Long Snowy owl Poems
Long Snowy owl Poems. Below are the most popular long Snowy owl by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Snowy owl poems by poem length and keyword.
Moonlight oft softens the summer night,
but comforts are few, in the deep of night
when winter arrives with its vicious bite,
and we shiver to see our world turned white.
Winter is cold, starkly black and white:
be it at the noon of day or deepest night.
Sounds ricochet, echoing far and wide,
inducing the timid to shelter and hide.
Glittering crystals - nature’s icy festoons,
serenade winter with wind driven tunes.
Snow squalls in plenty, allow no respite,
seasonal conditions of a January night!
Tinkling sounds, wild mid-winter chimes:
musical serenade of the northern climes.
Clouds scurrying by, set free their loads
traffic snarls badly, on snow bound roads.
Winds echo eerily through forest trees,
like tortured cries of entrapped banshees.
Red Fox scents a prey, prepares to swoop,
but alerted cotton tail chooses to scoot.
Deer seek comfort in the forest of the pine,
unlike domestic cattle that warmly recline
sheltered in a barn, with food close at hand,
ignoring coyote marauders - a passing band.
A Snowy Owl - silent night prospector,
scours open pastures, sector after sector,
listens for mice tunnelling under the snow
sharp is its hearing, for all sounds below.
Temperatures edge higher: a new arctic low
invading our region, presages more snow.
Deep skies sparkle with a myriad of stars:
plainly seen are planets: Jupiter and Mars.
Awestruck we marvel for hours to gaze
at comets streaking by, in suicidal blaze.
Northern Lights dance across rural skies,
but over the city, their pulsing radiance dies.
Such is the beauty seen on a winter night,
when nature enhances the smallest light
from a galactic display or little known star,
whilst faint sounds seldom heard, travel far.
Standing outside, well wrapped and warm,
studying the heavens and their unique form,
we may marvel on the allure of a winter night,
and enjoy moments, that award great delight.
Rhymer. January 2nd, 2018.
I'm a strong flying solitary hunter; living up to
fifteen years in the wild and almost twice that
in captivity. I'm one of the world's largest owls.
I rule the night, hunting in the bitterly cold, desolate
Arctic region. That's my domain. I can also
be seen haunting in broad daylight!
My intense, large golden eyes is a camera;
I see as clear as an Eagle. I mostly swoop down
on lemmings, but I also don't spare rabbits, hares,
and small birds. I have a harsh intimidating bark
when put on the defensive. I migrate south
when prey is in short supply.
Since there are no trees found on the tundra,
I build my nests in a hollow in the ground.
And I will protect my nest aggressively against
Arctic foxes, wolves; even Polar bears. I'm a force
to be reckoned with! My thick feathers keep me
warm and insulated in the freezing cold.
As a male, my plumage is nearly all white with
a few black markings in my feathers. As a female,
I have much more, and I'm larger in appearance.
I command a large territory to breed. My loud hoots
can be heard more than five miles away. I fiercely defend
my territory against Invaders, my own kind included!
As a female, I'm just as formidable as a male,
and I'm equipped with longer talons. I'm quite
an intelligent bird of prey. Sometimes I feign injury
by crawling on the ground, dragging along my wings
to lure a predator away from laid eggs or my young.
Let there be no doubt, I'm an owl among owls!
Date written: 01/31/2012
"The Authoress – The Author"
She parked Silver Lady
by The Road's side,
placed the keys in Her pocket
Her hands were warm
Her eyes were cold
She smiled a tight smile
You know, full of passion, full of ire -
Her heart was an inferno,
inside her was a Wicker Man
Her heart was burning up, on fire
Ferociously She slammed the car door
and walked into the Woods
She didn’t look back
The Autumn breeze had risen
Winter was stalking Her
A Black Crow and Peregrine followed
She was on a mission
Somewhere in the distance
the sound of a laughing
fat-bellied storm approaching
it’s thunder clapping
A Snowy Owl, far from home,
watching on with wisdom
silent at ground level, decided to
spread wide it’s speckled wings
to sit in the higher branches safe from
danger and wilder things
Perched safely looking for some Sun
Snowy Owl understood
this was not a walk to
Freedom
Some say the Woods are haunted
Dimensions of past lives
Open Portals,
where misplaced in time,
Lost Lovers meet,
Never again to be seen
In this World,
what is to be seen is
The Unseen
Somewhere, in time,
where story left poetic rhyme
The Author walked into the Woods
The Author didn’t look back
Somewhere, misplaced
Lost in time
where story left poetic rhyme
Two stories meet
Unseen
(Ladylabyrinth/2019)
gvlm
“Lover, hunter, friend and enemy
You will always be every one of these
Nothing's fair in love and war
In life, in love, this time I can't afford to lose
For one, for all, I'll do what I have to do
You can't understand, it's all part of the plan
Broken pieces of the night
Sing like hollow lullabies
You and I, always in disguises “
"Gold in your eyes dancing like fire
Dreamer trapped by your desire"
I live on the frozen tundra where cold winds blow
I'm never bothered by the amount of ice and snow
The thickness of my feathers are deep at my chest
like a downy insulated coat that's better than a vest.
