Long Tigers Poems
Long Tigers Poems. Below are the most popular long Tigers by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tigers poems by poem length and keyword.
Bloom or bouquet or bunch or bare brief buttonhole,
Fresh or full-blown or nosegay or fresh posy role;
Flowers blossom in saucy slimy silkiness,
Seek them to be the same, is senile silliness.
Red-necked Tanager cannot be Mandarin duck,
Let blue-crowned pigeon be not a Cock-of-the-rock;
Why should Sloth bear resemble the Asian lion,
Blue bull and blackbuck be of their sacred scion...
Why should violate violet from the Rainbow?
Why should waters of rivers always in green flow?
Why should be a dragonfly, like a firefly glow?
Why should bright tigers, like monkeys, gloomy fur grow?
Do not say she's fair; her eyes cattish; hair golden,
Vein greenish; Blood-red; Heart dull or tiger-Bolden;
He is chocolate; Great! What a coco-color!
Cut flesh is whitish! Blood like hers! Physique Splendor!
Sands of sea-shores have so finely shining colors,
Stars have strange colors - flying like royal mullers;
Gardens, Parks, Forests, deserts, coastally global
Each filled with colors sublime fantastic, noble...
Yes, the cosmos is a kaleidoscope. Accept!
Everyone's a unique color in it. Respect!
Kaleidoscopic color, like Artesian, springs,
It's in this kaleidoscope our existence swings.
21 August 2021
Kaleidoscope Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke
A quote from "90 North" by Randall Jarrell:
"I see at last that all the knowledge
I wrung from darkness -- that the darkness flung me --
is worthless as ignorance: nothing comes from nothing,
The darkness from the darkness. Pain comes from the darkness.
And we call it wisdom. It is pain."
The first bike I ever owned --
when I was ten or eleven --
was a Christmas gift
from a friend. He was receiving a new one
and I was gifted with his old bike.
He had cleaned it up and brush painted it
with a nice coat of red paint.
It was the only gift I got that year,
one of my only gifts as a child.
I loved that bike:
it freed me to pedal around so
I could accompany my friend
as we rode anywhere in our tiny,
sandy, two-paved-road fishing town.
Before the bike, I ran alongside him.
I was quite accustomed to running everywhere,
especially in summer, barefoot, usually shirtless.
Most years from first grade
until we were about twelve,
we spent our time together,
at his house or in imaginary jungles
or on wild, indian-infested wagon train trails.
We defended those trails from apaches
intent on taking our scalps.
Sometimes, on pirate ships, we manned canons
or forced reluctant traitors and mutineers
to walk the plank for failures and misdeeds.
We were never bored, usually outdoors.
On jungle safaris we were frequently attacked
by ferocious lions and tigers and
often captured by cannibal head-hunters
who put us into large pots to cook us
while dancing all around and brandishing
their spears. They sang or chanted
amazing, invented language repetitive
verses overloaded with frequent "ughs'
and tongue-twisting nonsense phrases.
His mother served us gallons of Kool Aid,
gave us snacks we ate with relish.
With a child’s trusting nature,
I hoped this could never end –
I felt secure in friendship and
apparent acceptance by
my friend’s parents. Of course,
things did change.
But..........I did not.
Not for a long, long time.
Jehovah of Armies
made a count one day
of all His weapons
keeping man at bay
of non leathal weapons
He gave the skunk his stink
and a little less harmless
the octopus' ink
sometimes more is needed
to get a point across
a little pain and fear
to impress a loss
soon there will be no doubt
about how they feel
if just once they touch
the electric eel
always beware of
little thing with wings
some may bite
and some may sting
one final warning
and one final note
a very harsh warning
is a bunt of a goat
but for those who are
less fearful
and bent on adventure
who challenges the snows
and suns of nature
to those that would climb
Gods invisible wall
shatter Gods ceiling
ignore Gods calls
for those who would face
the ultimate threat
the deadliest creatchers
man has ever met
Gods final judgement
more or less
escape from these creatures
the ultimate conquest
you've made it this far
dont stop now
how much more can you defy
Gods laws
you may escape the tigers claws
be just missed by hungry jaws
quick enough to avoid the cobras strike
smart enough not to challenge
the elephants might
witty enough to escape
the anaconda grip
be very careful not to slip
lucky enough to avoid all fangs
with venomous and vicious names
tempting not the bull
to gore
declairing never to stand behind
a mule once more
so far weve made it
still living and breathing
Jehovah of Armies
protecting and scheming
Form:
Cats have always been with me
each in their own way
has run my house, has run my life,
and worried me when they strayed.
