Long Polecat Poems
Long Polecat Poems. Below are the most popular long Polecat by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Polecat poems by poem length and keyword.
(The beginning is in Part-1)
He trudged on through the woods
Barely glancing around.
Now, what was this cabin?
And what was that sound?
Someone was crying
“Help! Please set me free!
A witch locked me in here.
Can you rescue me?”
Who was this crying,
Locked up by a crone?
A little black polecat
Afraid and alone.
“What shall I do?”
Thought the boy.
“Let me see…
All that I need
Is a magical key.”
Crickety, crackety
Screeched the key.
The door swung open,
The polecat was free!
Maybe it worked now?
The magical key?
But the boy was no taller…
It was not meant to be…
His spirits sank lower
No hope to inspire…
But what was that sound?
And what was that fire?
Someone was screaming,
“Help! Please set me free!
My house is on fire!
Can you rescue me?”
Who was this screaming,
Her voice rising higher?
A little white kitty,
Trapped by the fire.
“What shall I do?”
Thought the boy.
“Let me see…
All that I need is…
But where is the key??
It’s not in my pocket.
It’s just disappeared!
Maybe lost in the forest…”
Or that’s what he feared.
“Crickety, crackety,”
He said as before,
And now, magic or not,
He just kicked in the door.
Smoke swirled all around.
He could not see inside.
“Come to me, little kitty!
I’ll help you—don’t hide!”
The cat was so frightened
She shook like a leaf.
The boy took her outside
And they sighed with relief.
For now they were safe.
But the best thing of all—
The boy suddenly realized
That he had grown tall!
And so he went home,
Where under a tree
Stood Somerset Mill
With the magical Key.
He smiled and he whispered,
(he really was smart):
“The boy had the Key,
The Key in his heart”
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=byWoW4Esevg
Ambiguity within mine
doodling Yankee mind that
arises, asper current
hoopla harrumphing
American Civil War statues,
which verbal/written spat
particularly regarding southern generals
(many atop horses) arouses
call to arms whereat,
excited curiosity possibly twill incite
dangerous extraneous, mutinous,
treasonous tit for tat
promulgation exhuming ghosts
abolitionists of Dead Poets Society
screeching like a wildcat
signaling resumption, sans
war between the states recruiting
every able bodied proletariat
after well nigh one
hundred fifty four plus years,
which repurpose sing reformat
might transform mine
humdrum friggin existence
into one enviable secretariat,
where these ears will
hear constant ratatat,
when bombardiers din
temporarily doth pause
scampering atop rampart
analogous to polecat
espying the freshly minted "enemy"
unconcerned if maneuvers induce pitapat
cuz resumption of battle will drown,
this weasel granted leeway within Union
Schwenksville, Pennsylvanian nonfat
spry old man confident fighter
despite civilian life
extant, viz noncombat
acclimated to rustic/primitive conditions
honest to dog abode comprised
thatched hut housed within mudflat
only during rainfall rigging
makeship shower plus laundromat
counting lucky stars kismat
blessed without necessity
to whip out handy dandy hemostat,
thus yours truly ready for action
quite content nsync
within no man's land habitat
linkedin with nearest battalion via
microchip embedded within
noggin rock solid as hardhat
genetically modified lest
Johnny Rebel lob brickbat
also on lookout against
swampy hungry creatures,
thence I will thrust
these lovely bones akin to acrobat.
Well now the Olympics are all over
There's a story you gotta know
About the first Olympic Games
And how it started long ago
It didn't happen where they said it did
Some place called Greece and Rome
It was started by a bunch my kinfolk
In the mountains that I call home
The games were a little different
When they started way back then
Like catchin' a rabid polecat
And puttin' him in a pen
The mountain games were one of a kind
With some real tough competition
Like holding your breath for as long as you can
While underwater fishin'
The three-legged sack race was also played
Carrying grandma on your back
Wearing your long johns and her false teeth
With snakes tucked in the sack
Another game called tip the the cow
Was played at night of course
You had to do it blindfolded
While riding backwards on a horse
And we also started wrestling
But we did it in the mud
The pigs thought we were crazy
As we rolled around in the crud
And that's the tale of the Olympic Games
And the end of another story
Of how a bunch of Hillbillies
Reached mountain fame and glory
There's Dasher and Dancer
Then Prancer and Vixen
Comet and Cupid
Then Donner and Blitzen
If you think these are reindeer
Then you would be wrong
And it's not crazy words
In some Christmassy song
See, they are my brothers
Don't anybody laugh
For these are hillbilly names
From Polecat Path
It's a place in the hills
In East Tennesee
On the top of a mountain
As high as can be
Here, Christmas is different
There's no reindeer or sleigh
We use an old covered wagon
It works better that way
We make toys in the smoke house
For most of the year
While smoking our hams
'Til Christmas is near
Then we load up the wagon
With granny on the reins
Her wooden teeth all gummy
With rootbeer stains
Now the wagon is pulled
By my brothers and I
We're plumb tuckered out
'Cause people can't fly
Well, you get the picture
About Christmas in the hills
It's a hillbilly adventure
On wagon wheels
Now there's much more to tell
But it's time to run off
'Cause we're loading the wagon
Your friend, Rudolph
Merrie Melodies is coming on, and I am glued to the set
Hoping my favorite will be featured today, for I’ve placed a bet
Channeling my spirit guides, I hope to see Pepe Le Pew.