I'm busy keeping watch over my two mated hens
who sit on the nests we've built on mounded dens.
I've eleven mouths to feed, all screaming for food
at night I'm quite busy searching the neighborhood.
My golden eyes are keen so I can see best in the dark
When I dive for a morsel I never miss my targeted mark.
I hear something scampering beneath the blanket of snow.
It's a scurrying little mouse. Be right back, I have to go.
Another snack for my babies, newly out of their shells.
They think they have to eat when their stomach compels.
Now that it's quiet, I'll perch on a branch up in this tree
and keep a watch out for predators who want to eat me.
Hunting is much easier because my fur coat is purest white.
I blend in just perfectly with the snow by day and at night.
I can turn my head in any direction by swiveling it around
Until my prey approaches, I'm good at not making a sound.
A fox is creeping in from the North, hoping for some action
but my sharp talons will chase him away, to my satisfaction.
Excuse me for a moment, but I see an approaching artic hare,
a hardy meal for the chicks, my mates will chew to prepare.
There are humans living near by, in a log cabin over the hill
they leave meat out for me when they make a fresh kill.
I've no reason to fear them because they never hunt for owl.
I love living in this frigid climate where I'm free to fly and prowl.
__________________________________________________
January 31st, 2016 Owl Personification Contest by Eve Roper
Sacred Gratitude
Rockin and Rollin inside my soul
Beckoning musical notes float within me
My heart surrenders and opens
Expanding
When the world outside dances in tension
Feeling bleak and unforgiving
I am grateful to receive
Simple nuances of pure magic
Breathing into my being
Allowing a journey to the place
Between here and now
Standing in dense forest
I approach one of the gentle giants
Her redwood bark burned and blackened
Fires and history tattooing her skin
Fury red growth emerging
Her new coat of velvet delight
Limey baby branches
Make their way to the air
Thirsty for light
A deep hollow near her base
Where I can walk inside
Blackness..soft spongy bark
Touches my fingertips
A dreamy pause
Almost silent
An internal space
Quiet gratitude as I look up.. up..up
Hundreds of feet to a circle of light
Glimmering above
Sunlight trickles in
Kissing my eyelids
Diamond dust reveals
Her burnt underbelly
I stretch my arms up high above me
Sliding them into the sleeves
Of her gigantic branches
As I become her
Arms...limbs full...stretch.. radiating
Rising up ...my head tall
Viewing nature’s mesmerizing tapestry
Woven yellows and greens
Meadows, springs, water lapping nearby
Echoes of bird calls
A white snowy owl lands on my limb
Quiet gratitude as I see her blink
Her wise old eyes
Rotating her white feathered head
Counterclockwise so she may see
The entire circumference
Of her surroundings
Oh dear owl
Sister of the universe
I hear your silent whispers
Feed my soul with your insight and wisdom
I am grateful for your guidance
As I journey through subtleties
Of acceptance, challenge, and bliss
Arriving at compassion
For life and for others
Maradona, ice palace princess was more formidable than we knew
Her reputation was startlingly modest, said the soothsayer, Lou.
She led the dragon brigade in January, stated snowy owl, a friend.
Her army annihilated the enemy, I mean to a devastating end.
Heaven’s pink angel bird messenger warned us of her arrival.
We wondered if we would be able to thrive, or just hope for survival.
Crystal cavern frost monger told us of her daring and dangerous feats.
Some of the stories were so outrageous, I listened to all the repeats.
She is on her way to winter palace, it has a few powdered blue roofs.
It might still have some dents on it from Santa’s reindeer’s hard hoofs.
Maradona rode on a white burly elk by way of Lebrabreeze valley.
She is the kind of ice princess you do not want to find in a dark alley.
The dragons were snarling, growling, and looking for places to hide.
Maradona is dangerous, she kills folk everywhere including outside.
Don’t be fooled by her fabulous rhinestone-like ice crystals and smile.
She has slaughtered many in this country, she has cunning and guile.
Cats and dogs were hiding in snowbanks, covering up with blue snow.
Guardians of Nostradamus society had barely any place to go.
We were frenzied when white elk marched Maradona up the frosty hill.
Glistening snow was silent, ice crystals adding to this January chill.
Diabolical Maradona can give you dreams, from her translucent wings.
Her pearlized crown is amazing, the envy of presidents and kings.
Her wisdom and whimsy whirls in so fast, you are thrown off your feed.
What else in this world would her sentinels, the white wolf dogs need?
