Long Squawked Poems
Long Squawked Poems. Below are the most popular long Squawked by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Squawked poems by poem length and keyword.
They rejoiced at my birth ~ all was laughter and mirth
While I had no idea of their value or worth
They fed me...they bathed and they clothed me
Day after day ~ Their love knew no dearth
They talked to me, sang to me ~ they oohed and they aahed
Encouraged me no end, made my life all worthwhile
Waited so patiently for me to talk and then walk
Never stopped gitchy-gooing, no matter I squawked
Took me for walks, to museums and to parks
They made me so happy ~ Life was a lark
Provided for each and every one of my needs
Lived to help and to serve me, to do only good deeds
Bought me so many things ~ I'll try to recall
My first MLB bat, my first glove and a brand-new baseball
A fireman's boots and a policeman's, assorted cowboy gear--
Ten-gallon hat, boots with spurs, badge and holster, and a capgun so dear
School was a breeze with their thorough preparation
At five I could read, I could write ~ solve arithmetical equations
Kept ahead of my class till almost age twelve
On the Sabbath they taught me what religious observance was
During high school they attended every contest I played in
Although our school teams seemed 'allergic to wins'
And by the time I was ready to head off to college
They'd ensured I'd acquired the requisite knowledge
These verses tell of my parents love for me
From my very first breath till the age of eighteen--
So it shouldn't surprise you, considering all that they'd done
That their true influence on me ~ had just only begun
May 14, 2018
My favorite wild animal is
as strong as Hulk Hogan
and eats fresh quail.
She is as strong as
Chuck Norris, and Rocky,
and they fly faster than mail.
My favorite animal makes a
hungry cheetah look unnaturally slow.
He conforms into a aerodynamic
teardrop when he hunts below.
My favorite wild animal is
a dark bird of prey,
who makes quick strikes.
When mice and rats
and small birds watch them
carry off their friends,
they yell "Yikes!"
Clocked at 242 mph
they are the fastest
wild animals on earth.
The mama
peregrine falcon
reproduces in litters
of three or four eggs,
30 days until birth.
They are located everywhere
except the rain forest,
New Zealand and the poles.
Hungry foxes would
love to catch these white-faced,
yellow-eyed creatures, but they're too slow.
Peregrine's enemies
are the bald eagles,
great horned owl, and the hawks.
They were eating
carrier pigeons in France,
and lots of Frenchmen squawked.
Their natural color is
black and gray;
they strike so quickly, and on time.
They've been off the
endangered list since
August 25th, 1999.
If you ever see a teardrop
shape dropping toward you
swiftly from the sky,
Check your pockets
for fresh quail.
If it's not there,
you're going to die.
written May 12, 2018
Note this poem was written some time ago but I was sick and deleted my site. I have been patiently reposting my poems since 9 October 2000.
On November 13, 2002. The Prestige, one of twelve tanks burst during a storm off Galicia, in northwestern Spain. No help was forthcoming and by November 19, the ship split in half. 20 million gallons were spilled into the sea.
Beneath the heavy dark clouds,
the storm broke.
An oil-filled tanker sank
spewing black lakes of murderous slime.
What a giant "Prestige"!
Despite the roar of untamed waves
there was a deadly hush over the ocean.
A low death knell sang a purgatory of pain,
as contaminated birds of gulls, orioles, kestrels
squawked their last dirge:
What a giant "Prestige"!
Too late men stretched their ingenuity,
a desire to save and spare
the livelihood of so many families
that sailed the oil-spilled seas,
where baby dead fish dotted the surface,
sands and rocks tainted with death.
Elsewhere engineers burned their chemical gases
and smoke escaped from the earth's fragile shell.
We all have our "Prestige"!
Written 2016
I shared my life with you...
So much my friend
I thought my times with you...
would never end
On your winding trail...
I walked
Where rabbits ran...
and squirrels squawked
I've seen the shadows...
from the sun
Mini-bikers...
on the run
You kept us smiling...
you old road
Where Lois Lane...
and Jimmy rode
With no white lines...
to smudge your style
Memories saved...
on every mile
An Indian path...
you used to be
Broken arrows...
in the tree
Your fluffy dirt...
now neat and paved
Like Prince Charles...
All clean and shaved
The government...
had bought and sold
So say, so long...
you old dirt road
Bonnie Brown was in love with Charles, like black pearl clings to night,
So young and engaged to be married, like myriad stars, shining white.
They were active professionals, dwelling in a charming, bustling town;
As warbling charms orange noon, after pink mist clears, with no sound.
They had dreams of future and a family, like purple nights of fantasy;
And they were already making plans, like butterflies flitting frantically.
Fellowship of friends made fabulous Fridays, when they met after hours,
Dancing fun and funky karaoke, like dragonflies, among yellow flowers.
The family had always preferred flying, and finally arrived with jet lag,
In their flurry of activity; like snowflakes, or thunder's flashing, red flag.
Bonnie lived in the house of teatime, preferred in contented moments;
When speckled, green birds flew by the window, of afternoon suspense.
Scarlet rose was seared in heart's memory, on a street of grass sighing;
For Bonnie loved growing pretty blooms. She found their colors exciting!
News of the nation was on neighbors' lips, in the modern times of now;
But, novel nature took no notice, and it wouldn't have mattered, anyhow.
'Candy cane sorrel' blossoms thrilled children, in sweet days of summer;
As 'firecracker' blooms lauded 4th of July, 'mid droning, cricket latecomers.
