Long Scurrying Poems

Long Scurrying Poems. Below are the most popular long Scurrying by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Scurrying poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Rain

Listen to the sound the rain makes,
As it drums out it's own special tune;
Tapping a mystic melody,
On windows and roof tops and dunes.

Lulling the weary traveler,
And soothing the cares of the day;
Calming the troubled spirit,
And chasing my blues away.

Pattering 'gainst my window,
It chases away my frown,
As with warm cup of tea and a blanket,
I hurry to get settled down.

Outside the rain patters merrily,
Inviting me come out and play.
Inside I'm cozy and comfy,
I'll go out some other day.

For now I'll enjoy the music,
On rooftop and window panes.
All comfy and warm I'll sit her and watch,
As raindrops play little games.

Scurrying 'cross my window,
And making small rivers and streams,
As children in bright colored raincoats,
Chase paper boats through my dreams.
© Judy Ball  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Quatrain


Premium Member November Bliss

November brings a blissful happiness,
                           after excitement of fall mellows down,
                     trees bare, as if stretching their branches upward,
                             praying to our Creator in thankfulness,
                       dazzling colours of leaves have faded away, their
                        rustling music no longer tells an enchanting tale,
                  soothing breeze, Northern chilly wind hasn't arrived yet.

                      When the frosty wind starts blowing in November,
               I don’t curse the wind, but soak the beauty of dewdrops at dawn, 
                     glistening magnificently on the gleaming tips of grass, 
                        lovingly admire the chirping of migratory birds, and
                     scurrying of frisky squirrels holding their treasures,
                                     for the last time this year!
                 birds are not cruel, they are not abandoning me for ever,
                                 they promise to return in summer, 
                          embarking  on a plight of thousands of miles,
                                       For a rendezvous in sun!

                    I watch stoically the last batch of flowers wither,
                             pick a few last veggies in the corner,
                        rake yellow leaves scattered on the ground,
                 and smell the heavenly aromatic, pleasant, entrancing air!
            In my garden, the calm and gentle Willow stands in silent prayer.


                                     November 7, 2022
                             "November" Poetry Contest
                                Sponsor: Regina Mcintosh

Premium Member Farty Party

newly deceased ghost lit his own caustic farts
wearing aluminum kitty cat ears with red jeweled hearts
our resident wild man Count Dracula laughed
as wisconsin cheese's weird math wizard graphed

gram’s annual preteen sunday school halloween party
was sailing with forthright butt-clenching gasses so farty
too many lima beans hidden under collard greens
fed to disguised beauty queens

embarrassed guests stood with their backs to the wall
scurrying titmouse squeaked displeasure to all
too much cutting of the cheese
a close by witch yelled out “jeez!”

Who made these canapes?
Yelled three disgruntled apes
bathroom was occupied all night
and the living room never smelled right

next year we will serve deer
and a whole lot less beer
beat cop heard what was said
he came around, Captain Fred

he arrested two who were dragg’n
passed out as he pushed them into paddy wagon
was one of those moments of gas
that we all wished would soon pass.
Form: Rhyme

Morning Turns the Page

Morning Turns the Page

Night lies softly across the beach
as delicate as a black, silken scarf
while, underneath its dark veil,
the sea is blue tissue paper 
with whitened finger tips,
wrapping an early morning present.
Then night, nature’s magician, 
magically removes its black disguise  
allowing early morning light to reveal its gift -
an awakening beach washed by sea and sun. 

A hurrying-scurrying train rushes up,
sprinting between houses,
swerving towards the beach,
as if trying to catch an elusive wave.
Next, with a deeply drawn breath, 
its metal body ducks under a hump of bridge,
rattling out the other side with a whistled scream.
A giant, oak jumps back in surprise
branches fumbling, acorns tumbling
like golden coins being spent
while blades of grass ripple and flex
waving the chattering carriages on their way.

Speedily, the train scribbles its way forward
reaching for the distance where a town awaits,
where streets and cars are a working toy set;
at the seashore, waves calm themselves 
throwing final cups of cappuccino froth 
over coffee, coloured grains of sand.
The sea slows to a mutter, a white whisper
while the beach gradually relaxes and waits 
to be toasted by a warming sun.

Later when the morning gradually
turns the page into the afternoon,
the day loses its chuckle
as the seaside scene is met with
a push of wind and a punch of a storm.
Long departed the train
continues to stretch its journey
searching scenery to entertain its passengers
while hugging the coast like a long, lost friend.

Ian Souter
© Ian Souter  Create an image from this poem.

Winter

Winter comes around only once a year
The so sweet sensation when it’s finally here
Trees that have lost every one of their leaves
Except for the earthy smelling evergreens

Snow that decorates the world in a blanket of white
Falling on to my tongue, the sensation a delight
Little paw prints, rabbits and deer amidst 
Scurrying across blizzard landscapes in bliss

Warm hot chocolate soothing my soul
Cute Christmas ornaments on the tree to behold
Feelings of gratitude flying through the air
Into loving arms, how I love to be bared

When asked to explain what winter is to me
I imagine beautiful lights and snow, in darkness to see
Street lamps that illuminate a world frozen below
On to my head, a knitted beanie I’ll bestow

The frostbitten nights will be longer in length
Frigid white winds become stronger in strength
Watching the world from behind a window
To the outside, we’ll seldom all go

During this time, a new year is given
New goals and futures, to be possibly driven
A time of rebirth, renewal and hope
Fancy and festive, perfumes and soap

