Long Beluga Poems
Long Beluga Poems. Below are the most popular long Beluga by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Beluga poems by poem length and keyword.
Abridged Alaska along the freezing Arctic edge
lives the ivory Polar Bear, a vigorous carnivore.
They enjoy eating the tough walrus, beluga
whales and seals. They can sniff out a seal’s den
up to a mile away. They only hunt and eat prey
every four to five days at a time.
Polar Bears are marine mammals spending time
on the ice, with thicker fur than any other bear.
The have layers of black blubber keeping them warm,
because those frigid temperatures can be rough!
When the snowy days begin to swarm, there’s
nothing colder than that Artic atmosphere.
Their flat feet are like oars for swimming and can
swim up to two hundred miles from land. They
have been known to swim up to six miles per hour
at any given time.
When they’re born they only weigh about one
pound and approximately twelve inches in length.
One of the tiniest mammals on earth, so intriguing
yet hard to comprehend.
Adult Polar Bears can grow almost ten feet from
nose to tail and weigh up to one thousand seven
hundred pounds.
Females can produce up to five litters in a lifetime;
the lowest of any mammal alive.
Mating season is late March through May, but sadly,
not all the cubs born can survive the climate.
These lazy bears rest up to twenty hours a day
for strength, yet do not hibernate like other bear species.
Polar bears are kindhearted yet persevere to survive.
They cool off by rolling around in the snow or
taking a dip in frigid waters. These adoring creatures
have no natural enemies, and have a soft and
delightful temperament.
Except females taking care of their cubs, Polar Bears
are mostly solitary mammals, enjoying daily life
by themselves.
Their lifespan can reach up to twenty-five years,
but they are still on the endangered species list.
How can we save the Polar Bears?
Polar Bears would benefit from reductions of
greenhouse gas emissions. Helping to reduce
climate change would help immensely. There are
only about twenty-five thousand Polar Bears left
in the world today.
May we all take care of the environment to
ensure the quality and quantity of these beautiful
animals.
Polar Bears Contest
December 4, 2017
Smith’s Octopuses Party On Pontoons
Rumor Has It My Dear
Rumor has it my dear something spectacular is near
Bring your batik hats to our grand lavish scene
Wear flowing Kebeya robes
Let them flow in the air
We’re having our party upon the ocean
On pontoons made of bamboo notions
Flown in from Indonesia with crews
Planks will connect all the segments
Chris Christie will help with construction
Bridging rafts with bamboo shoots & roots
(We understand he understands bridges)
Yachts will punctuate the festivities
Covered in purple red flowers with care
Tied to the floating swaying affair
McCartney and Sting will be there
Octopuses Garden is the theme
And Paul will bring Ringo to sing
The Clinton's and Bushes are on the list
Paparazzi will see if they kiss or do tricks
And who can resist our guests of honor
Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt
The main menu is set like this;
Foie gras loco moco carne
Matusaka beef
Pheasant/Mallard breast roast
Beluga Sevruga, Osetra caviar
Goût de Diamants, Taste of Diamonds champagne
Haute chocolate ice cream
This all seems like a dream
We pray that the weather holds up
The only waves we wish to see is from us
In the form of greetings and pleasantries
The party has been planned for ages
If storms should gather
It won’t really matter
We’re thankful
The Royals, Mr.& Mrs. Smith are here
To weigh down pontoons and rafts
With billions in sacks of gold trinkets
Door prizes for sure, (sorry no doors), for those who attend
500 guests will arrive at the gala
A date with Mick Jagger and two jaguars
Assured for each person as gifts guaranteed
Compliments of King & Queen Smith
Whose parties should never be missed
A mystery guest, no surprise
A legend in his own mind
Mr. Trump and his hair might arrive
Since the pope is preoccupied
We’ll sway to the music with fine company
All are welcome to our heavenly scene
At the octopuses party on the sea
7/11/14 Rumor Has It contest
You take for granted that people understand your rhythm.
You take for granted that everyone knows how to sing.
You have been rowing the little boat in the great big ocean.
Spilling water into my face and flooding the place, the ship is leaking, and you have to find the holes and seal them up before the queen Elizabeth sinks.
I don’t know how to read musical note and I cannot drive a gigantic boat, but I can use my common sense and move the boat out of the stagnant water, it has been docked there for many years waiting of an adventurer to take it out to experience the vastness of the sea and see the wishing stone that lies beneath the ocean. You are far away from home but keep rowing, you will find your way home.
