Long Snouts Poems
Long Snouts Poems. Below are the most popular long Snouts by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Snouts poems by poem length and keyword.
We sleep on each other,
lick on each other,
run around and nip on each other,
we are wholly 'each other,'
personalities
hid
in the ruff and fur around our necks
and the snaggle of our teeth.
We wag in unison
heart-timers synchronized.
When out in the big smell
we seek every scent
that sprout's
from the muddy baths and the great
wafting sky-waves that call to our blood
to come join,
come lope and snuffle.
The trails of other's drives us crazy,
we roll in bundles of ecstasy,
squat, squirt and snap at the thick odiferous airs
then inhale the news from every rump
we greet.
Under our skittering paws
leaf and grass, spatter and scatter
as we charge into each other.
What are these leaves of grass?
Each one could be a page
in poem of sniff and scratch.
The wind threads through our snouts
and we shake our heads
until our brains rattle in wonder.
Old Walt Whitman forgets to mention us,
but deep within his far pacing musings
we are there like an itch.
When he pauses his pen to nap and dream
our breathy huff huffiness
tickles his toes.
An Albatross and a Seagull
nested in a Nut tree. Both
Male birds often went to
the seashore to catch fish.
One day the Seagull went out
and bought back an anchovies
and a large clam snout. He didn't
care for snouts as much, but he
Loved anchovies. He said if Man
we're wise to this, they would grindup
Snouts and anchovies and feed
People all over world. The Seagull
told the Albatross and they told
Rabbit at the hatchery where they'd
often go to get feed and mingle with
the hens and roosters. The rabbit told
the Altratross so you want us to tell
Humans to grind snouts and anchovies
for the betterment of humankind? Yeah
said both the Albatross and Seagull, yeah
we do. ( To be continued)!
Pure magic, the August night the day Moon Fairy sat on Fossil Moon.
Aquamarine eyes slowly closed as she began playing dolphins swoon.
Diamond stars began to prance around her in a lovely endearing way.
Her song was uplifting and enlightening, bringing about a sense of play.
The dark waters of the world below began to open up and gently sing.
Music honored April eve, and bringing a sense of beginning spring.
Other cosmos stopped to listen, for the song was endearing and pretty.
The dolphins nodded their snouts and laughed, for they were truly witty.
Moon sofa she was sitting on was lulled into a wonderfully lull sleep.
Secrets that came flowing from her flute were glowing and quite deep.
Moon Fairy’s translucent wings rested gently on her moon sofa sweet.
The night was magical and pure, a combination that could not be beat.
Evening cosmos smiled as they listened to the magical flute play.
Mysteriously, tens of galaxies heard it from many light years away.
Moon Fairy, in her own world, playing her flute the best she could.
No idea how powerful her music was on a world, doing so much good.
One sunny day, two big animals are walking in the field. The first animal said, "Do you see what I see?"
"What?... Where?!" replied the second animal.
"There are three small animals stuck in the soft soil. Let's help them!"
The second animal said, "They are humans. They are the same ones whipping us in the previous days. Why do you want to help them?"
The first animal whispered, "This is the only way I find so they can treat us better."
The two big animals approached the three kids, extending their snouts, but the children can't reach them. The two big animals stepped on the soft soil and used their bodies to help the children extricate from the mud. The children were saved and left the field.
On the same day, rains poured on the field. The two big animals weighing 10,000 pounds each were left in the mud, struggling for three days.
On the fourth day, the children went back to the field and were shocked seeing the two elephants still in the mud. They called their parents for help and their parents called Kariba.
