Long Muzzles Poems
Long Muzzles Poems. Below are the most popular long Muzzles by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Muzzles poems by poem length and keyword.
You are an illusion
I do not see
Who it is I am supposed to be
Who it is I am linked in destiny
Be it a nightmare or a dream
Who are you spiritually
Are you fuschia flower
Are you just Devine seed
Who are you really inside your beliefs
I am not limited to what I see
But feel limitations of the sea
For I can’t breathe underwater
Yet I do esteem
That water flows like the essence of me
I’ve been accused of being white
Yet my skin is of dark chocolate night
And my soul glows of fluorescent light
Lifting your heart like kente kite
Who I am is a purple puzzle
Universe spam and mouths in muzzles
Like a waterfall I refuse to be still
Defying opinions applying free will
If it is indeed truly free
Why is peace intoxicating
To the meek indigo inheriting
While war lovers despise charity
I rebuke you vanity
The curl of my insanity
The world of blue humanity
That creator hands to me
Your view of me is right but wrong
Much of what u see is a strong
Gene pool play of procreation
And heavily made by manifestation
The water boils softens potato
Same water toils to harden egg you know
Of what is inside hidden by skin bones
Mirrors they lie until we part earthly home
Hedgehog, O hedgehog
dear spiny, meek and mousy poppet.
In England
where the tickly grass grows
greener
we galumph in our rubber boots
up to your little
Hobbit nests
beneath the thorny bushes
were you rests.
We the ever scampy
nippers
fill tin cups with wriggly worms
leave then there
by your dinky
mossy dells.
All the pricky hogs
come from near and nearer,
to snuff and gobble
by the brittle briery
and eat their wormy mush.
Our mucky paws clap
in gay and giggly glee
to see that munchy feast,
their piddly
licky
muzzles
chomping -
quite charming.
Adults say, 'we will catch a flea'
from their pin pointy pelts.
yet we shrug
our never minds, and
our don't cares,
even bring
one tiddly tyke home,
smuggling it up the stairs
to coddle
while we playtime
with some jolly good
fun....
Who are the people we meet in our dreams?
And see countries and places where we have never been,
People who recognise us and converse,
And we answer them,
I find that perverse.
We see our loved ones,
Who are dead,
Is that their way of showing us
That death has nothing to dread.
Strange objects and pictures,
Make us wake up in fright,
Causing fear and anxiety
And sleepless nights
Bright lights and shadows
Are another part of this puzzle
That makes us aggro
Fierce dogs without muzzles.
Mythical people and comical clowns
Tramps and paupers,
Kings and queens wearing crowns.
Dreams involve us. We have no choice,
We may say the words from our lips,
But it isn't our voice.
Why do we dream?
Why is it so?
Will we ever understand dreams,
The answer is, NO!
Midst many senior-citizens of our little township,
Has been Mr. Captain, a solemn man in his mid-nineties,
One, enjoying each-and-everyone's abundant friendship,
Who looked much younger, yet, as though just in his late sixties...
There's a secret hidden in him; like gold within deep mine,
Like sailor having sea-riddles, he had his war puzzles;
Sparkle your interest; you'll see his stories flow in twine;
Adventure advanced like his automaton-gun muzzles...
A thousand lotuses seemed blossoming on his shining face,
When he talked of his valorous victories after wars;
As part of paraphernalia he showed his brief-case,
Wherein rested his telescope that helped him gazing stars...
With his wealth he did not buy or sell; Nor did he marry;
His eyes, like owls, watched vigilantly the nation's progress;
The highlighted portion of his well-maintained diary,
Included strategies of systematic war success...
He inspired many young for the service of the nation,
This has been the greatest success of his great life-story;
Though dignitaries did not glamorize his cremation,
The challenge-filled tear-drops of young soldiers sang his glory...
29 June 2022
Tears of a Valient Soldier Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Faraz Ajmal
Ask the whimsical bard:
Why then make easy hard?
Paradox gripes the bard,
Yes we know that life's hard.
We craft fine riddles here:
Prize puzzle that muzzles;
Paradox dangles clear,
Quirky jigsaw puzzle.
Can sorrow find deep sleep?
Joy watches as we weep;
Grief clusters ever deep,
Zoom into final sleep.
Zest knows fest brews fine jest:
Seek to live your fond fit;
Adjust your vocal quest,
Match paradox with wit.
Know that which you now know:
Mad and bad, sad and glad;
All in due time will show,
Glad and sad, bad and mad.
Feel the windy breeze sneeze:
Why this fickle fancy?
Dance dizzy dreamy squeeze,
Sketch paradox easy.
