Long Foxes Poems
Long Foxes Poems. Below are the most popular long Foxes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Foxes poems by poem length and keyword.
Raccoons are in the parlor
Opossums are on the run,
Copperheads are in my harbor
They are having lots of fun
Chickens are in my windowsills
White tail foxes in the hall
Sweet piglets in the grist mill,
They are out to have a ball.
Koi fish in the kitchen sink
Unicorns surround the yard,
Rooster just gave me a wink,
He has fallen pretty hard.
Husband moved three years ago,
Animals too much for him.
Spider webs are giant so
There are no visits from the kin.
Whales are in my bathtub,
Cockroaches are in the kitchen.
Dogs and cats fight over grub,
T-rex’s toe is itch’ in.
Ants have commandeered the living room.
Sloths have taken over my bed.
I frankly cannot find any room
To lay my weary head.
Let us lose our hearts, within the heart of Nature, my love,
Let Eros and Aphrodite protect us from above;
These green leaves of the white jasmine trees whisper new romance,
Their shy buds, bloomed overnight, stealthily lay their first glance...!
The chain of blue hills and mountains embracing day and night,
Inspire us to walk together in our lasting love flight;
The evening sun hiding betwixt these spreads its golden rays,
Invite us to, midst hide and seek, must not miss our love ways...!
Red apples that tempted Adam and Eve quietly call,
Cherries and strawberries, and pomegranates attention haul;
Pigeons, parrots, and peacocks passionate night secrets share,
Mares and hares and foxes love their partners and, for them, care...!
Down the hills gold black blue blended sea waves and twilight kiss,
Drifting clouds their chats with the costume-changing sky don’t miss;
What could be a better date spot than this dearest sweetheart?
What else could our handheld walks and fervid embraces outsmart...???
09 February 2023
My Dream Date Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
You are sexy so you flaunt
Your body around and want
The attention from all guys
They are staring with big eyes
When you walk across the room
Their heads turn and start to zoom
In your direction with such ease
All they want to do is please
Every whim and wish for you
But you do not have a clue
There is just one reason they
Act in such a crazy way
The tight skirts, pants, even dresses
Turn them into nutty messes
Makeup covering your flaws
Painted nails look like claws
Hair is done up with such flair
Thongs instead of underwear
They don't see the realness
That is hiding behind this
True beauty is not in boxes
We can still be real foxes
With our kindness, acts and hearts
Not with fake and store bought parts
Look inside and bring it forth
Then you will find your true worth
Calm halts clouds swollen with snow,
they will resent the continuous blow
of the four winds of bitter February;
an unleashed snowstorm is pure fury!
An elated mood rises amid the air of glumness,
April rain is far from the mornings of tearfulness;
snowy meadows will return to their vivid lushness...
even winter birds can't wait for spring cheerfulness!
I fret thinking about isolated days,
activities are limited to sceneries;
be a skier and be ready for thrills:
see deer leaping on foxes' trails!
Walking is exploring the quite wilderness
under the glistening coat of magical whiteness;
Jays that ate berries miss their sweetness...
all birds rely on feeders on those harsh winters!
Travel the whitened roads of the stunning wilderness,
they offer reflective poets joyful quotes of stillness;
a long ride on a saddle horse going at a slow pace
opens up the landscape to a stream with a lively dace!
It was a Sunday cherry picker
Saints were coming not to bicker
We will take a few
Then on cue
Change them to
A special wine
And have a nice time
Mr. Bourne he did listen
Dreaming of a fantasy mission
Catching the hive
And staying alive
Missing St Mary
Saints knew this was not going carry
Mr. Bourne’s mouth
Was heading south
Before the first forty five
One went in, no lie
“This is not red,”
Mr. Bourne said
Thinking they were playing with his head
“And I am not dead.”
Looking to still get a point
Mr. Bourne kept himself in the joint
Until the final ticks
And the Saints dropped the kick
A shot they could not defend
At the very end
Adams gave it his best rib
Into the goal resting inside the nylon crib
Gold sands
Will be in relegation hands
Saying goodbye to the glitz and glamour
Sealing the high profile coffin using a hammer
Foxes headed to see the Lily in White
Needing something to stay in the top four team fight
Champions League fit was feeling right
Along came an honest test
Seeing if Foxes had anything to confess
Very early Foxes were a mess
Delivering the ball to the wrong address
Later on there was two from Kane
A double dip as per his fame
No one really had a complain
It was the final scoring in the game
Foxes still tied with the manuel Devils
For extra matches on an International tournament level
Noted there are two
Left for Man U
While Foxes have another against, you know who
Clever as foxes,
the children
hiding amid plume grass.
—Kobayashi Issa, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Even plume grass
waves farewell at last
to autumn.
—Kobayashi Issa, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
On the sleeping dog
gently descends
a leaf-hat.
—Kobayashi Issa, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Avert your eyes
while I poop in your field,
little wren!
—Kobayashi Issa, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
This stand of trees:
my head
just as barren of leaves.
—Kobayashi Issa, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Lacking common sense
out-of-season flowers
bloom on my fence.
