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.
They were all out standing in their field
with an ass or two and a few moose
along with a stray Canadian goose
when someone let the Appaloosas loose
not a welcome sight nor pretty view
while the moose who cud did slowly chew
the well-trained colt did not bolt
or even buck to shuck us
the goose didn't give a honk or hoot
but the asses kicked up such a ruckus
and if mushrooms you have half a mind
to seek (not the magic kind of stalk)
be aware take care of where you walk
as there by the end of the week let me remind
the field was knee-deep if not chock-a-block
with what the livestock left behind
(alternately titled: venerated
uber transcendent state haint give me no lyft)
Ultimate mission (ofttimes possible)
closed eyed insight courtesy meditation
ideally buoys state of consciousness
to naturally induced doze zen realm
disgruntlement arises if yours truly
unaware headstrong winds overtake helm
I invariably drift into light sleep
hours later jostle awake
(analogously experience self named
compressed Rip Van Winkle syndrome)
just smidgen fifty plus shades
gray grizzle coating chin
clumsily amble toward nearest sink
splash cold water across face
apply towel - daub cheeks
various sundry mucus loosened
thick globs phlegm
subsequently, significantly, satisfactorily
expel smallish secretion
out nostrils (pressing
one damned nostril closed
expelling repeating process
other nostril cleared) Semitic nose
clean as a whistle
don glasses to espy time
digitally printed white
within rectangular panel
courtesy electricity illuminating
Verizon set top box
reckon eyes clockface reads
what the ƒ*©* in dog's name...
of Sam Hill, Judas Priest, Matthew Scott...
dadgummit yikes, the time
way past bewitching hour
relaxation cast sleeping spell,
I awoke with a start
'curse saliva drooling and curdling
chin see? ole beastie boy body (mine)
aging baby boomer codger
don't be fooled by
boyish good looks (mine)
nevertheless feral, corporeal
being somewhat refreshed
particularly quaffing
CALIFIA COLD BREW MOCHA
to smooth edges jagged grogginess
thus set self able, eager,
ready, and willing to dash off
aforementioned poem at expense
handily deferred (furloughed)
exercise ma moose hills with
two fifteen pound dumbbells
least till complete literary task
which syrup rise ending snuck up
from outer limits of twilight zone.
Wooden Whispers
Harsh winds have shaped the hollows of my cheeks
artistic rains ingrained life’s ruddy smile
wise owls tutored students from my peak
young lover’s etched their passing – single file.
Time and sun have added creaking to my joints
I bore high water marks yet stood my ground
a moose once spent the night in snowdrift maze
lone visitor in months of Winter’s white.
I rest under clear sky and budding trees
while strangers pose for “selfies” ‘neath my eaves
long for the hum of saw and hard heeled boots
childhood play before they fled their roots.
I serve a distant melancholy need
of simpler times and every dream a steed.
©8/18/2017
submitted to – Covered Bridge – Poetry contest
He Who Loved Night Woman, carrying
ivory revive ring, followed twilight
heart voice calling.
mature antlers appeared
as he entered healing water
woodland creatures lined up.
raccoon, fox, elk, moose,
felt the cool water as if they had
entered it with him,
mystical night, universal stillness
in the woods, sky opened, pinked in
one specific place, leading He Who Loved
Night Woman. An owl gave a tribute.
Flooded gnarled oak pulled her roots
in, so he could more easily get to his
lady love. The only sound was He Who
Loved Night Woman diving into the waters
deep. He had been seeking his lady fair
for many moons.
A sacred hush in the forest,
awe for his courage, and convictions.
His body offered up lovingly onto the
shore the next morning, ivory
revive ring, no doubt on his
love, who had disappeared
in the same waters many
moons earlier.