'Red slipper' flowers lounged in velvet, while the 'parrot lilies' squawked;
And gardeners got rich as 'ruby cloud' descended, 'ere moonlight walked.
Bonnie planned to take a trip overseas, for two weeks of rest and gaiety;
But it'd be hard parting with Charles, like fall, bereft of flowering society.
Bonnie had so much fun, witnessing beautiful sights, like she never knew!
For all folks need a little adventure, like rainbows of skies, suddenly blue.
Charles was busy with a major work project, but missed Bonnie terribly;
Like colorful seasons that keep repeating, their vibrant days, customarily.
'My Bonnie lies over the ocean,
My Bonnie lies over the sea,
My Bonnie lies over the ocean,
Oh bring back my Bonnie to me,
Bring back, bring back,
Oh bring back my Bonnie to me, to me,
Bring back, bring back,
Oh bring back my Bonnie to me!'
Off with their heads
They wanted me dead
Or buried alive
And for this they did strive,
The conniving baboons
A bunch of buffoons.
But vengeance is sweet
And to this I did tweet,
I’m out for their blood
I’ll drag them through mud,
They’ll wish they weren’t born
With my insults and scorn.
How dare they act so
They’re vileness so low,
To spy and besmirch
After all my great work,
I’ll give each no quarter
Aside bread and water.
The country now knows
These heartless vile crows,
Who squawked all along
Their monotone song,
But now watch them squeal
While lashed to my wheel.
As to their fool friends
They’ll need make amends
And do so real fast
Since my patience won’t last,
I know who they are
They won’t stray that far.
A lesson well taught
Perpetrators now caught,
You mess with the Don
And soon you’ll be gone,
It’s always the same
I’m so great at this game.
** SCENES FROM HOME **
The curtain wafts on an open-window’s breezing air, like liquid
Blue in the room, bringing beauty with magic’s tracing
The woman with her still raining, trickling water-streams
Over her calf as she lifts her leg out of the bath
Above the call, “Daughter!” to the girl running outside, her
Tresses and turquoise skirt flying up in a lunging wind
As a red squirrel leaps onto a chipping-painted windowsill
To dig all through a neglected flowerbox, while he’s squawked at
By a blackbird, bowing over her nest, keeping watch
Nearby where there emanates the enchanting sound of piano
Nocturnes that the son (in rolled-up shirtsleeves) nicely plays
While a ping-pong ball rolling, clacks across the cellar floor,
Beguilling the cat into a frenzied attempt to seize her prey
At the hallway’s end, Grandma asks a mirror about her appearance.
“Is there a flower fairy to bring a blooming loveliness to my age?”
Mirror, ready to answer, “Just look! Radiance grows inside every day.”
But, the answer on-coming, found Grandma, chin-on-hand, fast asleep.
————————————————————————————————————-
(c) sally young eslinger 7/14-15/2023
Thanks be to God—-
"Birthed some 65 years ago
Born when retardation was a common fear-feared
captured gathered up like lost sheep or cattle
some medicated some placed in confinement
kept in the dark, people squawked at a lot",
~
"I was made the oldest, alto yet I was the youngest
I was his co-caretaker
Spent a lot of my grade school days..
The first 6 years staying home with him
While my mother and father worked
For you see my brother was born
Blind and retarded
And one month premature and incubator baby"
~
"My brother, yes I have a blind-man for a brother;
Where as with just one play of a song on the radio;
Retained it instantly, memorize simply, could sing it alone/along;
Musically could have easily have been another Stevie Wonder,"
"And with mom and dad both now been dead;
For longer than 30 to 40 years;
On this day I celebrate the birth of my brother
Joseph;
Blessed happy 65th birthday;"
~Joseph Allen Lee~
A field trip to the new History Museum sounded like fun.
We boarded the bus as soon as the school day had begun.
I was excited, thinking seeing dinosaurs would be as cool
as Jurassic Park movies where the scary T Rex held rule.
I wandered off after eating lunch, looking for a bathroom
but the head I found was crowned with an orange plume.
I screamed! It squawked, and beady eyes stared at me.
Unable to move, I closed my eyes tight, so I wouldn't see.
I felt its warm breath on my neck and heard its wings flap.
My first instinct was to run, but I really needed to crap.
Sharp claws scratched the skin on my arms and my back,
then it screeched with a fiery roar that burned my backpack.
I fell to the ground, hoping it would think that I was dead
but I squinted enough to see the orange plume on its head.
It circled me twice, then flew away. To where, I didn't care
because I was alive, although it had scorched all of my hair.
No one believed my story, not even Mr. Tom, my teacher.
He said dinosaurs are extinct and I didn't see such a creature,
then rolled his eyes at me and I think he nearly went beserk
when I said, "and then a flaming pterodactyl ate my homework!"
January 29,2021
...and then a flaming pterodactyl ate my homework contest
Sponsored by: John Lawless
The pigeons and seagulls were having a fight.
(Reporters might call it the “Gray versus White.”)
Lined up on the railing, awaiting some food,
There seemed to be tension, an ominous mood.
Since in that location, for year after year,
The pigeons have roosted; they’ve made their career
Of circling over the benches to wait
For the lady who feeds them, a sunrise-time date.
But lately, the seagulls have gotten the word
Of this ritual, squawked and relayed bird to bird,
So the railing’s been crowded as it’s ever been
With the early morn quiet disturbed by the din.
The fight wasn’t physical; no feathers flew,
Though the circular flying meant double the poo.
As I passed on my walk, I just hoped that my luck
Would hold out or you might hear me yelling out – duck!