Long Growl Poems
Long Growl Poems. Below are the most popular long Growl by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Growl poems by poem length and keyword.
at 6:18 a.m. there was a loud crash in the woods
It startled Ed due to the hours of silent prelude
He lifted his Browning 1885 high wall to his shoulder
Thinking he was about to get a Canadian moose
More unbelievable silence
This time Ed was anxious, watching, waiting,
He finally put the rifle down
Two grown grizzlies stormed out of the brush
heading toward him with lots of teeth and claws
Ed was lucky enough to be right next to his moose stand.
He swung himself up on the first rung and climbed as if to save his life
The snarling and growling lasted for hours
Ed curled into his sleeping bag
Attempting to quiet his triple-time-beating heart
Hair rose up on the back of his neck with each snarl and growl
Login’s For Me, Me, Me!
Some carers are shite, debasing and all that, not fit,
Because just when I’m speeding to end my session,
When they’ve come in on another patronising visit,
They come over, bend down and adjust their vision.
So I growl in a low voice “Wot?” and they even proceed,
To say “What are you doing?”, so I cover up the screen,
With my fist, glance to the kitchen, sit up and concede,
“Nothing,” then they recede back to where they’ve been.
I change my login each time a new carer starts,
‘Cos they peer, peer, peer at my action of entering,
The numbers, and don’t seem to understand their quarts,
Are not intelligent, that they are myself outmanoeuvring.
I can only change my passcode a certain few times,
Since I am not Kevin on Eggheads so only remember,
A handful of historical events for password recall oftimes,
And that memory efforts are not for my times of slumber.
It’s different if I’m playing a game, that’s communal,
High scores are topical and cheats are conversation,
But I never play, and even if I did, that’s personal,
‘Cos I’m not as quick anymore, feel like a station!
Written: December 26, 2023, For Robert James Liguori Contest
__________________________________________
Poem Inspired by Joe Bonamassa song: Cradle Rock
If I were a crib, would you allow me to rock?
In the soothing embrace of a lullaby talk.
Do you vow to watch out for me with care?
If I sway erratically through the air,
If I were an anchor, I'd secure your ship.
Sustaining you and not allowing you to dip.
Even when it storms, I'll hold you tight.
An unshakeable anchor built for the night.
If I turned an atom, I'd glide through the trees.
Could you view me? Could you hear my pleas?
Would you be struck by the facets of life's chart?
Could I potentially be inconspicuous amid my art?
If my mobile phone fails yet, I am outside.
Will you allow your dogs to lead me and guide?
Would you save me with a howl and a growl?
Do you zealously guard my desire and soul?
Should I be a baby? Could you let me fall?
Or will your hands wrap me and assist my crawl?
Would you tenderly supervise my first step?
And protect me from the chaotic misstep.
If I'm a felon, will you aim for my caught?
Or will you be able to set me free, fraught?
With caring eyes, could you sense my pain?
Allow me to gain relief by cutting this chain.
If I were a tiger, would you have me in a cage?
Or will you let me roam, wild and uncaged?
Will you accept my chaos and my savage desire?
Then will I ignite with ravenous zeal and fire?
Don't let the euphoria be the sole escape.
There's plenty else in life to relish and shape.
Discover your purpose and your drive.
And turn your ambitions and hobbies alive.
Yet if you are surrounded by fumes and haze,
You'll skip all the vibrant hues life displays.
Explore the world as if it were a white slate.
So much you may miss as you're at a fete.
Will you allow me to view if I am a night light?
Let your soul shine, and darkness will be bright.
Offering guidance while casting a soft glow.
An inspiration, no matter where you show.
It started out with one good boy,
A prehistoric, funny, little plushie toy,
His name was Gary, quite refined,
A murder floof with teeth aligned (yikes)!
They dressed him up in bowtie class,
He promptly bit a Swissman's—ahem—pass ;)
And now the Earth is not the same,
We built a world… that he reclaimed.
Howl if you love me!
Snarl if you care!
Growl like a Gary with your hindquarters bare!
The world went to wolves, and we let it go,
Now its Soup Poets in the Dire Wolf Show!
They brought back dodos, mammoths too,
But nothing howls like a biting Pack Review.
Dire wolves with influencer flair,
Lip-syncing threats on YOWL-AIR.
They run the banks, they run the press,
They run in packs—and rarely dress.
We tried to leash, to charm, to clone—
They turned Wall Street into a bone.
(I'm imagining a drum solo using two bones)
Howl if you love me!
Sniff if you're near!
Mark your emotions on the political sphere!
The humans had time, but they chose delay,
Now Brenda the Alpha makes laws her way!
One by one, the zoos rebelled,
The turnstiles snapped, the keepers yelled—
But Gary? He clung to a moose in a vest
And headbutted traffic through Megalocrat West.
He whispered low: “You had your chance.”
Then taught the wolves interpretive dance.
We watched them twirl in fur and fang,
While Congress chewed on squeaky slang.
Howl if you love me!
Clap with your claws!
It's hard to find rhythm in a world without laws!
A Poetry Soup contest in a canine parade,
Where the past came back, and it sure won’t fade!
So tie your fate in a dog-shaped bow,
This ain't a drill—it’s the Dire Wolf Show!
(outro)
We asked Sam Dumpty for his report,
Yeah, was kinda surprised by his retort:
Gary.. um, owooooo?
