Long Moose Poems
Long Moose Poems. Below are the most popular long Moose by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Moose poems by poem length and keyword.
chill howls
slit needles
from firs
and steer whimsy puffs
to shade the moon
like accordion blinds
summer's last
dying gasps
just below the treeline
snippity
snap dragon
spits sparks
in the dark
doesn't threaten me
but don't want to be
run down by a grizzly
or chased by a moose
just want to be
here with Groot
and 400 Conejos*
you know
all those stone circles in Scotland
were fire rings for Giants
who sat there
pondering
their existence
like me, tonight
I was probably there
I just don't remember
but
I don't remember a lot of things
like what did I do to
be a free man who
feels least lonely
when he's all alone
I believe it has to do with
my twin flame
in an epoch romance
that rattled the cosmos
split trillions of atoms
and still
reverberates
look up above at
that upside down jewelry case
luxurious black velvet
betwixt all that twinkle-twinkles
it's all so vivid now
I live forever...
I could reach up
into that black glass
grab a diamond choker
and collar Venus
were I so inclined
(subjunctive case
if I "were"
not if I "was"
speaking proper
sounds so fuddy-duddy
yeah... I know)
fuddy-duddy me
I probably did
ya know...
campfire smoke and
400 Conejos
pair so well
dragon is growing soft
and blurry
his orange pot belly
slowly snoring
hissing
steamy streams
stings my tears
to feel
my life
yearning for life
I just want to be here
my back on this dirt
my head on this rock
with Groot
grizzly
moose
400 Conejos and
heaven staring down
glowing red dragon rolls over
spewing glitter
like exclamation marks
I hear you
but do I listen
Groot...
grizzly...
moose...
400 Conejos...
do you
do you...
listen to me
ok then...
The price of decency in today’s world
Is the same as it has always been:
Your liberty or your life.
If you give a moose a muffin
After all
Next you’ll have to invite them in
For a glass of milk.
And we all know how difficult it is
To get a moose to leave your kitchen.
And so it goes for the illegals
Flooding the open borders
Or the squatters trespassing
Into empty homes
Or the homeless and hapless
Stealing and vandalizing with impunity.
If you’re a decent person today
The lawless will walk all over you.
And those who enable and encourage
Such lawlessness, remain protected
Whilst whistleblowers of all stripes,
From Julian Assange to Seth Rich,
End up in exile or simply dead.
There you have it.
Exile and death.
The future of human decency.
(3/22/24)
There is no religion in meditation
but it's worth visiting with your mind
in the morning. What will you find?
Equally, think about the moose and nation.
Cleaning house no less than apocalypse,
food rations. The mind lights at random.
Sit ten minutes. Breathe in, out.
Counting, or imagining the mind's a horse
galloping leads to other thoughts, not
catastrophe but also not allowed. Visit
with your bones which will outlast
words and desires. In them there's a fire
banked low, where particles of sun are
stored and slowed, or stilled entirely.
That's where I reside. Not really,
not certainly, not virtually. Then
eyes open, flowering or snow falling, the day begins
no wiser, happier or myself.
Muddrocker, the moose, crossed the reindeer’s picket line
He’ll be okay, father reassured mother, he’ll be fine.
Dasher and Vixen wanted to scratch out Muddrocker’s eyes.
Santa was thrilled to see him on Christmas Eve, no big surprise.
Reindeer were pouting and snorting as sleigh drove away.
Santa realized he needed no more reindeer on this sacred day.
Fired them all after Muddrocker took him all around.
Reindeers’ wives left them too, we all soon found.
It’s not fair! Said Rudolph, they needed my nose!
Apparently not, said a new reindeer named Mose.
Santa and Muddrocker had fun that wonderful night.
And children were amazed by their terrific sight.
Memory Moments
Held hands
Made plans
Life goal
Be bold
Life run
No pun
People know
Peep show
Year in
Year out
Century in
Century out
Kiss now
Milk that cow
Day
Night
Monstrous
Fright
Full Moon
Silver Spoon
Freeze
Wait
Now
Reanimate
Free
Verse
-or-
Vers
Libre
Never
Perverse
Not
Zebra
Beer
Glass
Broken
Glass
Idiot
Fool
Nasty
Pool
Polite now
Wonder how
President’s dream
Money scheme
Milky way
Bale hay
Shout out
Never pout
Wonder how
Bless now
Star night
Stage fright
Moose fight
Monster fright
Twilight
All right
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
October 5, 2021 (Short-Line Free Verse)
Coming from nowhere
Going the same
The tracks in front
Pointing to
Tracks behind
The wind on the lake
Reminding
That I am still a guest
The snow on the ice
An invitation
Begging acceptance
New Hampshire Winters
Are white
In my consciousness
And frozen in their
Clarity
Even whiter
Dawns
Out of the stillness
A Moose crashes
Through the snow
Never acknowledging
My presence
His majesty
Confirming everything
That unfound I’ve lost
His spirit cries out
And with quiet respect
I follow him across
The frozen lake
Leaving tracks of memory
One final time
—never to be seen again
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2014)
You look like a silly old moose
With those antlers up high on your head
Your name wouldn't be Mickey, would it?