And then much later is the the lover’s known day
Intertwined couples together to stay
Heart-shaped chocolates given about
A beloved holiday, of that there is no doubt

And then at the end will come the rainy spring
Washing away all of the blessings winter brings
Oh until next year, I’ll wait for the season again
All of the things that in winter have been
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Memories

Come sit by the fire... let's reminisce

About this and that, about life and love

Watching a robin take its first flight

Or a squirrel scurrying up a tree

The sun coming out from behind the clouds

The gentle breeze blowing the leaves in fall

The gentle snow flakes softly falling in winter

Covering the ground like a warm blanket

Or is it the laughter of a baby

The purring of a kitten

The sound of cows mooing in the field

The twinkling stars on a warm summer's eve

A shooting star

The hum of the city

Which tells us we're one of many

Enjoying life on this amazing planet of ours

The roar of a jet engine

Taking people away on a happy vacation

The sound of a marching band

The smile on the cashiers face

As she wishes you a great day

So many images throughout life

Remind us how amazing it is to be alive

To experience these simple pleasures

To conjure up these amazing vignettes

Of the wonders we see and feel every day

I still remember my very first day at school

That was seventy-three years ago

But it's just like it was yesterday

Attending my very first baseball game

And none other than Jackie Robinson

Playing second base for the Montreal Royals

In his very first professional game

I could go on and on but as I age

My memory is not as reliable as it once was

Memories are wonderful to try to hold on to

To look back on a life filled with happiness and joy

Of course, there were some sad times

But they were far outnumbered

By just the simple pleasures we all experience

My life was amazing!



© Jack Ellison 2014
Form: Narrative

Good Feeling Blues

Woke up early this morning
The sun shinning in without warning
How's depression to set in
Messing like this with my zen

Birds outside chirping have me worrying
Squirrels playfully hurrying in their scurrying
I have no idea of what to do
With all of these good feeling blues

With the grass green even on my side
There is no need for a changing of the tide
I'm about to waste my day away 
With this happy plastered all over my face

How can I be sad or even mad
When I'm loving this and liking that
Humming to the tune that I am screwed
Clinging to these good feeling blues

A slice of pie a piece of cake
A good time vibe to start the day
Just as I have often dread
I woke up on the right side of bed

As it is I'm not into this
Too much happiness and bliss tossed into the mix
What in the world am I supposed to do
Smack dab in all of this good feeling blues

Regarding Planetary Alignment

Planets are in motion and matched
upon a level plane.
Ducks are waddling faster
just to fall in line.

Pundits, prophets, and drunken poets
opine over a mystic wine,
others follow the science around
in ever increasing circles.

Dogs and cats are eloping,
bookmakers are hardly coping
for all bets are both on and off.

Could it be, is it possible?
Will the sky skinny-dip
in a new revelation of light or dark?

I am watching
the elephants and the scurrying mice;
noting if they are heading toward holes
in the fabric of a fresh 'spick and span' reality
or just fleeing one more conspiracy theory.

Meanwhile I draw straight lines
trying to figure out
how disappearing perspectives
can give us all the run-around.

Premium Member Paradise Isle

The kids are gone, I'm retired, I'm taking a long vacation,
To an island with sunny beaches - that's my destination!
I'll spend the days savoring a climate of seventy-two degrees,
Snoozing beneath the palms, fanned by an ocean breeze!

Each morn as I stretch and yawn to meet another gorgeous day,
A glorious sunrise greets me from across the shimmering bay!
I release the worries and frustrations from my languid soul,
As upon the beautiful, sandy strand I take my morning stroll!

'Tis soothing to the ear as the surf floods the pristine beach.
Beyond that there is heard only the terns' occasional screech.
Sandpipers and sidling crabs entertain me scurrying about.
I watch a ship across the aqua sea, plying its leisurely route!

'Tis relaxing to sip a rum swizzle when another day is done,
And just sit back to enjoy the grandeur of the setting sun!
Later, as though emerging from the sea, rises a brilliant moon,
And romantic music serenades me from across the lagoon!

I'll have a lobster dinner, then to bed because it's getting late,
Or maybe a dip in the surf! But hold on! Just a minute!  Wait!
Gliding across the moonlit beach something makes my eyes gleam!
A bikini-clad beauty....! Alas, the missus pokes me shattering my dream!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Country Lane

I peer back thro' the mists of time and view a country lane,
That meanders thro' the woods and across the Hoosier plain.
I see a country lad in overalls and floppy hat of straw,
Ambling along barefoot, marveling at everything he saw!

His faithful pal, Spooks, trots ahead of him a few paces,
Scaring up rabbits and other critters, after them he races!
He drags a stick in the dust and whistles a tuneless strain,
With not a care on earth as he saunters down the lane.

He pauses to skip stones across the shimmering pond,
Startling a flock of geese who at him scoldingly respond!
He stoops to study a hill of busy ants scurrying about;
Old Spooks became curious too and was bitten on his snout!

Boy and dog slake their thirst in the clear, rippling "crick."
He pesters an old snapping turtle with his walking stick!
The lane passes thro' billowing seas of wheat on the plain.
He crushes a few awns twixt his palms for a snack of grain.

Anon, they seek respite from the casual summer stroll,
And they both lie down upon a nearby grassy knoll.
He, gazing at the vagabond clouds, building castles in the air.
Ah! Blissful youth and carefree days! Nothing can compare!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired  (© All Rights Reserved)
Form: Rhyme

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