Long Squirrel Poems
Long Squirrel Poems. Below are the most popular long Squirrel by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Squirrel poems by poem length and keyword.
AHA HAIKU 13
Songbird psalm
Balcony duet;
Cheery cold morning
~~~~~~~~~
Squirrel escapades
Up and down and up;
Curious zigzag
~~~~~~~~~
Quick footsteps surge
By parkway bench;
Eyes far away
~~~~~~~~~
Old man sits
Stares at people;
Solitary wonder
~~~~~~~~~
Chocolate ganache cake
Half for my neighbour;
Gratitude smiles
~~~~~~~~~
Silent distress stings
Lift breakdown;
Sultry faces
~~~~~~~~~
Rainy blessing
On my forehead;
Aqueous baptism
~~~~~~~~~
Cigarette ban enforced
Public places gazetted;
Motley odd faces
~~~~~~~~~
Miniature books
Curios I fancy;
Deeply moving
~~~~~~~~~
Curious excursions
Wonder greets sore eyes;
Abrupt delights
~~~~~~~~~
Takeaway meal packs
Simple nourishment;
TV distractions
~~~~~~~~~
Bus stop crowd
Huddle for shelter;
Torrential rain
~~~~~~~~~
Darkness rains swift
Night crickets buzz;
Neat escapades
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
05 June 2016
Singapore
Orphaned Slab
by Odin Roark
They call me a foundation
once supporting siding and stone
wire
plumbing
shingles
Through the doors of my house
trailed family and friends
across kitchen floor
slanted slightly
letting Benny’s agate marbles
migrate to the corner
Atop my shoulders
a house of character once stood
usual middle class floor plan
even allowing spidery webs
their solace in pantry corners
squirrels their roof
foraging to cottonwood trees
shading the three second-story bedrooms
kept perfect for home visits
from children away at college
Downstairs
Everett’s TV room rocker
always moving back and forth
massaged my back
well
it was a mild massage through the flooring
mostly my imagination
coming as it did
through layered rugs and cat hair
Yeah
used to hear mother’s complaints
“That old vacuum is useless. We need a Kirby, damn it”
He’d usually stop his rocking for a second or two
then let her know “Just lean in more. All it needs.”
and back to his rocking “Kirby. Out of her mind.”
But
Come spring break
Sara’s boombox
was rocking of another kind
no imagination needed there
reminded me how secure
this old foundation was
until the afternoon when…
Felt like a distant train
but the clackety-clack of rail cars
was out of sync
out of control
Wind moved in
then rain
then wind and rain
then that God-awful train again
had to be from Hell
or someplace worse
thundering through…
It was a long night
Been a long couple of weeks
Weeds and spider webs now connect
through cracks in my body
A squirrel or two survived
peeking about once in a while
still clinging to their downed cottonwood
wishing the foraging path was still there
wishing there was something to forage
Me?
Well
I’m just a surviving foundation
awaiting tomorrow’s sunrise
hoping for just the right temperature
early in the morning
before the sun adds its bleaching effect
and I start to remember again
Perhaps I’ll have earned
some afternoon showers
some nourishment for the weeds
some droplet sparkles
for my spidery friend’s web
and who knows…
We’re regretful of so much loss
the other slabs and me
but a foundation is a foundation
that’s what we’re built for
The start-ups
The start-overs
Orphan today
adopted tomorrow
So goes the life of a slab
A life some might say
is a thankless existence
Not so
Imagine I posted a cute video. Dog looking intensely at something, or it might not be a dog, the video is shaky and fuzzy, maybe it's actually a log or an old shoe. Shift camera phone to show what dog is gazing at, might be a squirrel or a raccoon, but if it was, it's gone now, all that can be seen are bushes or maybe that's a rug hung up to dry.
Then hear me laugh on video soundtrack, or maybe I'm strangling; and someone says, "Did you get that? You should put it on youtube!" Or perhaps it was some random and garbled sentence picked up from NPR. So here it is. Cute video of nothing interesting headlined "Wait until you see the end!" Everyone will share that.
What timid lamb discerns I am trustworthy, drawing near?
What deer could hear my message clear, "There's no need for alarm"?
What rabbit out of habit doesn't dash in mortal fear?
What sigh could signify to butterfly, "My heart is warm"?
What squirrel won't twirl and run when my one goal is to endear?
What word, if heard by hummingbird conveys, "I mean no harm?"
How do you spell the word to tell the woman you've dreamed of;
that word of balm to soothe and calm the fears she dares not show?
How would you try to say you'd die for her, whom you most love?
How to persuade your doubt-filled maid, when still these ill winds blow
into her mind? Grieving, you find your unrequited dove
still sees in you an archer, who could wield a deadly bow.
Reflection of Dreams
Our dreams reflected on the shallow pool.