He’s still out there…
might be writing s soupie
on discarded pizza boxes.
Waiting...
Freeze and behold the glorious Tiger!
Don't dare stare down the Tiger.
Watch out! His predatory soul is burning
Look, his eyes are bright.
Silent. Still. He'll draw you in.
His glowing glare and sudden growl puts the
Strongest prey on edge. Chasing them into forests
Where his secret dens of
Family are. He rests in the
Busiest times of the day. But during the night;
Do you know what
His habits are? His immortal
Instincts set in. When conservationists set their hand
To cameras they capture the Tiger in action or
Sleeping. But always something to catch one's eye.
How on earth else could
We safely observe? How much to learn by frame.
Oh yes, dear nameless Tiger, thy
May be beautiful, mighty, fearful
And what could compare to your symmetry?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Tiger Tiger, burning bright,
in the forests of the
night; what immortal hand or eye,
could frame thy fearful symmetry?"
~~ William Blake~~
Dogs growl with their eyes.
Kittens, bleat like sleeping lions.
Simplicity says nothing,
the wise listen.
Everything is a conversation,
nothing matters.
The land is for sale,
The dead plant their
alien hearts deep,
spaceships orbit as empty
as long locked museums.
The future conspires
to be a conspiracy,
everyone knows,
yet the hurricanes
keep coming.
Now its winter
that is a problem.
Now it's summer,
millions die complaining.
Rats in labs bathe under
radioactive lamps.
They thrive.
It's science,
its global idiocy,
there is no mercy
for the dissenting.
it's any day, that ends in
a sleepless night
of near extinction.
You hear a scream
And you ascribe it to a cat.
You see the prints
Of tiny feet and larger hooves,
And you discount
The likelihood that they were shoes
Just ordered fresh from Amazon.
You never see a thing by day;
They hold their breath as you walk by
Or simply hide behind a tree.
Those cans of beer
That were discarded near the road,
The ones with matching sets of holes?
You didn’t stop to ask yourself
Why they are there and there are no
Tracks from a car or from a truck
Since it last rained
And washed the silt out in the street.
You give no thought
There might be creatures of the night,
But if you did,
It would explain an awful lot,
Like why you can’t find any of
The tools you swore you had put back,
And why your dog
will growl with all her might
At all those creatures of the night.
—————
For the Creatures of the Night poetry contest
Sponsored by Julia Ward
Written on 06/11/2022
Oh gather round the diamond on the grass,
Where the heroes spit out chewed baccy balls,
And scratch nine innings of baseball jackass,
With three strikes "Yer out!” the umpire calls.
The batter steps up, then steps aways,
Taps the plate, and struts with flair.
He wiggles the bat in twelve different ways,
Like he's swatting flies, here and there.
The pitcher rubs the ball in greasy palms,
Then stares to one side into the void.
A full-grown man in a pinstripes suit,
Throws a curve ball- the crowd's overjoyed.
The catcher flashes his secret signs,
Send it up, down, faster or looping slow,
Gotta catch them all unawares,
Avoid the walk balls if you cares.
The base men wear enormous gloves,
Like oven mittens made of rawhide.
The catch is more a bucket plop
With free hand poised to fall on top.
With bases loaded, the pitcher throws—
WHACK! It's a home run outta the ground
The show becomes a royal parade.
A slow-motion lap in the glade.
Swing low, sweet baseball sluggers,
Swing high to miss the walk 'n foul.
Four hours watching the pluggers
Scowl and growl, then throw in the towel.
As they miss a hundred pitches
For one single hit into the crowd.
Oh hail the glorious game of baseball—
Four hours of waiting for fun
Waiting for one home run!
Waiting for one home run!
Rumple Stein has a terrifying
midnight warning for children
who look for a late- night snack.
Deep within the woods
where the old shadows grow,
Rumple Stein whispers a secret
you must know.
"Never sneak a cookie when
the midnight bell tolls,
For that is the hour when the
beast truly strolls."
His voice is like gravel, his
eyes gleam with spite,
Warning little children of the
terrors in the night.
"The Cookie Monster waits in
the dark, cold and grim,
If you steal a treat, you will
surely meet him."
A shadow will stretch out
across the kitchen floor,
As a blue furry claw softly
pushes the door.
He won't want a wafer, a chip,
or a chew,
Instead, the fierce beast will
come hunting for you!
Your bones will be crumbled
like a dry chocolate chip,
As he catches your sleeve in
his terrible grip.
With a terrifying growl from his
bottomless cup,
The hungry blue gobbler will
swallow you up!
So lock up the cookie jar when the
clock strikes the hour,
Before you are trapped in the
monster's grim power.
No crumbs will remain where
you stood on the floor,
And the kitchen will stay silent
forevermore.
When it came to that dog's heart, his owner's death sure did break it.
He lost his master and his best friend and he simply couldn't take it.
He stayed at his owner's grave and he would continuously howl.
When I tried to move him, he snapped at me and he would growl.
I gave him food but he wouldn't eat and he starved to death.
He couldn't live without his owner and he took his final breath.
A veterinarian tried to help the dog but he growled and snapped at him too.
The vet wanted to save the dog's life but sadly, there was nothing he could do.
The dog was miserable and he was determined to die.
The vet and I couldn't save his life but we sure did try.
Now that dog is with his master in Heaven above.
He couldn't go on because he lost the human who he loved.