He is the best cartoon since the sixties, and it’s twenty and two.
This amorous French skunk, known as a polecat down in the south
With streak of affection that places kisses all over target’s sweet mouth
Dashes onto the screen, in pursuit of startled Penelope Pussy Cat.
Runs for her life, but she slows down a bit, due to corpulent fat.
Pepe Le Pew, Warner Brother’s most romantic cartoon ever made.
Sweeps her up and holds her tenderly against him, a daring blade.
She tries to show him that she’s not a skunk, she is actually a cat.
But he is too busy crooning love songs to care about that.
I watch in amazement as he catches her time after time.
Daring to love her, because he is Romeo, gallant and sublime.
She gets away, but is readily replaced with a frisky skunk girl.
They kiss in the moonlight, as his love, he doth slowly unfurl.
My son rises each morning and easily awakes;
He runs into my room and gives me a hardy shake.
There is no sleepiness in the sound of his excited voice;
The things that he says to me make me smile; I have no choice;
“Dad, Count Dooku has light sabers of both red and green!”
Or, “The triceratops is the funniest dinosaur I’ve ever seen!”
Or, “The polecat is the same animal as the skunk.”
Or, “I wish I could take a shower under an elephant trunk.”
There was, “Dad, I think orange is the color that I now like the best.”
And, “Can we go outside today to look for a treasure chest.”
One morning he said, “You know, mealworms can really stink.”
Once it was, “Dad, I saw a tarantula, swimming in our sink.”
Sometimes he tries to whisper, but he hasn’t mastered the technique yet;
I’ve told him not to shake so hard, but often he forgets.
Some people use an alarm clock or a rooster to help them rise;
But me? I have my bubbly son to help open up my eyes.
people who drop rubbish are so very very ignorant aren't they? BIN BAN BOOSH NOODLES AND CREAM.
Oh a lethargic tidal wave. Atomic power of circumference but dormant, hibernating, and still. But placing pineapple ears that stick up in triangular styles is not very fitting really as one should only use round shaped ears of peach due to the sheer fact that the ear lobe would be more appeasing to the wide girth of the trashed out portly container. Containers are neither carriers nor cartons and cartons carbonise so never attempt a wibble wobble jelly dance with eighteen trees and a silvery eyed gooseberry. Giant grabbing garters getting grateful gears. And the sole duty of a perpetual perplexes pink pointing polecat is to pinch proper placed plates pedantically. Semantic swans then. Ha. Xxxxx mythologized z z z z z at thirty four duvet covers writing notes to the mattresses to six fully plumped up pillows wiggling. Z astronomical.
Form:
You came in a beat up old blue Landie
with tales of sleeping giants on your lips.
It was your first night in the cottage
when the Wye was skipping over stones,
dividing the spiked water milfoil
with sacred Pumlumon Fawr sunk into the sunset.
We watched a heron draggle
in and out of the water crowfoot beds,
trusted we’d see muntjac or wild boar tomorrow.
Look, there’s a kingfisher, jewelled above the otter’s holt
and later a dipper, teeter-totter,
near the yellow-cress.
Watching frogs collared by ripples
we wish for a grass snake or polecat.
Skipping past horse-tail and great willowherb
you trace the sand martins with your miniature fingertips
while I collect peppery chives from the bedrock
and turn my once carefree soul to my stomach.
from 'Scratching The Surface' 2019
https://amzn.to/32GSMGl
I've just come to realize
Probably some of you don't know
How to speak the hillbilly language
So, I'll show you how to give it a go
We call them crayfish, crawdads
Cause they're not really a fish at all
A skunk we call a polecat
You better run and hope you don't fall
You say you all, we say ya'll
We just shortened it a bit
You say potato, we say tater
Are you startin to get the hang of it
We call a bag a paper sack
And sometimes it a poke
We say wanna hear a funny
But you say wanna hear a joke
Pretty close to you is pert near to us
And the devil is the booger man
Your bathroom is our outhouse
And a skillet is a frying pan
These are a few of the words we use
Almost everyday
I'll teach you more Hillbilly Language
The next time I pass your way
Shadow-Cat = Cat Afraid oF the Dark needs Teddy-Bear-Cat
Polecat = a pole dancer Cat-House
Copycat = looks like you do Carbon Copy House-Cat
Bobcat = Bob - Tailed - Cat
Wildcat = Wild.,.Child.,.Spirit.,.Cat
Allie-cat = Loose Trampy Cat Did ( I ) Loose
my Train oF Thought it came with a Caboose
and who Goose the Moose
By Antlers in the Tree Tops Chocolate-Moose
Tomcat = sometimes a Big Cat Thumpper other Times a Tom Thumb Cat
and a Cat in the Hat = a BATTY Cat Flying Rat Fat-Cat That's That.,.
P.S. EYE AM DYSLEXIC so I use CAP.s for Punctuation Style called SHOUTING
John Lenin used it when he wrote music now days young Rapper use it when they write music the Newest Form oF Poetry making my poetry unique a NEW ART FORM or a New Form oF ART Poetry