fearful
the whale began to wail
Even the Gnu knew
this idea would surely falter
but every beast preferred this idea
than being led by nose to slaughter
Noah followed the order
from gnat to lion to horse
this was a recipe for Pandamonium
but Noah knew this of course
Seating plans were issued
but an almighty row took place
The lion the king of the jungle
argued that he was a special case
The Queen Bee wanted second billing
while the Emperor penguin demanded a throne
while the homing pigeon panicked
at not being able to find his way home
Nightime was the worst
sleep was beyond them all
with the woodpecker continually pecking
and the gloworm lighting up the hall
The doves tried to keep the peace
as all hell broke loose
while bets were taken on who had the longest face
the horse, anteater or moose
The pandas tried to be romantic
sleep deprivation made their eyes go black
the magpies kept stealing the others duvets
and the squirrels were nuts to turn back
The elephants said they'd never forget
and they wished they packed more in their trunk
while the terrible smell that stunk out the place
was eventually blamed on the skunk
The bears awoke with sore heads
they had drunk all their supplies in one night
while the hyenas found it hilarious
at their next door neighbours plight
The crows shouted blue murder
but the bats were blind to it all
the ravens were ignored by the masses
as all they said was 'never more'
The maggots agreed it was just rotten luck
to be stuck in this mobile zoo
and every time the peacock showed his feathers
it made the pigeones coo
The badgers were set in their ways
the sheep said their wool was a curse
while the spiders got a verbal warning
for using a sows ear to weave up a purse
Finally they found dry land
the hare raced out in the lead
while the tortoise said there was more to life
than doing everything at top speed
Noah was happy that the journey had ended
and this was the end of the road
but at least one species had enjoyed the trip
the rabbit population had increased ten fold!
Amongst the oaks and the maples and shrubbery so green
Runs a translucent flow, a stream so pristine
It's meandering contours hugging the land
Takes me back to the day, we met unplanned
The sky was pale blue on this hot summers day
Cotton wool clouds in mesmerising display
It's as if you could reach out and brush with your hand
This candy floss coating ceiling our land
Many meadows I walked through capturing the sounds
Listening to her marvels in cinema surround
Technicolour rainbows so radiant to the eye
Such beauty in nature, understandably why
I reach the turn-style that leads to the forest walk
Listening to the breeze through the trees as if they talk
These pillars of stature, as old as grandfathers years
Many stories they could tell, that would bring you to many tears
As I stroll through the leafy lanes, mapped out over many years
Trampled underfoot by it's inhabitants, badgers and beautiful red deer
I now reach the stream as I follow it's meandering flow
To a pool at it's end where past maidens bathed in glow
My ears now pick up sounds of singing and a splashing
Resonating from the pool, a glimpse of pink now flashing
A lady stands before me, bathing in the stream
Scarlet clothing in sporadic lay, am I in some kind of dream
I call out to this beauty as she turns and looks at me
Towards the bank she walks, and invites me in with she
Knee deep in crystal waters our bodies close in touch
My clothing now drifts away, the two of us in clutch
Into our eyes we both now look as blood flows through my veins
Her touch is soft and gentle, my hands now stroke her mane
Deeper we edge out as she floats and hugs my waist
The two of us in join in this beautiful serene quiet place
Our emotion creates commotion as our undulations reach the shore
Ripples of joy they are as underwater hands explore
The coldness incites a reaction, in pert and firm caress
In delightful blend we release, two souls in loving press
Kissing we reach the bank, on her summer dress we lie
Sighing in breathless spoon, we stare at the green canopy sky
Many, many hours have passed, lying naked below the peeking sun
This is the day I met my scarlet woman, the day our lives began
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/love-11.php
And there the story might have ended
But the bite on Suzanne's thumb
Throbbed and became distended,
'I must say, I feel a little rum',
she said and lay down on her bed,
but as she fell asleep a patch of fur
started growing on her tum.
She slept a light and fitful sleep
Full of strange hypnotic dreams
in which she leapt from branch to branch,
speaking in a stuttering chattering scream.
When she awoke she felt warm and cosy,
her bad dreams had all gone away,
The clear bright light of dawn was rosy,
She was looking forward to the day.
But looking in the mirror her face turned a whiter shade of pale,
for now, coming from her lower back was a thick and bushy tail!
Her two front teeth were now so large they stuck out prominently,
And somehow she was not quite in charge of an urge to act, well, more rodently!