I was influenced by Basil Fawlty
that sarcastic humour really caught me
inappropriate rude crude and naughty
humour against stress which haunts me
I'm the sort some assume a dim bulb
even the spoons make a sharper knife
impulsive projections cause eyes to roll
a daily custom always part of my life
and yet people fail to see the sea
over there between the land and the sky
for the Wildebeest sweeping majestically
as though impulse is a thoughts finish line
I know nothing about the horse
a witnit flying pig in the water tank
thoughts follow impulse of course
my brain is working you Fawlty blank
That wasn't the fire alarm
yet it causes you to get gobby
you're Major with a firearm
shooting starlings in the lobby
So who wins these bloody mind games anyway
wound up telling me stop talking about the war
which they started when Poland saw an invade
"is this a piece of your brain?" as i pick dust up off the floor
A false sense which makes them hopeful
becomes a trip to see India at the Oval
they don't see the rat in me called Basil
biscuits cheese and a Lord Mulberry puzzle
I'm a good lad
a Waldorf Salad
the chef's gone home
rooms without baggage
if you can't hear me turn it on
blind with glasses on your head
you put my door in a load baring wall
"Hello Major" the Moose once said
i sit there for years doing nothing
when i actually need it for flames you place
and i have to use my brain and think
the bloody think will explode in your face
I know how to address stupid
even if i often appear confused
my small back road is your M1
and with quick wit I've won.
Today is Sunday and I'm going to the ocean
or maybe not. Definitely not doing the laundry
or maybe I will. Moss and even a small tree
grow in the rotten stubs of the pier pilings.
The city is Seattle and it has a macho airport.
Give me the comfort of a moose knowing its
water supply. The mosquito's acceptance of its position
among a million mosquitoes. The pool of stagnant
water that remains one with the mothering ocean.
I drift on the air, less than a seed, a bacteria.
Or I am human, big dick, big brain containing
universal philosophic affidavit. Pleased by
the churning of my tongue, sexual enlightenment,
devout prayer, gourmet dining. I swear
it is best to be alive and to have loved Mary.
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)
If remembering is hopeless, then it’s time to resign
But its easy to say, than to perform rightly
Time shifts down slowly, crosses the final line
And red turns to brown, showing its time to flee
Who on earth now desires to die for a consideration
Now art is for artists sake, they get rid of all Gods
And what was achieved, is artificial machine of elation
That's how it was rationalized by the contrived odds
Draughty philistine hallways with nailed moose antlers
What a tasteless design to be set over the door
In the family genes howls the wind from the north angle
Scattering up the papers around the parquet floor
A southern wind shines on my best mondays
The west wind tangles my words, makes me sit until late
The eastern wind drinks my wine in the bleak sundays
Puts me into condition I’m unable to formulate
It should make a difference, but it doesn’t, if you surrender
Or if you resist, no matter how, deep inside
Or externally, like your own brave contender
Who fights his shadow just for the sake of a fight
Winds can blow away one life for fun
Another's life they'll ignore and pass by
Why dissent and argue, under this cool sun
No contest comes from another day’s pale sky
My wind rose is quiet sometimes, it patiently waits
When the clouds of despair will seize me completely
Then again I am back in that hall, to hear through the shades
Someone's native voice, that sounded so sweetly.
One day it's Doctor Seuss.
Now it is a goose
who took to the back of a bulky brown moose.
It was said the goose had a bald head
of an eagle who is exceptionally regal.
The goose rode the moose until they came upon a pond
this is were the goose envisioned she belonged.
When the goose saw the inhabitance of the pond
by an exquisite white elegant swan
she decided that they'd be moving on.
The goose and moose then kept a looking
for a place that wasn't tooken.
Then along came a gander
who did not pander
that lead the goose's heart astray.
The goose and moose then stumbled upon
a vacant barn, in it a cage,
one where all the chickens once laid.
The goose took to the stoop
and climbed up to roost.
Once she got settled
she made a nest
out of grass found in the meadow.
She laid eggs, making it a dozen
that is all she had in her oven.
For several weeks she heard not a peep
the eggs seemed sound asleep.
One day, it happened!
the eggs began a hatching!
and the nest was full of action!.
She took her twelve goslings
across the meadow
where the sheep had settled.
Then up the street
to a water filled creek.
Where they swam all the day long.
while joyfully honking out this song
we've found were we belong.