White cats like Alice’s Snowdrop
or striped tigers like the Cheshire
Longhaired Coons from Maine
Now those really are a treasure!
Long whiskers speared the dust bunnies
underneath my rumpled bed’s shell
and they found my missing sock
but they would never tell.
My Pixies paws smelled like popcorn!
Her tummy fur was sweet and long
I’ve heard folks have spun yarn from it
which kept them very warm.
I dream, of black cats I have loved
and tortoise shell “money cats”
I’ve thought of them as babies BUT
They didn’t think much of that.
I’d rather have a cat with me
For the rest of the life I’m given
Oh please give me one more cat
before I leave for heaven.
Dedicated to the Cheshire Cat in Alice
When tons of doom filled nights fall on your head,
hot embers glow and fires burn unabated,
you recall her last breath and wish you were dead.
In a poem's sad lines you've been castrated.
From the heavens a voice thunders dire threats
about losses and breakfasts consumed without eggs.
Fumbling about, looking to hedge your bets,
you drink your cold coffee, down to burnt dregs.
On waking you find dawn's hard hammer fell
last night's burns are reminders of strife.
You stumble and look up from the pits of Hell,
recounting the reasons why you lost your wife.
Your clock chimes out vulgar curses at you
and your house bids you leave by peals at noon.
You think of the ancient, wicked dreams, too,
as night falls with its wretched lucent moon.
You dream of hungry tigers eating your boots.
Your house is perched atop two adjoining trees.
A hunter fires; but it's not a tiger he shoots.
Your second wife cuts off your legs at the knees.
With life's blood flowing from your severed veins
your heart bemoans that you married once more.
By morning you were free from nightmare's pains
but horrid memories linger behind closed doors.
What vast burdens you bear in fear of sleep
and hollows in your mind fill quickly with dread.
When your clock strikes twelve, I hear you weep,
" Odious anguish! I wish I were dead."
Shadows dance on your walls in candle light.
Dark images of her body pressed close to you,
waltzing in your arms on a moonlit night
but she vanishes when dawn's rays break through.
Which sort of dream scars your mind with more grief?
The ones in which you're butchered; burned by fire,
or when daylight steals her away like a furtive thief?
Will your penance release you from the leeching mire...
the terror you encounter each night as you lie abed?
Foolishly, you once thought love claimed your heart.
Therein lies the angst of what you most dread...
the vexing memories in dreams that tear you apart.
Co-Written with Robert Lindley based on the original
verses he offered in the open challenge on his blog.
Two rats can have over a million descendants
In eighteen months, talk about prolific
Don't know about all youse guys out there
But this guy finds that quite horrific
You'd produce enough gas for an atomic bomb
If you farted for 6 years and 9 months
Know a guy that could produce enough gas
For an atomic bomb by farting just once
Tigers have striped skin as well as striped fur
Now how damn interesting is that
A Ronald MacDonald once robbed Wendy's
I would guess he got his order fast
Tipping at Iceland is considered an insult
Sounds really civilized to me
The longest flight of a chicken is 13 seconds
It crash landed and broke a knee
Ribbon worms eat themselves if they can't find food
Now that's pretty desperate to me
Guess they start at the bum and work their way up
Don't think I've ever felt THAT hungry
Bob Hope and Billy Joel were both once boxers
Now I don't mean the doggy type
Chained dogs are 3 times more likely to bite us
Guess they have a reason to gripe
Clocks made before 1660 had only an hour hand
The world didn't have seconds back then
A jiffy is the time it takes for light to travel
One centimetre in a vacuum, I'm overwhelmed
Mahatma Gandhi wrote for advice on diet and exercise
To strongman Charles Atlas, I kid you not
Whoopi Goldberg's real name is Caryn Johnson
That can't be, we all love Whoopi a lot
Who said "I’ve watched a lot of baseball on the radio"
Yup! Good old President Gerald Ford
Way back, people threw eggs at the bride and groom
A custom that today would be deplored
© Jack Ellison 2015
The beginning
When the ocean hit the shore, sea spray flew up
The droplets that flew the highest became birds
The droplets that fell on the strand became life
Some drops that had Iris within became humanlike
The sand that was washed back into the sea
Became fish, the ocean foam became insects
the Man, was born; as they crept to seek shelter
Most of them were eaten by birds
Smaller droplets cooled by the breeze became
Tigers, wolves, and deer whose beauty lit up the glen
Where flowers bloomed and rabbits roamed in peace
Till humans became predators and rulers