Now instead of inspiring her yoga class
With her incredibly flexible poses,
These days Suzanne is sure to be found
In the park, (only partly obscured by the roses),
Listening intently with her pointy ears for the sound of a poor unwary fella,
that sits down to munch on a nutritious lunch
of sandwiches filled with nutella.
For Cyril had imparted a terrible curse,
He was a ware squirrel you see, man,
and what is worse, his thumb biting curse,
had passed on his populist schtick,
and now she's a big Daily Mail fan!
In her throat comes a lump
at the mention of Donald J Trump,
And austerity, well now she's all for it, ha!,
Let the poor rot in hell,
And the disabled as well,
Katy Hopkins she follows on Twitter,
She's the chair of her local EDL group,
Since she abandoned her candles and crystals,
At night she culls badgers, just for fun, with a whoop,
And owns shares in a frack site near Bristol.
Could this be the end for our white witchy friend?
Can the curse of the ware squirrel be broken?
Fear not dear reader, there's light round the bend,
these few verses are merely a token,
Soon in hushed tones by crusty old crones of a miracle will it be spoken,
how Suzanne the fair, once cursed by a ware
Squirrel was magically spared from this sorry affair
by our old Jedi mate Oby Wan of Conorbyn,
for it 'twas by him that she was awoken.
On the Sixth Day
On the sixth day God created the animals
Oh what fun creating the animals;
Rolled up each sleeve to create all the animals
On the sixth day.
God made cats and dogs and hogs and frogs
Elk and moose – mongoose on the loose;
Singing birds and fuzzy chicks –
The Lord in Heaven even made a tic? Ick!
On the sixth day God created the animals.
God made camels, rhinos, laughing hyenas
Lions, tigers, funny stripped zebras;
Robins that fly and pigs with curly tails
Roadrunners, coyotes and the slowest snails. Beep! Beep!
On the sixth day God created the animals.
God made leopards, cheetahs, elephants, oh my!
Bumblebees, ladybugs and all the butterflies;
Bears and badgers, bunnies too!
Koalas down under then made the kangaroo. Yahoo!
On the sixth day God created the animals.
God made otters, dolphins, seals and grey whales
Beavers, peacocks, squirrels with their funny tails;
Worms that slither and tortoise that creep
Wombats, meerkats, silver fox and fuzzy sheep! Baa!
On the sixth day God created the animals.
God made gophers, manatees, long-necked giraffe
Anteaters, platypus just to see us laugh;
Walrus, polar bears, doe eyed deer;
Possums and skunks, not to fear! Whew!
On the sixth day God created the animals.
God made crickets, fireflies, marmots, muskrats,
Jaguar, walking sticks, radar guided bats;
Beavers, ferrets, woodchuck, raccoons -
Made the wolves who howl at the moon. Howl!
On the sixth day God created the animals.
God made crab and shrimp and gooey ducks
Lobster, cows, grasshopper ruckus;
Horses, ants and donkeys forlorn
But, God didn’t make a unicorn? Oh no!
On the sixth day God created the animals.
God made gophers, panthers, giant roly-poly bugs
Gold fish, spiders, clams in shells -so snug
Birds that swim and fish that fly
All these creations – my, oh my! My, oh my!
On the sixth day God created the animals;
Oh what fun to create all the animals;
Rolled up each sleeve to create the animals –
On the sixth day! Yeah!
Circular motions of mice dressed in vividly printed mushroom skirts. Could be acronyms for stars. Could bring the brooms to the brooks. Many a flea could clean a flowered stalk. While the emblem of an embroidered teacloth sits quiet in contemplation. Ears are easily drawn onto photographs of lions. It is not the intended job for the ghost yet mitigating circumstances mean that in a league of leaves can boil a great many kettles from rain spittle. Meeting a horned goblin in a shimmering jade field. Long grass. Bulging threatening eyes and large fangs. Nowhere to run from this crouched creature. Mindful of this the needle spins effortlessly producing sounds and in later times on earth a cradle of blue is a safe haven. Speak not of this beastly creation. It survives on fear. So jump into air with style and dance around the tree tops singing to the tiny birds whose flapping cam create harmonious auras. Take not a zebra to a castle to meet a big bear at a banquet. Busy are the peasantry. Take not a goblet to the fish eyed man with the sword. Tailor not a suit of armour for a shrew. And always listen to the harmonics of a lute. Deliver the items then to the vast expanse to the army tents. Canter across the country on an iron bred horse. Missions then. Musically arranged. Forest floor contains great wisdom. As the crone creates a herbal brew to cure all ills. As the curtains in theatres fall. As the wind of night arrives to sweep away penalising judgements and falsities. Then arrives the badgers with books. Hopping heaping hollering hollowed out tree trunks and a sunbathing elephant smiling in contentment. Play not a song of prawns or peas to a cactus plant as it is rare that it will induce changes. Streets of serpent swirl on a snowy day. Misted motions mandatory underground fortresses. Having a pleasant time then? Oh good. Now I will play with my fifteen rabbits,nine sheep,twelve octopuses and my fifty foot pig. Play. Power. Pleasing. Plenty. Part. Xxxx Avenue answering. X.