Wild elephant grasses in panorama.
Spent myriad moments, beautiful!
Pink Periwinkles spreading mild aroma.
Shadow of broken bridge partly visible,
reflecting shape of an eye just under
round stone at the edge looked like black pupil.
We got amused observing eighth wonder.
Enjoyed the kaleidoscope of butterflies.
Fed ducks-ducklings, listened to loud cricket.
Swift squirrel scrambling, scudding, climbing trees.
Dreams reflected on two hearts. Days went great.
On the broken abandoned bridge we met
to experience first kiss on First Date.
06/23/17
Waking pries open my eyes. Pliable
lids, blinking honors nature. My outdoor
neighbor takes umbrage underneath the umbrella
of a palm tree next to the apartment complex.
At first the squirrel's sky puffed-fluffy tail undulates
below the sun and then above lawn grass.
While the facial polar end of the squirrel sounds pissed,
vertical swiveling on the palm's trunk,
the counterclockwise furry spot, the rat-face strays
as if it were a canister's hissed aerosol.
Tinkering from a hotel piano
across the street, there's an inkling
that it's not nature off-tune
quavering through the morning air
like an emergency-kit gauze
had been placed on a woman, and I don't know where.
The lady stranger briefly seems absorbed.
A crop of dark hair frames the right side of her throat.
Black curls sweep across her shoulder and bare
a clavicle at the turning of her head. Goth
waves nestle her downed chin, her face tilted loose
from the constant guarding of her décolletage.
Central Park: we watched a hawk
Who picked apart his prey.
Many people gathered ‘round
To witness this display.
I thought he must be pulling at
A squirrel or a rat,
The creatures he’d encounter
In his urban habitat.
But soon I realized I was wrong
‘Cause, though it seems absurd,
The dinner he was picking at
Most likely was a bird.
I recognized its tail, by shape,
When lifted by his beak;
But really, what alerted me
Were all the birds, a’shriek.
For fellow avians came near
A’flutter and attacking;
They swooped right down and grazed that hawk
As he was gamely snacking.
I gave them credit for their nerve –
So brash, so bold, so brazen;
They tried so hard to vex that hawk,
Like outlaws, guns a’blazin’.
The hawk ignored them, had his meal
Then flew off, with pursuers;
The birds still hounded, but his flight
Dispersed the human viewers.
Yet we were grateful for the show –
Real nature, in the flesh.
You never know when natural law
And life will chance to mesh.
Ilene Bauer (http://primetimerhyme.blogspot.com)
oh little acorn so small an odd , fallen but not forgotten , from seed to majestic oak, oh little acorn how youve grown.
oh little acorn so odd indeed , matured , and mighty , and strong, with leaves a plenty , from branch to branch ,they go on and on.
oh little acorn , now a tree beaming with vibrant life , home to many creatures , birds nesting and squirrel alike oh little acorn from tiny to ton.
oh little acorn , time has passed and now your roots have flourished, and found there place, blooming with renewal of hope and strength , oh little acorn now a pillar of grace.
oh little acorn ever so bountiful and beautiful , speckled with greens and golds , oh little acorn , fruitful, still odd , now little acorn , life has become full circle , and once so small and odd no longer little acorn anymore
DOG CHASES TAIL
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In circles goes the dog,
a furry whirlwind, tail a-wagging,
his nose to the ground, sniffing out the ghost of a bone
with no clue as to where he left it.
Ahh, the circle grows, and me thinks he’s quite mad!
Truth be told, that bone is a relic,
a trophy of nothing, a piece of yesterday's joy,
devoid of any savory delight;
yet, he’s bewitched
by the lure of that which once he had.
The quest persists, but time, the trickster,
plays its multifarious games.
Memory grows faint, but
the haze of longing remains
lost in the labyrinth of time.
Distractions dart by—a squirrel, a leaf,
But wait—what’s this? A flash of color
bounces by and the spell is broken,
the quest for the bone forgotten,
distraction wagging his tail.
And so he circles, a furry Sisyphus,
chasing phantoms in the grass,
he sniffs, snorts, and spins—
a canine circus act.
I Found A Mile-Long Stick.
And When I Touch It...
The Other End Moves
With Each Shiver.
There And Then.
A Mile Away.
Now Is Now.
-Fast! Not Speedy!-
Just Is.
***
It's Not Resistant
To Struggle...
It's Not Made Of
Connections, Like
Grandma's Whispering
Game... You Recall?
No! It's More Revealing.
It's Not A Stick.
It's Made Of Light.
And It’s More Than A Mile.
It’s Instantaneous...
Distance Maxed.
Not Measurable.
That's How It's
Timeless.
But Our Senses
Feel... Which
Needs:
Propagation!
(According To The Propaganda.)
-Gray Squirrel
08-17-2026