Possum Poems | Examples

Possum Trash

This sandy shore is mine, I am its vassal;
building my fort, I was much too facile.
Just as I finished, here came a passel,
a passel of beach possums, razzle-dazzle.
I'm not quittin', though it be a hassle;
possum trash'l be an awesome castle.

Possum

babies on her back
     the possum crossed the river
          a log was her bridge

Poseidon's Possum

The strangest things happen
in the Northern hemisphere
dancing dervishes
become the norm
in the mid Norwegian Sun,
mercator projected
A bird in flight
caught by the car lights,
travelling incognito.
Recess to be free,
there's a longing ;
in the upper atmosphere
see the lodestar disappear.

Emagi Tse ' Old Possum'

^   ^
                  (   o   o   )
                         -
                 (               )   
                (                 )
                  ( ||     ||   )°°°°°°
                                            °
                                               °°°°°°

Play Possum

wild possum plays dead
woodpecker knocks on green wood
willow weeps for both
wherever the carcass is
will the vulture there gather

Play Possum

Play possum, feeding not dark fears
As they spiral inwards 
Choose bliss instead, that love endears 
Propelling us upwards 

Transcend fear and desire
For love and light, aspire
Pure innocence afire

We’re awesome
Play possum

23-October-2021
Quietus

Pick-A-Title, Vol 26 - Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh

Play Possum

Play possum; act like you have died,
especially if you cannot hide.
Were there no exits to run to,
pretending death is what I’d do.
This strategy I’d not deride!

Let’s say a shooter has been spied.
Folks are running, scared through and through.
To the floor, let your body slide . . .
                                          Play possum.

The shooter likely will decide
to chase those fleeing. don’t provide
to such a madman any clue
that you’re breathing. Even in view,
lie still! Death might seem bona fide.
                                       Play possum.


Oct. 20, 2021 Title #3: Play Possum
for Edward Ibeh's Pick-A-Title, Vol 26 - Poetry Contest

Play Possum

A game she had played every night 
on guard for that opened-door light;
was quick to react,
cause it was a fact-
each time, it was somewhat a fright!

Cause, under the covers, you see,
'twas something, that just shouldn't be;
a light in her hand
hid like contraband
for something, she'd do happily.

At this hour, she should be asleep-
so that's why mom comes in to peep.
And to mom's surprise
closed tight are her eyes-
zonked out like she counted her sheep.

But, little did mom come to know
that hiding beneath the bed throw-
another good book
a light in the crook
for reading by her secret glow!

Play possum was her secret game;
close book and light- shut eyes became
for seven-year-old
worth its weight in gold 
to do what she loved without blame!


October 19, 2021

First Place
Contest: Pick-A-Title, Vol 26
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Theme 3: Play Possum

8 syllable lines, rhythm -/--/--/
5 syllable lines, rhythm -/--/

True! One of my granddaughters many years ago!

Possum

Beautiful possum
lying in the street
buzzard food

Peter Possum -- Mp

Peter Possum had a nasty rep
He was so white, he couldn't be hep
  He got him some brown paint
  Said, "I am what I ain't!"
If he'd only unlearn that goose step





Note: MP in the title stands for Military Police

Playing Possum

Playing possum
            to an Alaskan grizzly
            barged into his tent, 
                unsuccessful.
       Good news and bad news.
             Bad news first.
       He was viciously mauled;
             bitten in the back 
          and thrashed around
                like a rag doll.
                 Good news.
               He's still alive.
                Thank God!


Date written: 04/19/2020

While Driving At Night

rabbits leap across
loneliest graveled dirt roads
barely missing tires
~
possum shuffle past
the white lines along the curbs
hopes fill their belly
~
raccoon dart out from
beneath laurels and pine trees
hustling toward hills
~
bear lumber along
awaiting hibernation
along forest trails
~
deer travel quiet
sighing soft in the headlights
through misty night fog

The Ballad of Ma Possum

THE BALLAD OF MA POSSUM
Roofing like a penthouse floor,
Tis not a haunt but Ma's snore.
A wombatic possum in appearance,
Being nature's pinup is her arrogance.
Her distintictive, brush, bob tail, loss,
reputedly, respected as the boss poss.

Hearing her grunt and fight,
echoing a freaky still night fright.
Oh!, nightlife beware,
if Ma is anywhere.
trees n eyes in the wood
is part of Ma's family hood.

Scratchings at the door,
signals to eat, until no more,
Possum busters have done their best,
But Ma thinks, tis a game and quest.
With her teeth and claws,
makes furnishings with any trapddors.

Characterise, personalise or humanise,
big booted, smudged lipstick and pearl,
smokin cigars, no sweet little girl,
tough and ready to roll,
she aint no possum doll.
A pet possum sage, 
outliving the legends of her long age.

Picking Okra Was Before Child Abuse Or I'D Rather Eat a Possum

Picking Okra was Before Child Abuse
or
I'd Rather Eat a Possum
By: Tom Wright
8/5/00

Layers of clouds lay overhead,
perhaps a summer rain.
Though tempted to denounce,
as a child, I would refrain.
A carpet of dust surrounds bare feet,
large drops are now falling,
Warm, as they hit my unclad back,
while from a distance, Mother calling.
Thunder cracking,
lightening flashes, at first, just a bit,
and near the porch, an aging poplar
has taken a direct hit.
Tell me again Mom,
It's too dangerous to pick Okra,*
but not to wash fruit jars.  **
Now try convincing a " loggerhead " of that. ***
Would rather play with my toy cars.
Shou'da wore a shirt, Itching all over,
Fried Okra sure is fun to eat,
not so for a boy to pick.
First, get the tub and take a Lysol bath,
then maybe a treat.
Valuable lessons they assured I was learning,
and at some latter day, I'd use.
But picking Okra has never helped,
today, it's called Child Abuse.


* (What lightening danger Mom, I got under a tree,) 
**1f I cut my hand on a jar, then you'll be sorry).  
***(thought that was my name until Jr. high)

A Vain Manx

I once had a Manx who constantly primped; her white underbelly never sported one piece of grass or dirt.  She kept so clean and fluffy that we’d no idea he’d had her backside chewed up for three days, by an Opossum!

In altercation
My cat became Opossum
Chow wearing teeth marks.

• Short Possum Poems
• Famous Possum Poems
• Best Possum Poems
• Read Possum Poems
• Long Possum Poems
• Possum Quotes