Leon Enriquez
05 October 2017
Singapore
FAITH, HOPE AND CHARITY
Who cometh these shores
On dusk's dark tide
Tis Hope I know
With Faith she rides
Along Charity's blame
The unfortunate poor
A coin with her name
And a promise of more
On whip bitten flesh
Bridal and bit
Their equine mounts
Silent and swift
Muzzles sheen wet
Steam pistons pour
Muscles bleed sweat
These engines of war
My candles are lit
Prayers offered
Take flight
My back to the door
My door to the night
The doubt
Which I spilled
Now it has dried
Words how I wish
I never did write
Sympathy scorned
Love's ember bright
My ink
So I poured
On God's given rite
A blasphemous sin
Committed at whim
I painted their names
Their nearest of kin
Innocent all
All had their price
A bounty of gold
And silver paid twice
When they sensed that it was time for a walk
Mera showed her happiness with some cheerful barks
Her energy indicated gratitude in anticipation of fulfillment of such a simple task
Although very eager, Reva was standing silent showing her big sisterly protocols
Start of the walk was exciting as usual
Both were prepared with their leashes and collars
Tails were wagging with joy and enthusiasm
Muzzles were ready to snuffle and relish outdoors
Roads were looking vibrant with autumn colors
Fallen leaves had spread carpet of jingles
Overjoyed Mera couldn’t get enough
Kept sniffing shrubberies in every corner
Reva kept herself busy marking her terrain
Drawing satisfaction from leaving traces in the domain
Mera’s creativeness was brought out by wet grassy scent
To justify her elation she had to take quite a few circular steps
The duo walked forward to another neighborhood
Smelling more sidewalks and bushes in passionate moods
A pale green round thing was spotted by Reva’s eyes
Her happiness increased when she got hold of that device
The walk concluded with delightful admiration
Both returned home with minds full of appreciation
At the foot of the mountain lies a wide verdant plain
With rich flowing breasts tend its enchanting brethren
A cuddly care that nature does, in collaboration with men
Catered to those gallant souls, nurturing the best it can
Every morning, when sunshine unfolds its resounding grace
Charming horses in auspicious race, dock their tails, all in graze
Glorious creatures they are when viewed near and afar
Precious stone-like muzzles adorned, each shines like ritzy car
Glossy fur is prominent, from withers, poll to forelock crane
The sophisticated look they have while galloping in any range
When the sun grows brighter in the middle of the day
Cowboys with their hats and chaps shout, hurray!
They run to check their rides before they saddle with glee
Patting stifle, gaskin, hock down to fetlock ‘though they’re jerky
Thorough inspection of hoof, coronet and frog they do and peek
And see if shoes are fixed, they’re good luck charms, shown in kicks
Stallions or mares, palomino, topaz… horses in any color and kind
Riding like a roller-coaster on their withers to their croup is so fine!
How I wish I can go with those cowboys in their pony-trekking
I want to be their horsewoman as they’ll be all my prince charming.
Oct. 17, 2016 1.40pm
Copyright2016Leonora Galinta
All Rights Reserved
Ninth Place
Contest: Horses
Judged: 10/30/2016
Sponsor: Poet Shadow Hamilton
Who are the people we meet in our dreams?
And see countries and places where we have never been,
People who recognise us and converse,
And we answer them,
I find that perverse.
We see our loved ones,
Who are dead
Is that their way of showing us
That death has nothing to dread.
Strange objects and pictures,
Make us wake up in fright,
Causing fear and anxiety
And sleepless nights
Bright lights and shadows
Are another part of this puzzle
That makes us aggro
Fierce dogs without muzzles.
Mythical people and comical clowns
Tramps and paupers,
Kings and queens wearing crowns.
Dreams involve us. We have no choice,
We may say the words from our lips,
But it isn't our voice.
Why do we dream?
Why is it so?
Will we ever understand dreams,
The answer is, No!
Previously submitted 2022
Olive was vibrant and deliberated in awe in front of her wardrobe
Should she put on that glorious fox pelt for the night’s Hunters Ball
Surely it had to be politically correct and she would claim her place
In the hearts of those killers she had to write about for the Morning Post
But she decided for something less tainted and went more en natural
The emerald dress with a shade of sage and chartreuse trimmings
Loosely woven to show off her figure and pleasing for the crowd
After all she was a woman of firm beliefs and tantamount beauty
A lime stola for the stage light and forest green to harbour her bust
Moss and pine reinforced buttocks and myrtle sap silk to cover her crotch
You can’t wear that honey it’s near translucent and far to risqué
Its my nature to reveal what is out in the open and easy to see
A statement so please now hand me that praying mantis whip
Covered in bio-degradable material the reporter put on mascara
Jade eye liner and mint lipstick made from ground clover and laurel
Front page she thought and a tad androgynous for a man’s taste
But Olive was a seductress in name and ready to dance for her cause
They will be bilious with sheer envy when they undress me tonight
Her garments were made from hemp shamrock and cyan feathers
A bit of sea weed and a shiny perlemoen belt for modesty’s sanctum
Octopus ink dotted around the little sea horse brocade ready for the kill
Let’s find out who is the wolf in sheep’s clothing and who rules the party
It is not over until this lady sings to the crude fanfares of animal cruelty
My malachite shine will torture those bigots and hypocritical beasts
And a bit of irresistible irritation has to expose their cunning bushy tails
Before I put muzzles on their hounds and phallic antics and beat my retreat
The headline in the paper read Predators in Read Coats Impaled on Spurs
And a photo showed a foxy young woman presiding over her fallen prey
05th December 2019