Striding into the snowy fortress my tepid heart at double time
paces
Entering a pine colonnade sprouting a wintry mane, saddled with
velvety laces
Cloaked with icy needles forming a brittle, hooded trellis
Golden beams seap through the shielded parapet gilding the frosty
mantle with an iridescence
The distant peaks shrouded with the glow of satin evanescence
Following an unmarked, winding trail spurred on by an eery
prescience
My unbridled senses discharged; my tempered spirit for the
mysterious journey braces
A haunting stillness shadows my movements; stealthily my
boundary encases
Shuttered from the outside world and its vapid spaces
Where time is muted and nature's discordant rhythm races
A pristine environment where tendrils caress, limbs bristle, the cold
wind chases
A cloudy fondue swirls overhead and each spiralling steeple
embraces
Squawking squirrels prance freely on the floor without leaving any
traces
Bald eagles glide above the crenelated spires crowning the summit
with their magestic graces
A maverick-cardinal's chirps funnel through the shrouded mist,
temporarily the dreary damper effaces
A Snowy owl crests over the hollowed thickets scanning the tight
nooks and crawl spaces
White-tailed deer cautiously trek through covered thickets, matted
fields which their camouflage erases
Filtering through the blustery labyrinth, an open field the rough
terrain displaces
The broad meadow teaming with yesterday's cares my
adventurous journey replaces
Looking longingly back on my charted path, my bridled heart the
solitary life praises
This was my entry for Milt's last contest, sadly he passed away before he could judge it.
My lines of romantic Sonnets open a window to my heart.
I write about lost loves and tragedies that trouble me.
Though not a painting on canvas, a poem is a work of art.
Each verse opens the cage door to set my emotions free.
I write about lost loves and tragedies that trouble me.
When melancholia sets in, scripting poems is a Godsend.
Each verse opens the cage door to set my emotions free,
I can be a soft breeze, teasing willow branches to bend.
When melancholia sets in, scripting poems is a Godsend.
Poetry draws my attention to more pleasurable things.
I can be a soft breeze, teasing willow branches to bend
or imagining I'm a snowy owl, soaring on outspread wings.
Poetry draws my attention to more pleasurable things.
There's splendor in a sunrise as it blushes in morning skies,
or imagining I'm a snowy owl, soaring on outspread wings.
I compose lyrical poetry with a chorus in rhyming reprise.
There's splendor in a sunrise as it blushes in morning skies.
Though not a painting on canvas, a poem is a work of art.
I compose lyrical poetry with a chorus in rhyming reprise.
My lines of romantic Sonnets open a window to my heart.
11/03/2022 Pantoum on Writing Poetry Contest
Written for L Milton Hankins, Sponsor
Crisp day snow crunching as I walk
Rosy cheeks, from the air that bites
Flakes of snow, flying like kites
I am busy here, no time to talk.
Little red squirrel nestling in the pines
Silence around except for the crunching snow
Burdened branches that are straining, lay low
Winters snowfall can be solemn at times.
Things look different with a blanket on top
Although the sights have been seen before
Everything looks magnified, right done to the core
Mounds of snow on roofs, icicles starting to drop.
Found some tracks amongst the trees
Mother deer and her small doe,
They weren’t bothered, snow on their nose
Standing in snow drifts up to their knees.
Two cardinals perching, happy to be together
Snowy owl hoots from a broken down fence
Starring at me, trying to make some sense
Why I’m out here in this kind of weather.
I brought some food for my winter friends
It serves me well to know they are contented
Happy with what has been presented
They get the message that it sends.
Chowing down some seeds, that I laid out
Little do they know they’ll be fed tomorrow,
Seeing them cold and hungry, brings sorrow
They’ll are well cared for no doubt.
Little bird houses all trimmed and hung
Each with their own window and door,
And some straw blankets the floor
Time to give back for the songs they sung.
Moon had reached its zenith peak
the world lay hushed for the night
some heralding flew near the pond
wind stilled as she came into sight
Ripples stirred as she entered the water
pond came to life, ere it had been dead
time had come for the return of the cob
A White Snowy Owl swiveled his head
Taken in death from her years earlier
the pen refused to mate with another
He returned only one night each year
her muted swan mate, he was her lover
As mysterious as his ghost-like return
more of a marvel that since his death
the pen had left their pond as a woman
Night creatures at the pond held breath
Submersing, the change was taking place
she was a beautiful mute swan once more
as he approached her arms became wings
off her shoulders, the white dress she wore
Hidden by a growth of wild flowers on the bank
they coupled and preened all through the night
privileged was I to witness such a love so loyal
I wished the cob would never again take flight
Graceful necks entwined, they gave way to sleep
sky grown light, in time of dawn they drew apart
no goodbyes, he took to the sky; her wings to arms
she donned her dress and cried~with broken heart
January 1st, 2016
Female swan is a pen ~ male is a cob