The sacred iris people, who had a soul and sense
Had a choice to make, to become angelic or live
In a competitive world that had no room for losers
That is why humanity lives in conflict with itself
In our world plenty of light has got brutally put out
In our faces a lot of orange leaves no more sprout
In your sorrow just hollow floral bunch I hand out
The dark shadow of Erebus becoming more stout
Prayer for concord are burnt out and hospitalized
Had there been around today the famous Orpheus
In our tongue and lips and the restive unconscious
Had there been some scraps of broken lyre wires
Our music could have somewhat cured our distrust
Escalating with the universe in its space and time
With your lyre as you would walk the paths of pain
Like the mother of night the stars in a sweet strain
Like the palm of morning a harmony would contain
All the lions and tigers that we nurture in our brain
And they would all act like their blond and mild fur
This very Orpheus however got wobbly and fragile
As his partner Eurydice he looked back at to fondle
She vanished in the air leaving a pain and puzzle
Gloomy and vagabond he was slain by a scoundrel
Though eminent our cognitive poise we mustn’t lose
October 10, 2017
For Poems that paint a picture Poetry Contest 4
Sponsored Contest by Silent One
You have been golfing your time away when
When your authority is dying and babies are crying
You have been golfing your time away when there is
no coffee in the pantries, and no food on the kitchen table
You have been golfing your time away when the
baby’s milk is spoiling in the kitchen sink and the
pigeons are dying. The roosters are crowing aloud
and the lions and tigers are gallivanting about with
a headless crown .Christmas and Thanksgiving is
a time for family gathering but millions had nothing
to share because many people were not there. Some
have been torn apart, others are left in the dark while
others are still six feet below the ground and their spirits
are prowling around . You are golfing your time away
When the postal service man and the courier service van
did not get an extra dollar to add salad to their
evening supper. The nights are cold, the rooms are dark
and the rich is singing and shouting amen hallelujah over a lavishing dinner. Listen carefully to what I have to say and don’t let your pride get
in the way. You must pay attention to what is transpiring around and read the messages that nature is sending you.
The big and bold the bright, smart and beautiful is the
the cardboard laptop woman who have been feedings you
I need your help with enhanced technology and resources to feed my belly
They have sworn to cut off my head and replaced it with a chicken head
but the chicken head fell to the ground before you could get to my
throne .Keep your eyes on the ground and look carefully at the hole
It is difficult to roll the ball in and you cannot throw the dice in
The ground is baked with rum punch and fruit cake
You have missed the shot because the covering around the hole and the hot grass on the lawn was too shallow .The heat is chiming in and you have to pay for your sins. You have been golfing your time away and don’t have time to pray. You tweet bad news in the middle of the night and your ego have made many sighed. Look up at sun and tell me what you see? the sun is shining with intensity in the sixth degree, and the galaxy is moving ferociously around you .It is time bury the guns and close the chapter behind you. The golf hole is closed and at midnight the lights will go out and darkness will descend upon the golf courts.
~ As early nightfall tousles my hair prism light,
the alchemy of a ceremonial parade begins
in this panel of a forest like a mystic scene
~ fondling my skin…jutting from nowhere,
a relay of tigers and flamingos swivel
on glowing shafts in the pale dark ... I freeze.
Some quick time frames away, the jungle rises
with raw stirrings of wildlife; an explosion
~ from a world curving a zebra's flowing movement
of unrehearsed art, of twilight spontaneity
~ oh so blind to human, mental gazes;
they slide away from such calculated moments as
.~ my body enters their changing symmetry
collapsing in mindless trance that nothing
from my eyes is ever hidden, not even the low
gushing in my breath… I shut my lids to memorize
the anatomy of their kind faces, those rising limbs
simply estranged from rehearsed gaiety.
And I seize their impressions defying the seeming
~ cramps of man’s robotic strides;
yet, i cannot hold them inside this head’s waves
~ of memory , consumed with the grace displayed
by creatures’ unbridled rites to its gods…
I become the humble slave of divine beasts.
`~ ~ ~ ~``
*from my journal about a night safari in Singapore
for Debbie Guzzi's Etcetera by nette onclaud