Oh it's Marvin! I like Mickey instead
Well Marvin Moose, how are the forests?
Are we finally turning it around?
Will earth survive the pollution and garbage?
Is it too late to break new ground?
When man's existence is seriously threatened
He usually comes through in a pinch
Have faith in the strength of the human spirit
Even though it's not a lead pipe cinch
Future generations will be eternally grateful
That we've made this gigantic effort
To save the world from ecological disaster
So they'll inherit a world of new sort
You look like a silly old moose, my friend
But at least you'll still have a home to live in
With ours and the help of dear Mother Nature
The future looks bright for our kin!
Of all the places I set forth to see,
Alaska is the one I love the best.
The pristine ambiance of white, for me,
presents the calmness of a vision blest.
Alaska, with its rugged landscape, sealed
in swirls of snow and sheets of solid ice,
beneath a cloudless sky of blue, does hide
the ancient past below the vast white field.
The air turns crisp and cold, but that's the price
for feeling joy within this countryside.
So thrilling was the train ride that I shared
one day all through Denali Park for miles,
encountering the wildlife soon declared-
as elk and moose, while baby goats drew smiles.
The views seen from the windows and the dome
provided scenes of wilderness not seen
except for finding them aboard this train.
The greater way to travel through and roam
while tour guides point us to the unforeseen
like mama bears with cubs to entertain.
But, best of all, were the magic scenes I saw
while viewing from our ship in Glacier Bay.
With eyes wide open, I stood in pleasant awe
as massive chunks of ice broke clean away.
And, calving, as it's called, caused such a crash,
while creaks and moans of ice sang in my ears.
Large, rolling waves rolled in and rocked the boat
while foaming water formed with every splash.
Alaska- a thumbs-up and heartfelt cheers
grade memories of my time there, afloat.
Man it is bitter cold, and the oar is gone floating down river fast.
My canteen has whiskey, so I take a swig; knowing it has to last.
Where are my matches? I ponder so I grab my Cuban cigar.
How many miles would I float down river before I reached that sandbar?
My moose tattoo gave a mighty laugh and held his teddy bear tighter.
The clouds were overcast now. I was not sure if I had a lighter.
The matches had gotten wet you see, when I leaned out to grab my oar.
I wish I had brought the other one with me when I left that sainted shore.
I took a puff of the cigar, ah heaven, but now I needed a snack.
I opened ma’s picnic basket, and drew out a white doily and a love sack.
She had thrown a flashlight in the bottom which I noticed as ate my food.
Chocolate donuts and ham sandwiches with pickles put me in a good mood.
Do you have your hatchet? My inner voice asked. Let’s chop ourselves an oar.
Carved myself a makeshift paddle out of canoe to take me to shore.
The moose tattoo was laughing, making her teddy bear chuckle too.
I got to land by eleven o’clock, the forest turning a nightly hue.
I barely had enough strength to pull the canoe up into the safety of the sand.
The cattails were impeding our way, my tattoo and I a pretty motley band.
Couldn’t you have just jumped in the water? My inner voice asked on a whim.
Forgetting for a second I guess, that this fisherman does not know how to swim.
As I was washing the dishes last week
I looked outside my windowpane.
Snow-filled land and winter bleak,
I see a moose—how inane!
Thinking I must be going insane,
Or perhaps something of a retard,
I asked many but the answer was the same
Please get the moose out of my yard
One day within that crazy week
My husband was working in the plains
He went to a bush to take a leak
And there, staring, it was again!
He ran through the village through gasps of fright he just couldn’t retain
Now my hubbie is a lunatic, paranoid and scarred
With no fortune to his name!
Please get the moose out of my yard
Living here with seven babes on a meadow leek
Trying to keep sane
All the neighbors think me a freak
As I try to reassure and explain
And STILL the blasted animal remains
Keeping me absorbedly on-guard
He even trampled my great dane into grain!
Please get the moose out of my yard
Dear Prince, soon King so to speak
I beseech you with utmost regard
If it so pleases I will throw you a daughter for queen
Just please—PLEASE get the moose out of my yard!