Short Baying Poems
Short Baying Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Baying by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Baying by length and keyword.
Boorish hater of light.
Bashful, burrowing soul.
Baited with putrid smells,
Bereft of colorize.
Basking in dirt and damp.
Baying at sounds above.
Being ... once a human.
Leap from the bed, need to stay ahead
of the upstart pack, baying for bloodshed
Visions of the abyss, from high on life's cliff
spur me to fight the daily battle for bread
This is for men, is there anything more painful
Being hit 'tween the legs, no way to be graceful
You clutch at your groin
Some animals do join
Baying at the moon with instincts prenatal
Howling at the moon...
feeding on fanatical fears...
in a pack of predators preying...
baying and baying...
wolf in sheep's clothing
August 23, 2018
Wolves and the Moon Contest
by Julia Ward
N/A
Wolves baying at old
Mother Moon as she sits in
Obsidian sky;
Night slipped unnoticed;
Across the land, waking her;
Assigned her to work.
She and Sun will not
Be able to retire;
They will work till death.
A pack of snarling wolves
baying for my blood.
Battered, bruised and bleeding
yet I won’t give up the fight!
Contest: Something with Great Impact
Sponsor Nette Onclaud
Jan Allison
20 words used
20th December 2015
Wolves baying at old
Mother Moon as she sits in
Obsidian sky;
Night slipped unnoticed;
Across the land, waking her;
And put her to work.
She and Sun will not
Be able to retire;
They will work till death.
This is for men, is there anything more painful
Than being hit 'tween the legs, no way to be graceful
You clutch at your groin
Animals do join
Baying at the moon reverting to their instincts prenatal
© Jack Ellison 2016
The hounds are baying
my hand trembles
I take a whisky to calm my nerves
The rain relaints
My tears have a glint
The fate I sought
has vanished in the haze
I rise my tune
and sweetly sing my time
as the harlequins lurch
somedays soon
Let your hair down
Listen to the sound of the baying hound
hear your inner voice
Cuz it's your choice
Don't let yourself be bound to any life-like form
Gotta feel warm
Like fire inner bound.
Let your eyes and ears adorn
All the freedom that's around.
A MERE HINT OF MALICE
paprikash chicken…
sweet dish...sink your teeth into
...careful of the host
his eyes hypnotize…
delighted to wine and dine
...hungry for Harker*
single baying wolf
under your satin window
...salivating dreams
4/30/2018
*From Bram Stoker’s Dracula
The ghosts of fear are nesting
glaring clouds that are driven
A procession of baying donkeys
The ponds reflection loudly decries
as gulls shriek for attention
Nighttimes plumage banishes bluish
A torrent of rain flatters
the receiving river
painted by the sunshine
in the days of gold
Open the Gate's
And let the Lepers in
And pray the Conscious of the Survivors
Send the Rescue Boats back
Before the Screaming stop's
Free the Beggar from the Stocks
And ask the Baying Crowd show Mercy
Retract the Gallows and Burn the Rope
Fill your palm with a hand of dirt
And know the value of time on earth
A murder of crows straggled
across the grey February sky
with light snow slowly falling
blanketing the world in untracked
silence, until we crossed coyote
tracks setting off Xena’s baying.
Back home, after breakfast and
coffee, I fired up the laptop to
pink flamingos before blue water,
Windows 10’s screen of the day.
And the praying mantis is baying
for an excursion to sunnier chimes
The Sun goes down
bored casting shadows
Have you heard this one?
obscene said the Minister for good taste.
And the Moon wishes it was somewhere else
as our sprawling vows break up
like the crumbling of rocks
Fortitude dear one
said the purveyor
never to raise again
laid me down
within cold tomb
light capture me
neath baying tree
feel thy warmth once more
white spirit of feathered down
lay upon my soul
pray set me to rest
Written to accompany one of my photographs.
This is the link to the image...
http://www.redbubble.com/people/indigo-song/works/8341009-white-feather-spirit
A cricket's trill signals nightfall;
Dusk drains color till all looks stark.
And Nature dons a misty shawl
as fireflies flicker in the dark.
While shadows spread,
the sun bleeds red.
An interrogative owl's call
implies it needs a question mark.
And shifting shadows merge and sprawl
to the baying of a dog's bark.
Night follows day;
that's Nature's way.
BAYING HOUNDS
I will forsake them
ignore them-- the
baying hounds of
my
heart and head
sad-eyed and old
with
belly slumping
to the ground
awaiting…
another silent
turn of the moon
to promote their
noisy- toothless
challenges
summoning lupine
lore
stirring up a storm of
maddening mental
architecture
with the chase
of foreplay
foray and
glory
Late at night and all around
Hear the baying of the hounds
A sound
That carries to the stars
In town
With silent streets and cars
Dark lit houses line the streets
People out are few to meet
To greet
On the paths star lit
A seat
Under the lamp post sits
Busy streets are now forlorn
For quiet places homes so warm
The alarms
Have since been set to wake
The forms
Of people from sleeping state
I listen to the howling of the wind
hear not her cries
know not her pain.
I listen to the roaring surf growl
as it devours
the fleeing shore.
I listen to the serenade
sparrows welcoming
a rising sun.
I listen to the baying
moonstruck
wolves.
Yet hear
only life’s
reverberating chant.
©3/25/2018
submitted to – LATE MAR 2018 STANDARD CONTEST
sponsor – Brian Strand
April wood anenomes
Latticed branches high above
Gold pink orange swaying
Crows caw bees hum galore
Distant foxhounds baying
April wood anenomes
Tattooed black line etchings
Charcoal burnings do reek
I sense bluebells waiting
Grass still, under boughs creak
April wood anenomes
Fronded petals caress
Darting the fervid Thrush
Breezes sweet flow coolly
Creation waits; a rush.'
Floating around the town
Not looking up or down
Whistling a little tune
At night baying at the moon
Chasing the odd skirt now and then
Just a distraction in the end
Such a snappy dresser he was
Never a straight answer just because
And the truth is such a little thing
When to a conversation it will bring
Something unusual he would think
Maybe even bring him to the brink.
© Paul Warren Poetry
The black dogs barking
Sending you mad
Howling like crazy
Baying and whining
Driving you mad
Telling you this
Telling you that
Making up the future
Changing the past
Invading you’re thoughts
With the what and the why
and the how and the who
No time for logic
No room for common sense
The black dog is braying
Relentless won’t stop
Yapping and crying
The thing will not stop
Growling and snarling
Sending you mad
there you are deep in the woodlands
dancing where the fireflies abound
no one would even know you're there
if it wasn't for the baying of the hounds
you sprinkle all your magic dust
where it is needed most
the garden is your favorite spot
behind our house on the eastern coast
what you do and where you go
it matters not to me at all
i only know it thrills me so when
i watch the faeries spring time ball
Methinks there are too many GODS
One inside each head
Unable to agree on much
That is until they're dead
Some claim just one
Yet can't agree
On how that ONE
Sees you and me
Yet others herd
With twisted texts
Of humble voices
Loudly flexed
There are those
Who have not one
Yet gather Sunday's
Just for fun
The GODS sit rollicking
In laughter
Their baying sheep
Put out to pasture
John G. Lawless
8/2/2020