Long Chipmunk Poems
Long Chipmunk Poems. Below are the most popular long Chipmunk by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Chipmunk poems by poem length and keyword.
Blessed Are The Trees.
God made trees,
the oak,
willow and
birch.
They house his small creatures and build him a church.
A dogwood,
a maple,
or a prickly old pine,
some trees can grow fruit like small clementines.
A chipmunk,
a gecko,
or even a sloth, can find a safe home in a high tree loft.
And so can birds that sometimes eat bugs,
like crickets,
and beetles,
or even a slug.
Your blocks, your table, and even your chair,
all came from a tree that was planted somewhere.
A branch to climb on,
a nice place to rest,
a tree can hide a robin's nest.
So plant a young tree, hug an old tree and pray in its shade.
Just thank God for that tree and all the trees that he made.
Early one morn the sun did sink
in the west as the moon arose
And Farmer Jones inspected his rose
of purple corn, which began to dance
Shedding sheaves, donning pants...
While in the barn, the cow was neighing
at Ed the horse, professorially saying
That Oscar the penguin had quacked his last quack
unless the Porcupine's magic needles bring him back...
Back in the house, Mrs. Jones was a-me-owing
at her pet bird Elvis, who was busy massaging
The tummy of the chipmunk, Rufus, a big of a doofus
while her rattlesnake, "Nixon," was clearly a-fixin'
To tickle Farmer Smith's duckbill platypus
though that really shouldn't matter to us...
A miracle happens every single minute ---
the sun comes up, the moon goes down,
The world turns round --- But they remain unreceived
~ unless there's something unusual in them perceived
From the north he came nimbly in the night
Softly silently bombing blanketing buds
Saturating each single stem
Snowy sneak attack barraging bombarding bark
Wracking white war-like wonder
With relentless wrath and rage
Cardinal calling watching in wonder
Bright crimson claret buried between alabaster boughs
Chipmunk and squirrel shell-shocked
By snowy shrapnel scamper to shelter
Relentless yet irrelevant retreating rush
Futile effort from frosty frothy forces
Spring stands inescapable
Flowers and flakes conflicted
Spring snowflake and spirea stand strong
Bravely bearing banners high
As if to say, try as you may
Your day has passed ‘tis spring at last
Ol’ man winter wanes wails and warns
I shall seize the season someday soon …
Inspired by the 5”- 6” snowfall we have on March 26, 2011
after we had 80 degree weather last week.
A group of animals very close to a strawberry farm was spotted by a female fairy, one early evening. She was delighted for seeing, hearing six different animals talking to each other again.
The cat said to the leveret, "Meoww..."
The leveret nodded while watching and listening to everybody in the group.
The third animal, a chimp, laughed out loud for showing his new discovery -- a big, orange-colored watermelon.
The fourth animal, a squirrel, was amazed by the strength of the chimpanzee -- clapped and praised the chimp.
The fifth animal, a male woodpecker, telling everyone that he'll always look for food each day for all of them. They only need to help him get the food for them.
The fairy noticed that the sixth animal, a chipmunk, is weeping... the other five animals noticed it too.
The chipmunk was asked by the leveret, "Why are you crying?..."
The chipmunk replied, "We will be scolded again. This is the third time the chimp stole a watermelon from the same old farmer!"
(The fairy knows it's a pumpkin that was brought by the chimp this time, not a watermelon.)
Carrying a sleeping baby.
Cleaning after a successful party.
Camping beyond mountains more mountains.
Playing trumpet on the streets of New York City.
Eating although the food supply is deeply compromised.
Flying with Democrats and Republicans, evangelicals and atheists.
Flying like a fruit fly that won’t quit mating.
Cool as a hummingbird in the stream’s wet spray.
Abstaining wholly, absent from worldly life.
Two dogs fighting but not biting hard.
Chanting as if the planet were mending.
Gourmet dining, devout prayer, loving Mary.
Evenings watching tv. Scotch and Star Trek.
Taking off Emily Dickinson’s clothes.
Meeting in the meeting house, arguing and praying.
Planning a legacy as if you knew enough to control events.
Pursuing happiness as a naturalist or humanist.
Spinning with the planet, performing the history that surrounds us.
Killing many Germans, saving many Jews.
Doing less until one thing’s done well.
Fainting from staring at candles through stained glass windows.
Morning, a billion trillion nuclear detonations per second warming your
bones.
Manipulating symbols, solving equations.
Disregarding tweets and facebook persuasions.
Sitting with a tiny Buddha by a rushing stream cutting a gorge.
Running, disciplining myself, making myself healthy.
Ingesting drugs, throwing die, drinking sludge.
Growing varicolored corn.
Participating in the cause because it’s impossible not to participate in
the effect.
Running over a chipmunk, groundhog or a skunk.