This thing has been going on for too long and the people don’t understand your jumbled up song, what do you want them to do? I still do not have the slightest clue.
I do not know what you want to achieve, and what you have up your sleeve, every five minutes the rhythm change, and this action is driving the people insane. They have to drop what they are doing and march though the iron gate and before they reach the middle of the street, they are walking into another beat, and a new rhythm sets in.
Nobody tells me what is going on; I have to rely on my external sensation and intuition. I don’t read symbolism or body language, I don’t work out at the gym, and I don’t understand your colors scheme.
We just want to have a sense of normality, peace, love and stability, but every time I steer the boat this way, someone steer in it the opposite way. Something has to be done to fix your confusing song.
You must separate the ocean sunfish from the beluga stuvgon and give everyone a written message and tell them what to do, you must change your current communication method and gather the multitude in front of the hill and give everyone a circle a heart and a triangle and tell them the truth just as it is.
I will have grilled snapper and trout for my Thursday evening supper; I need a seafood doctor because the people still don't know what the order is.
Trickle Down Economics
By Franklin Price
6/10/2017
Trickle down economics has been around for quite awhile
Makes the rich so very happy doesn't make the middle smile
Puts the masses at the beck and call of the increasing super rich
They tout they did it by themselves that life is such a *****
Their message to the middle class and the many working poor
How can I be a billionaire if I have to pay you more?
Too many regulations and controls are put on me
Think I deserve a tax cut for my new company
How can I be the top ten of the richest in the land?
If I trickle down and share my wealth from this high place that I stand
How can I fly my private jet to my latest custom yacht?
If I pay a living wage to all the workers I have got
If the minimum wage is raised again it will put a strain on me
I'll raise the price of all my goods and services you'll see
Otherwise, how can I maintain the rich man that I am
Eating fresh Beluga Caviar with my workers eating spam
If you force me, I will take my high labor cost offshore
I've done it in the past not afraid to do once more
Do not expect high tariffs on goods returned back here
I've spent money well in Washington, at times it was quite dear
That's how I've used my money that's reserved for trickle down
To influence those who make the laws who think they wear a crown
What else would you expect of me, a higher pay for you?
Much cheaper to put a lot in the pockets of a few.
A Celebration of Apathy.
Cellophane smiles devoid of feeling,
Saccharine laughs hollow and tinny,
Frigid words wrapped in rich syrup,
Cashmere shawls thrown over sleek shoulders,
Beluga spread on lightly buttered toast,
Champagne kisses stripped of passion,
Happy days and feast-filled evenings,
Devouring canapés, sipping Martinis,
Empty banter seducing thoughtless puppets,
Opinions flung around like soiled underwear,
Vacations planned while on vacation,
Banquets,
Lush parties,
Inebriated soulless cadavers cackling,
As flesh and blue-chip options are traded,
Lipstick imprints on fine cut-glass,
Silk suits barely concealing hard-ons.
Screwing, ****ing, laughing, posing,
Pretty people in designer camouflage,
Blind to a billion naked children,
Deaf by design to tired cries,
Mouths unable to whimper,
Stuffed with Kobe beef,
Consciences guillotined,
Screwing, ****ing, laughing, posing,
As God looks down benevolently.
Filling mosques, temples, synagogues,
Stuffed into churches, coffee-shops, delis,
Praying on bended knee for absolution,
imploring a higher power to deliver,
Yet more Kobe beef,
Beluga Caviar,
Cashmere shawls,
Silk suits,
So that the screwing, ****ing, laughing, posing,
Remain wrapped in cellophane smiles,
So that the saccharine laughs never cease,
While apathy secures yet another 100 year lease.
Form:
Here I am...just a tiny Krill
Alive and well, swimming still.
I wasn't eaten like my buddy Hank
Taken by a Beluga, before he went off to the tank.
My only safety has been in our school
One whale, however, can instantly reduce that pool.
I always shudder at the thought of being eaten alive
When all I want to do is swim and survive.
But we Krill are so special in the food chain you see
I don't know if I will see my hopes, or if they will die with me.
I'd like to turn the tables on those whales just once
See how they'd like it, if upon them I'd pounce.
Oh, to be able to eat just one of those creatures
To digest it then burp, as I enjoyed all its features.
They are the biggest things I have ever seen
And that's o'er all the earth, wherever I've been.
You wouldn't think that such a tiny creature like me
Would have to ever be ready to swim in a hurry.
But you know, when I really think about it I see
Just what the attraction is in a creature like me.
We are small and quick and abundantly abound
I suppose we are tasty, or they wouldn't be around.
