Long Gerbils Poems
Long Gerbils Poems. Below are the most popular long Gerbils by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Gerbils poems by poem length and keyword.
Jonah invented the whale
The first man ever to sail
He went round the globe
In his best Sunday robe
His invention was destined to fail
For Noah had plans for an ark
It’s construction no walk in the park
It took a few years
Some blood sweat and tears
But finally Noah made his mark
His wife tried most every ruse
To convince him to go for a cruise
He said, “I’ve been told
To fill up the hold
With gerbils and bush kangaroos”
They brought on the creatures in pairs
The rhinos and hippos downstairs
But space was so tight
Some put up a fight
Especially the grizzly bears
When the rains came the ark was a float
And Noah, on the bridge he did gloat
Saying “didn’t I say?
It would happen one day”
Said his wife “I could rip out his throat,
This is not what most folk call cruising
With gorillas and lemmings and ewes in
My cabin at night
It just isn’t right
I don’t find it very amusing”
So Noah’s wife concocted a plot
To scupper her hubbys new yacht
With her turn at the wheel
Her nerves she did steel
And crashed into Mount Ararot
My husband comes in and says “Pack up! We are moving!”
It is a game that he plays, frequently, for he usually hates someone.
I am thrilled to death of course, so I begin dancing and grooving.
Pack up three gerbils, two dogs, three daughters. What fun!
What a great time for me! I think as I quit yet another school.
At this rate I shall never have a degree of any kind at all.
We eat cereal again, for the pans are packed, which is so cool.
I am starting to load the van up with sixteen boxes from the hall.
Moving! You just got here! Says a neighbor who does not understand.
What it is like to be married to a “green grass is there” kind of man.
I yell at my sister and mother to come over and give me bit of a hand.
They get here after I have filled up our make-shift moving van.
Can you please just take the sixteen bags of garbage to your place?
Vacuum the house and lock the door and return the key to Grace?
My relatives know the score; they stare at me, shaking their heads.
I give a jaunty wave, and jump in the van, eager to put up our beds.
My flexibility has been recorded by practically no one
Yet it is my greatest, most brilliant, terrific superpower.
I have moved thirty-seven times, and have had twenty-eight jobs.
Along for the ride were three daughters and a zoo of animals.
My husband used to come in and say “pack up, we’re moving.”
We moved dogs, cats, hamsters, gerbils, guinea pigs, rabbits.
We moved and moved and moved and moved and moved.
I ended up attending over thirty colleges, some no longer than two weeks.
I am flexible, I told myself, I am bendable, I will not break. I will smile.
I jumped into new situations with enthusiasm, hope, eager to please.
I found friends, I volunteered, I played hard, I walked, I ran, I played hard.
Flexibility is my most obvious super power, and I have done well with her.
'Tis well known that when medicating cats they can become rather crabby,
So, this free advice is provided when feeding pills to the family tabby.
As if holding a baby, cradle the cat in the crook of your left arm.
(Wrapping both arms with towels wouldn't do any harm!)
Putting pressure to the cheeks, open his mouth, jamming the pill down his maw.
(Apply bandages to the gashes on your jaw left by Felix's lethal paw!)
Since he wouldn't swallow the pill, pick up the soggy mess from the floor,
And try to tackle the little rascal as he streaks for the open door!
Next, kneel on the floor with the cat firmly gripped between your thighs.
(Enlisting your spouse's aid to subdue the critter would be very wise!)
Place the pill on the end of a drinking straw and blow it down his pharynx.
(Taking care not to swallow the pill yourself or damage his delicate larynx!)
After using naughty and nasty language that is here best left unsaid,
And coaxing the rowdy patient from beneath the king-sized bed,
Try forcing his clamped jaws open with a handy tablespoon.
(Then, pick up the shattered vases that all about the room are strewn!)
After chasing the scoundrel around the neighborhood on an exciting spree,
The fire department should be called to rescue Felix from the neighbor's tree!
Then, call the local animal control people to pick up the cat from hell!
Later, call the pet store to see if they have gerbils, fish or parakeets to sell!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Some days, it's best to keep still!