Form:
Ghillie Dhu.
Forests lie deep and dark with never ending looping paths,
Known only to those who dwell within and live their lives
In undergrowth and leaf litter fallen from tree tops high,
Like a carpet of leaf upon the ground shielding voles and little mice,
Where squirrels search and leap from intertwining branch,
In endless search for nuts to bury in the ground,
Saved for winters harshest time if only they could remember where?
Brightly plumaged jays may steal them for themselves,
As dusk descends on woody hall as crows and rooks circle,
Cushat –doos languid cooing a nightly lullaby,
Watching with wary eye the foxes as they prowl,
Badgers also brought out with promise of midnight feast.
Worms and grubs wriggle around lit by moon light ray,
Through the gloom stealthly walks like regal procession,
A group of red brown deer, great tines a top the head,
Crowning glory of king stag glinting with nightly dew,
Always alert watching and listening for the slightest sound,
Behind an ancient oak eyes watching them in grace pass by,
His hood drawn over his head ,his coat of leafy hue,
Fae light twinkles in his eyes breathing low and still,
The watcher of the woods is out protecting all those lost,
Showing the paths and trails to follow home to safety,
From out of wooded maze that confuses a strangers thought.
His name is spoken of in whispers and some fear,
Amongst the folk of villages and duns close to Celidon wood,
His aim is harmless and to help those in need and lead them away,
From harm and possible doom.
Ghillie Dhu is his name the spirit of the woods ,
Under midnight star collecting nuts and grains,
Mushrooms eaten as a snack as he wanders ,
With eyes sparkling bright observing all within,
Watching them all caring for them all,
A special guest at the Butterfly Ball.
© Andrew McIntyre,2016.
The belle of the ball and most frightening of all is Sticky Fingers McRaccoon.
He knows how to win, and how to get in, with his gang, of crazy ragamuffins.
He’s never invited, but won’t ever be slighted, as he comes along, for a crime.
And the birthday bash, yes, that he did crash… for a fun filled jolly old time.
We kept our eyes, on him, all the time, but found later, we’d been bamboozled.
As we watched him, someone broke in, and our shiny bobbles, had been hustled.
We were humbled to know, we’d been treated so, and vowed to get vengeance.
Instead of making a fuss, we got FunkunDilly, to follow him home, in silence.
You see, a squirrel can climb, and see, from way up in the trees, to reconnoiter.
Not only our goods, but all other’s too, were caught quite true, with our ardor...
While Sticky Fingers McRaccoon, slept with joyous dreams, of glorious plunder.
But when he woke up, he was surrounded by Trolls, with faces meaner than badgers.
Now violence is not what we sought, rather a job, that would suit them, quite well.
His plunder now gone, and clubs close in Troll hands, he agreed to, our bombshell.
He and his gang, were bespelled, by our neighbor witch, to forever live in Las Vegas.
With Trolls to supervise, a Magic McRaccoon Show, would be totally, tremendous.
McRaccoon wasn’t mean, he’d just lost his dreams, you see, that were so wonderous.
Now he was free, to make a great dream, in a way that was so bubbly, and contagious.
Siegfried and Roy, look out my boys, McRaccoon is on his way, to massive greatness.
All because he stole Lilly’s toys, and FunkunDilly had brought down their crimes, demise.
There would now be magical shows, where the front seats, would be ours, to plunder.
Trolls would arrive, to help at all times, as friends they all slowly, became, forever.
For those avid crossword groupies of which I are one,
I'm offering free of charge vital data to add to your fun.
So you're stuck on 15-down for the name of a barren of mules!
Groups of creatures you can now name if you use this set of rules!
A group of apes is a shrewdness and a gang of asses is a pace.
