Long Horse fly Poems
Long Horse fly Poems. Below are the most popular long Horse fly by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Horse fly poems by poem length and keyword.
Do DINOS SOAR, do fish have SOLE
Do elephants have ANTS in their PANTS
Have you ever seen a HORSE FLY
Or a FIRE that's started by ANTS
A PEA CAN go wherever MAN GOES
Does a CROC know how to DIAL
Do you think every HIPPOS A MUST
Can laughing hyenas just SMILE
Do MANTIS PREY, does DON have a KEY
Is there always at least TEN in a KIT
CRYSANTHA'S MUM is such a pretty thing
Do LIONS tell the truth just a bit
If a PELI CAN, would she wear a Z BRA
Does WILL OWE anybody money
Does SNOW have a FLAKY personality
A bear's favourite would BEE HONEY
Are DILLS always DAFFY as far as you know
Can CUMULUS CLOUD your view
Are there some trees that are EVER GREEN
Why are BOOBY'S feet always BLUE
If you can answer any of these questions
Write me at seventy-seven Cuckoo Lane
I'd sure like to hear from all you folks
To prove that I'm not going insane
©Jack Ellison 2012
Do DINOS SOAR, do fish have SOLE
Do elephants have ANTS in their PHANTS
Have you ever seen a real HORSE FLY
Or a FIRE that's started by ANTS
A PEA CAN go wherever MAN GOES
Does a CROC know how to DIAL
Is every HIPPOS A POT OF MUSH
Can laughing hyenas just SMILE
Do MANTIS PREY, does DON have a KEY
Is there always at least TEN in a KIT
CRYSANTHA'S MUM is such a pretty thing
Do LIONS tell the truth just a bit
If a PELI CAN, does she wear a Z BRA
Does WILL OWE anybody money
Does SNOW have a FLAKY personality
A bear's favourite would BEE HONEY
Are DILLS always DAFFY as far as you know
Can CUMULUS CLOUD your view
I hear there's some trees that are EVER GREEN
Why are BOOBY'S feet always BLUE
If you can answer any or all of these questions
Write me at seventy-seven Cuckoo Lane
I'd sure like to hear from all you folks
To prove I'm not going insane
© Jack Ellison 2015
(A Re-broadcast)
My pain level is an eight on a scale of one to ten.
Poor you, someone says. Someone who has no idea
That I have been running on pain levels of ten for three weeks.
An eight is terrific; great, something to strive for tomorrow.
Shingles has taken me hostage, inside my own house.
My body is her host, my mind wondering what I have done
in this lifetime or any other that was so bad that I deserve
a punishment like this.
I finally figured out today if I am sitting on a cold pack,
my pain level goes down to an eight. It took me two E.R.
visits, four days in a hospital and trying everything I could
fathom I could stand before I stumbled upon this wondrous idea today.
My skin is so hyper-sensitive that a horse fly landed on my
arm today and it felt like a honeybee digging a stinger into me.
The morphine pain pills did not cut it, so I got something else.
I hate to tell you, but they are not as effective as the morphine pills.
I have never in my life felt this level of pain.
I know there is a reason but I have no idea what it is.
I hope that I have suffered enough for all of my family and
All of my friends because I have suffered enough for every one of you.
Sinking butterflies drip from the cocoon of consciousness
which no bee nor horse fly could understand for a blink,
and which even humans wish could retreat to the fallen:
Of a body, of a vein, of a spot across a field.
In what daisy does that petal float
where it found it's fateful bee that resists its wings.
Threats from the concrete river keep it mulling,
always waiting for the stem reincarnate.
Why caterpillar nor sunflower betroth it gift
is a bee's greatest myth.
While men worry of time not spent changing
black and yellow armies collapse with no wars raging.
Ripple through, wave goodbye, droplets leave for the sky.
A bee must drown,
a caterpillar will scatter,
only for the butterfly, with wings agape, to show its beauty in death that waits.
Sticks and stones will kill on sight
anything which proposes light.
Black and white stripes guide only us at night,
how funny that stripes are walked upon without a fight.
I was sitting shirtless on the sand
When a nosy horse-fly sat on my hand
I was going to swat him, shoot-fly away
But instead I watched him, till he flew away
As the minutes passed, he came on back
I thought to smack him, but I cut him slack
Again, I watched him...as he watched me
until he flew, out to the sea
I watched him land, atop a wave
Thought to myself, that fly is brave
He would probably make something, a tasty dish
A bird, a crab, a hungry fish
But he flew on back, landed on my hand
As I sat there shirtless, on the sand
So, we shared some time, just he and I
A shirtless man, a brave horse-fly
Your Favorite Rhyme Poem In August 2021 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Written 8/6/2021
Yesterday...
I had
an idea...
today,
it sifts
through a
a mesh...
of...
memory:
the
pebble
slips
down
the hill
of
the dune
unnoticed,
'til
the
boy
kicks
a horse-
fly.
And
the
minute
sun-
bleached
stones
are tossed
into
the air,
in which
they
resemble
a chaotic
dance
of
gnats;
and
the
edges...
of
the
dune
slide
by
their
-hidden figures-
that
curve
into
-each other-
like
the
beach-
grass,
baked
deeply-
tanned
streaks
of
green
that
bend
-and touch-
within
the salty
wind.
And
every
ripple
of
the
sea
is
the
twinkle
-of stars-