We know that we are just simple little Krill
What we don't know is...when is the time for us to be killed.
A grayish blue beluga whale arrived two minutes too late.
The whole committee yelled "no" before half past eight.
Fifteen minutes later, a filthy, smelly camel tromped in,
Making the whole committee laugh out of their skin.
A lion tried to enter, roaring with all of his might.
We knew we couldn't get him back out without a fight.
So we barricaded the door, and we shushed each other,
And we tried not to argue, which was hard for my mother.
There wasn't any problem until three days ago.
We had no beefs, and it had not yet snowed.
Our ideal window washer has been here forever and a day.
He’d be here still if the good Lord had not taken him away.
He was here yesterday, the big, giant cad.
But he's dead now, and we're all spitting mad.
This committee was hastily assembled in the aftermath.
Fred had been here forever and a day, our own smart giraffe.
He’d washed our windows, he’d sorted our mail, he’d spoiled us rotten,
And now he was resting outside in a soft fluffy field of cotton.
“No, sorry, we’d say quickly, without fear.
Wishing Fred would wake up and come running back here.
But the giraffes cannot go on after they're dead,
So we ended up hiring a stack of monkeys instead.
Days after the surgery I was not myself.
A millennium of stuttering expeditions
through metallically gleaming brain-tunnels
illuminated by a flickering
sixteen millimeter movie camera
shuttered my wandering soul.
The hospital was empty
except for one pretty nurse, and a few
demented ghosts---their exposed bottoms
gawking like beluga whales
from the cracks of ice-white gowns.
I walked the bare corridors on spindly legs
borrowed from an old horny man.
Those legs kept me chasing the pretty nurse
even though I knew the surgeon
had successfully removed my libido
and fed it to the hospital cat.
I found her as I drifted through
the intestinal coils of a prone delirium.
She stood before a brick incinerator
its iron door gaping wide.
The oven fumed, fed it seemed
by the desires of spectral dreamers.
The nurse undressed
throwing her uniform into the fire.
Blowing me a kiss
she jumped silently into the flames.
‘I must be out of my mind’ I thought.
The person who was not myself
turned, seeking a bed
where tubes dripped a steady flow
of surreal cravings.
That night I strapped a laptop to my eyes;
then tucking my tail between my legs
I wrote a love letter to the hospital cat.
Have you ever been to the Arctic
and heard the "Tickling of the Ivories"?
That is the time when the Monodons
joust each other with their singular parries.
They have one thing in common...
A singular tooth that the males wear with pride.
They can swim, dive, and breach the water
on their 18 ft. plus sides.
They can move swiftly like the dolphin
when thru the water they glide.
They are not looking to skewer a meal
as in the ocean they hide.
What are these special creatures
that roam the seas so deep.
Their tusks were hunted in the middle ages
as Unicorn Horns for Kings to keep.
Related most closely to the Beluga
Linnaeus described them in 1758.
But they were well known hundreds of years before
As Vikings sought their tusks so great.
They do not eat Krill as do most whales
But dine on Halibut and Cod.
Their tastes are truly exotic
As they hunt within their pod.
They click and clack to each other
when they do communicate.
The future is getting tenuous
As to what will be their fate.
These are beautiful creatures whose 'Porpoise'
may be related to them all.
They have been oft featured on the Nature Channel,
We know them simply as "Narwhal".
In the semblance of my darkest
side lie the sunlight after me,
In the dark blue face was a
smile that only a select few could see.
Only a few that fishes
like me when we see the snakefish
Maybe a glowworm or two in
my wake, still, I am onto Kinyeti's peak
as a sad Giant long-legged katydid recasting into a camel to save thy naught, yes thy naught
Though I thought Weddell was
a sea of stars, I was at the end a
Beluga Whale grinding Lulo Rose's diamond
Morrow, morrow, morrow
mermaid promise keeps me going
to the seaside, scary you, scary we
She turned me into a jellyfish.
She put death onto the ghost that heist
me off my kiss, Oh my lips, it is blood
at night, lips in the light, a waterless smile
in the twilight
Semblance Dark, a death oath for a hairy head, a death oath for shaving even one middle-of-the-head hair. Scary ghost, scary clown
Struggling for my stolen heart, stolen heart
hid in the middle of the Cretaceous.
Happiness, for gumiho
O gumiho, stop taking them, I know
thy idea. I offer you Gum, yes O Gum
Tears and tears for the darkness
Sleep and sleep in the glow
It is for the duck of thy dark side, my
dark side, their dark side.