Tigers are a streak and you'd better streak should they give chase!
Can you believe that skittish plovers are called a congregation?
(I wonder, perhaps Baptist, Lutheran, Catholic or other denomination?)
You might see a cackle of hyenas or a tower of giraffes at zoos,
Or if on a Kenyan safari a bloat of hippos or a fleet herd of gnus.
The name for a prickle of porcupines is an appropriate moniker for sure!
A sleek bunch of ferrets is called a business, and, why, I'm unsure.
Pesky squirrels are called a scurry and a warren is for rabbits.
(There are many warrens of rabbits due to their promiscuous habits!)
Badgers are grouped as a cete and leopards are known as a leap;
Moles are known as a labor and a herd or drove identifies sheep.
Parliaments of owls meet in trees and eagles in convocations.
Jellyfish waft about in smacks and peacocks strut in ostentations!
Screeching cormorants are a gulp which sounds mighty weird.
Steer clear of a crash of rhinos since they are to be feared!
Charming finches are called a charm and larks an exaltation,
Turkeys a rafter, frogs an army and starlings a murmuration.
Locusts are known as a plague and cockroaches an intrusion.
An unkindness of ravens and their raucous caws just causes confusion!
Groups of humans are known as Republicans, Democrats or Nazarenes,
Jerks and morons but this barely includes all human species by any means!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
>I sent the following poem to my old employers. The RSPCA A year ago as the Badger was being exterminated in certain areas. Unfortunately, now it is in even more so I hope you do not mind if I share this poem with you.
FAREWELL MY BADGER FRIEND
All this land was ours once, oh so long ago.
Then man bought his cattle in, to share our pasture so.
Now they want to remove us, by killing us you see.
To try and eradicate the disease they call TB.
A nasty disease is TB of that there is no doubt.
But when I was here alone, there was none about.
So humans must have brought it, on a cow or two.
Now I’ve got to pay, for the mistakes you do.
So as you kill me and my friends, humanely I hope so.
I really hope it’s worth it, and that TB does go.
Be sad when you see my pasture where I did belong.
Bare of all the baggers who have all now gone.
Perhaps you will not kill us all, but I expect you will.
If not I hope I escape, I’ll really try I will.
But as you humans are so wise, or so they say you are.
Why don’t you vaccinate your cows, and leave us where we are.
You see I am TB free there is no harm in us.
And if you vaccinate your cows, they can live with us.
Spread the word my friends, if you do agree.
It’s better to save wildlife, than kill it off you see.
Well that is just the point, I really am so vexed.
For when the Badger's gone, who will be the next.
Please feel free to use the above poem as you wish, it’s too late for many Badgers but who knows if enough public support can be obtained perhaps the powers that be might reconsider their decision. It seems strange to me that so much interest can be shown of wild animals now extinct from bygone ages that here in the 21st Century man is hell bent on destroying a species, the mind boggles.<
Out west, near Black Hills, over South Dakota way,
On land where layered rocks records eons before –
Some thieves rode the badlands that hot steamy day.
Rough riding rustlers raided a ranch; stole a boar.
Those thieves took, tackle, grain, food, and wine grapes.
Two rife and rifled cowboys planned to settle the score!
Rugged and fearless with sweat on hot napes,
They rode where the rattlers and bull snakes call home.
Both galloped fast and hard … must not let thieves escape.
But they stopped with their horses when they saw bison’s roam.
Felt stillness; saw vastness; amazed, each life reshapes.
The wilderness teaches with its silent, “Shalom.”
Paused, distantly viewing weird-wonderful shapes.
Great towers of fossils that give wildlife a home.
Two soul-searching cowboys ponder nature’s landscapes.
While prairie dogs and cottontails run for the loam,
The bobcats and vultures look down on the plains.
And turtles stay still in their portable home.
The Bighorns and badgers walk gullies in rains.
Meadowlarks sing songs while pretty pronghorns prance.
There, valleys hide critters in flowers and grains.
It’s a desolate land; so, it seems at first glance.
Plenty of majestic views extending for miles,
Masking deadly dangers that stalk the great expanse.
But back on the ranch families stock up woodpiles,
They tend to the gardens, feed chickens, and cows.
Their work is quite hard but they manage with smiles.
The villains still steal and the farmers push plows.
But two soul-searching cowboys made Heavenly vows.
Copyright October 12, 2014
Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: Cowboys in the Badlands -
Sponsor Isaiah Zerbst