You kindle the lamps
Little earthen bowls
Holding circles of mustard oil
Wicks like snouts of desire
The sober flame radiating rosy heat
Smell of ripened wheat
I get my book
Under the leaves of the light
Words snuggling in delight
The dissolving nights recede
Your pent-up poems, all freed
You become the words
Swords disappear
Mightier pen gets prepared
The lamps in the corners
In triangles and tweets
Light on the lips of darkness
Salvador Dali
It is poetry of Diwali
Smileys hovering in the air
Scented light from your hair
You kindle the lamps
Taking light
From my candle-hand
Blushing eyes command
Compelling lamps
NEXT EXIT BABYLON
They raised their cups
Splashed their wine
It ran with blood
through vein and vine
Where Satyrs' hoofs
Pawed with fight
Tunics fell
Laurels twine
Lips were bit
Breasts were held
Brands, hot, brought
The coals of Hell
Seared the flesh
With Saturn's breath
Number-Lot
To buy and sell
On tables, neat
Both man and Beast
Blessed their bread
Cursed their meat
Great hills of brick
They pulled the dead
Like babes, reborn
Out crawled the sick
The dogs wore crowns
Of broken bone
Like sacred cows
Left free to roam
They raised their snouts
Bared their teeth
Barked and growled
And joined the feast
Possibilities, like children, navigate the classable realms,
settling upon the measurable.
Amorous piglets, their peachy snouts delve,
rooting through the trash heap of desire.
"In a time beyond now," wheatenly speaks the tale-spinner,
plucking a clover, pale and crowned with stardust,
among the untamed grains sown in the depth of breath.
She informs a story of the jewel hung in ghastly night,
makes dark fright beauteous and her old face new.
I crave an eye bathed in Bengal's blaze,
eternity riding a celestial pyre,
Cetus dancing on an ocean canvas,
whose seas flow no fresher than the confessions' wicked drippings.
These realms are places of wonder,
where pigments of reality and fantasy blend,
and I am compelled to dwell within my cresset,
explorer of the shining glimmers.
Sipping the subtle freshness,
a learner from the lessons of Experience,
I gaze through colored glass,
where each tint reveals and re-veils truth like a story.
I wait to touch of hem of a thunderbird,
whose wings span the horizon,
whose voice shakes the earth and sky,
whose feathers spark the fire of inspiration.
And I believe I will, someday, when I soar beyond the dawn.
More than a soft toy,
she kept these Puffies
for years; she kept
them free and safe.
I left, right..left..right,
out of her everyday -
her sis marched right
out of her life, but
her Puffies so proud
on a shelf; its shelf life,
who knows, but they’ve spent
nearly half a century with her.
Wallace Berry Cream Puffs
stayed in the palm
of her sister’s hand,
never looking forward
or back, never going far.
This soft toy enjoyed
the chatter, laughter, love
of her new owner.
Reminders of a faraway home,
a forever after,
the sweet kiss of a 5 year old.
She held her Puffies tight; tighter
the memories of so long ago.
It all matters - not the toy,
yes the toy, yes the girl.
The small basset hounds,
coffee brown floppy ears,
cream bodies (like wool),
and ample pink snouts.
The sailor in me knew
these two would
be well-cared for. This child
held her responsibility
in high-regard.
There’d be other collectibles,
but sis never neglects
the treasures of the past.
Everywhere, clusters of clowns gathering about.
Plotting behind painted smiles.
Dancing to the quickening of our demise.
They gather upon star-spangled hill.
Behind giant mahogany desks.
Sharpening knives on middle-class breasts.
The reddish howl of the globalist, echoing the fall.
Muffling the voices of we the feeble.
Hope bleeding out into the A-hole of the Potomac.
Along the banks, clusters of pigs and clowns.
Green dripping from Saturn-sized snouts.
Stomping their hooves- disrupting citizen heartbeats.
Everywhere you look, clusters of manic menace.
Void of substance.
Void of anything...really.
You kindle the lamps
Little earthen bowls
Holding circles of mustard oil
Wicks like snouts of desire
The sober flame radiating rosy heat
Smell of ripened wheat
I get my book
Under the leaves of the light
Words snuggling in delight
The dissolving nights recede
Your pent-up poems, all freed
You become the words
Swords disappear
Mightier pen gets prepared
The lamps in the corners
In triangles and tweets
Light on the lips of darkness
Salvador Dali
It is poetry of Diwali
Smileys hovering in the air
Scented light from your hair
You kindle the lamps
Taking light
From my candle-hand
Blushing eyes command
Compelling lamps