Lying face down in the emergency room facing doom.
Waking up Monday thinking Sweet Saturday! but soon remembering your
trick knee.
Turning the towering young thunder of my anger against my sons.
Regretting the callow dispassion with which I met my parents’ quietus.
Lawn mowing, leaf blowing, yapping dogs, napping old people.
No jets but a rooster mornings, cows and goats.
Al is painting an apartment. Sirma is cleaning the floors. Felix is taking
out the garbage.
Deciding tentatively I slightly prefer Heifetz’ to Oistrakh’s Sibelius.
No cedar waxwings, no chickadees, but beautiful moon!
If you’re alone as you get, why are you crying?
Bold and brazen he comes lumbering across my garden paths
determined to sample my tomatoes, squash,
a cucumber, a broccoli, a pepper or even flower.
That solid, chubby interloper.
Unlike the welcomed chipmunk
who comes cautious and timidly
and makes his way through the undergrowth
to steal away the birdseed and fallen fruit.
The chubby, burly groundhog
hurries to his focal point
my tasty fruiting vegetables
and tastes each at his pleasure
but
with a sudden shout from me
and the bark of my attentive companion
the thief is on the run.
He is gone
disappearing under the fence
through the hole he dug
gone to sample someone else's goods
Autumn's changing colors beckon me,
as I follow a spunky squirrel scampering into the woods.
Nature welcomes me as an old friend
that hadn't visited in a long while;
triggering a release of endorphins that fuel my smile.
My excursion gets noted by a jaunty woodpecker;
tapping out a distant drum roll, as I navigate
through a shifting sea of crisp, crunchy leaves, obscuring the trail.
The air feels nippy, chilled by a brisk breeze,
tickling scarlet, crimson, and cerise leaves;
till they laugh and fall from the trees.
A chatty chipmunk scolds me
as I trespass through its territory, paying it no heed.
And I smell the subtle, spicy scent of earth and decay
while I wander through Fall's tapestry of color,
woven with threads of yellow, amber, orange, and vermilion.
Autumn's beauty holds the power to heal the soul;
and Mother Nature is its custodian.
A peaceful backyard in the ‘burbs,
With grass and birds and trees;
And watching from the window,
I saw leaves dance in the breeze.
Then suddenly a cat appeared
(I’ve seen it there before)
And it was playing cat and mouse,
Though I feared something more.
I stepped outside and realized
My suspicions were quite sound
For a chipmunk was the creature
Being batted all around.
When the cat looked up and saw me,
Then the game came to an end.
With the chipmunk in its mouth,
That feline vanished ‘round the bend.
Plainly peace can be deceiving
Yet it’s really rather chilling
To watch birds and bees and breezes
And to also see a killing.
~My Nutty Squirrel Poem~
Up in a tree, on a branch
Now you see me, now you don't!
Sneaky and fast, I'm adorable
Now, why would you hunt or shot me for fun?
Do you like, how fast I run?
I'm not just another chipmunk
Stuffing my face with nuts,
I'm classy and beautiful,
The best part of nature.....
Red pointed ears, I hear you drawing near.
Chuckle, chuckle, caffeine free
I saw you looking at my fine coat.
Fluffy and curious, touch me and I'm Calling PETA!
See YA--- Life Is Beautiful!!!
I'm stuffing these nuts back into my mouth
and Jumping onto another tree :) The End
........
Love The Squirrel from another World.
Love LINDA
Reflections on the Loss of Vision
by Michael R. Burch
The sparrow that cries from the shelter of an ancient oak tree and the squirrels
that dash in delight through the treetops as the first snow glistens and swirls,
remind me so much of my childhood and how the world seemed to me then,
that it seems if I tried
and just closed my eyes,
I could once again be nine or ten.
The rabbits that hide in the bushes where the snowflakes collect as they fall,
hunch there, I know, in the concealing snow, yet now I can't see them at all.
For time slowly weakened my vision; while the patterns seem almost as clear,
some things that I saw
when I was a boy,
are lost to me now in my advancing years.
The chipmunk who seeks out his burrow and the geese now preparing to leave
are there as they were, and yet they are not; and though it seems childish to grieve,
who would condemn a blind man for bemoaning the vision he lost?
Well, in a small way,
through the passage of days,
I have learned some of his loss.
For, as a young boy I endeavored to see things most adults could not—
the camouflaged nests of the hoot owls, the woodpecker’s favorite spots.
But now I no longer can find them, nor understand how I once could,
and it seems such a waste
of those far-sighted days,
to end up near blind in this wood.
Keywords/Tags: reflections, loss, vision, visionary, child, childhood, eyesight, perspective, perceptiveness, acuity, age, aging, cataracts, blindness, time, days, years, decades, near-sighted, far-sighted