One needs to get some rest.
And abuse of your time might make
you quite ill.
Get off-line, enjoy your time on earth,
It is, after all, the very best!
Alas, we are at Times like gerbils in cages!
We run on endless treadmills
That desire to be Number One, wildly rages.
Take time to be centered, be you,be loving and be still.
We are not our poetry, nay, we are far more than than that.
There is a world that needs tending to.
We are humans that think, and more
intelligent than any cat!
So, take a breath, relax,, close your
eyes, outdoors in your best sun hat.
8/23/2021
1
Form:
And so it begins … my crew will over treat
themselves to ample chocolate for I have just stuffed our
pantry sweetly-full again:
No one will know why the stocked, offered sweets, meant to last
about a week were otherwise offed before two full days passed;
All will be equally mute and dumb about sweet crumbs in play
room, den, beds, and chocolate lint-hit debris inside pockets;
No one will claim a food mess made and left to be discovered,
no, they will all blame pals, fictitious gerbils and each other;
When a sweet ingredient vanishes that I bought for a recipe,
no family peep will be able to describe or imagine its demise;
and, despite my threat of live yard burial, they steal my favorite,
small chocolate morsels to top off their bowls of cereal.
I have a good-sized, hidden, box stocked full of the best stuff.
Looking thru cleaning products would be conduct void of any
profit so I am confident my stash, by child or spouse, will never
be found.
I often hide in my closet to suck or chew my way to chocolate
heaven. When eat-hiding, I fuss about my kids lack of desire
raring to thread a needle of ambition to sew up some
consideration.
All of my offspring take after their dad; they are myopic and
episodic. They overeat, overly zoned out on electronics like lab
rats on narcotics.
My child came home from kindergarten and said
“My teacher Mrs. Ballywack is so NICE!”
I was amazed; I had not heard anything good about the woman.
“She said, Tracy Krutsinger, if you think you are so smart,
You can come up here and teach the class!”
I love it that sarcasm did not hurt her.
She is too upbeat and positive to recognize it.
She has been a joy to us her entire life.
Now she brings us her children, who are also joys for us.
They have dogs, cats, and gerbils.
They are open minded, and love everyone.
And none of them would recognize sarcasm.
How marvelous is that? They have such a great mom!
Here I am in MY domain surrounded by obnoxious creatures;
A motley range of beings with odd and varied features!
All I want is some food, a place to snooze and a little peace,
But all I get is harassment - it never seems to cease!
I abhor that scrawny parrot and his stream of dirty words,
And the constant din of that clutch of noisy, twittering birds!
If I so much as meow or purr, I'm banished from the room
By a screeching two-legged omnivore chasing me with a broom!
That mongrel cur even gets to sleep with them in the bed,
And all in all it seems that he is better fed.
He gets away with breaking things with his swishing tail,
But if I so much as nip her plants, boy, at me she'll rail!
I'm forever getting yelled at for one thing or another:
"Get away from the baby's crib else the little dear you'll smother!"
"Quit pestering the dog!" "Get your paws outta the fishes' bowl!"
"Stop teasing the gerbils - cat, you really try my soul!"
I'm tempted to saunter to the barn and shmooze with the cattle,
And forego all this nonsense and no longer fight the battle.
But no, I take pleasure in sticking around to hear them sneeze!
Seems I create some kind of allergy wafting on the breeze!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© 2014 All Rights Reserved)
Thirty-seven moves in my married life.
I jumped into each new situation ready to make friends.
There is almost always something I like about everybody.
I drag them home to introduce them to my husband.
He’s not as fond of people as I am.
Now I had friends.
Bam!
We moved again.
One time a minister came to welcome me to the neighborhood.
She was too late. I had been there a month.
I was rude, because I was busy packing.
Moving again.
Another time my children got on a school bus with three gerbils.
To give them away, because we were moving across country.
Two enormous dogs and three cats were enough trouble for the car ride.
Moving became my way of life.
People asked if my husband was in the military.
They knew I wasn’t because I did not have combat boots.
He didn’t either, but no one knew him or me.
Because we were always moving.