—Kobayashi Issa, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
All alone,
babbling nonsense,
I toast the departing year.
—Kobayashi Issa, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Kyoto:
even beneath bridges
beggars toast the departing year.
—Kobayashi Issa, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Living alone,
one bottle suffices
for toasting the departing year.
—Kobayashi Issa, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Come what may,
trust the New Year to Buddha
despite his former failures.
—Kobayashi Issa, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A wind chime’s
bubbly babble
ends the year on a bright note.
—Kobayashi Issa, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
It takes two
temple nuns
to yank out one radish.
—Kobayashi Issa, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Berating
my heavy drinking,
the mountain cuckoo.
—Kobayashi Issa, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Slow, slow, quick, quick,
Slow, slow, quick, quick,
The vixen is teaching her cubs to dance,
The dance of the fox trot.
Slow, slow, quick, quick,
Mid-March marks the wild animal masquerade
As the crimson embers of dusk fade,
The worm moon is rising.
Stars swoon to the moonlit tunes
Of the song thrush and warbler,
More subtle and melancholic
Than the chorus of dawn;
The jazz of the chiffchaff
And nightjar acoustics.
Slow, slow, quick, quick,
Slow, slow.
The glade is spotlit,
Luminous, sublime and silvered.
Humble earthworms deep in the ground
Awoken and beckoned to the spring sound,
To the rise and fall of the dance.
The cubs’ eyes alight with secrets,
The vixen wears her finest gown
Silken, and lustrous,
Her dog fox cloaked in shadows.
Slow, slow, quick, quick,
Last summer's velveteen foxgloves
Silence the rhythm of her paws,
Beautiful but deadly.
He brushed in tails is a smooth elegance
Of sleek copper shimmer.
Slow, slow, quick, quick,
Slow, slow, quick, quick,
They gather as a promenade of hunters.
Let the carnival begin!
Wednesday, it was; Nineteenth, exactly if I must mention
Housewives, feeding kids and pets, were getting true tension
Eastward sky grew grey; impulsively, cattle rushed homewards
Nightingales, to sing of true love, tuned their trachea chords
Welcoming the moon and the stars on their valorous way
Habitats did bid goodbye to the scorching sunny day
Ethereal exuberance enhanced each environs
Naughty nocturnal nonpareils of April blow sirens
Wet with drizzles, weary winds wiped their whiskers on cool cloud
Howls of dogs, foxes, wolves, apes, and coyotes were heard aloud
Endless Rest promised the noxious sting of death has gone numb,
Nullifying negations, nature, notations new did hum
23 April 2023
I did a show in this tiny town called Longyearbyen. We went snowmobiling around Svalbard and saw Arctic foxes, snow bunting, polar bear footprints and almost got lost in a blizzard.
Bill Bailey
Footprint
Nonchalantly, the broach of a bear’s footprint.
Not any bear…a polar bear; and blizzard…
a blizzard to cover one’s tracks. Indeed, lost -
bobbing along on a snowmobile venture.
The twist and turn of fact and myth dangles
at the edge of a bluff. Still, I can see it -
a wild fox in a white fur coat, with its bushy tail,
and a snow bunting, in flight, with black-tipped wings.
A footprint is a funny thing…I am there,
transported to a frozen oddity. My eyeballs
ogling the path, digging deep, down into the tundra.
What more will I discover on the polar beat?
Will the bear follow me as I retreat?
2/18/2023
Writing Challenge -F
Constance La France
You know I'm just a lonely man
Walking down this here loney road
Lonely Street and as I walked past many fine women
Many fine foxes all walking in line
Straightened around I turn the corner
Dodging brothers, them militant brothers blazing about time Looking for a woman to put on the streets
Then it hit me thinking about you darling
You and I passed love affair
Sonic heartedly and blinded by the memories
Of you and I bump into this wonderful woman
This lady who's the matched curves vents and wrapped Around her body like the oceans waves
Her beauty that of a nightingale
What you are
Lord have mercy I pray this woman
I keep at bale
Couldn't match your ways
Right then darling I thought of you over the pain
And the grief right and I remember just where I was just where I am
I remember our last love affair
I remember it as if you were still there
Two people making love
Do you remember
The kissing booth and holding of hands
The melting and collaborating about minds
The taste of sweet honey from your lips
The warm and tender children we had plans two after marriage
Your now
And always be mine
You're an angel
She's an angel my, my, my girl
My world she is my angel
Girl you brought joy to my heart
Security a loving home
And family never no, no, no misery
A private phone
For when you want to be alone
Queen size bed
For you sleeping with all the tapestry and trappings
All this love and affection
Is just to give you protection
The man who will trade you in
Love your friend, came home all the time late
And you're asking him
Where he's been
Well I know it's not my mother
I know it's not my mother
And I know it's not my sister
And I know it's not my sister
She's not his lady no not that his woman
A white streak from the sky
A question to your lover why
If you left her would she cry
She's not a magician nor a clown or miracle worker
She's not some kind of backstabber
He's trying to put you down
Nevertheless I found she's an angel
She's an angel
She's an angel, yeah she's an angel
6/17/70
Written words by James Edward Lee 1970. 2020