Short Field Mouse Poems
Short Field Mouse Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Field Mouse by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Field Mouse by length and keyword.
Nature
Atop a red rose
A field mouse soundly slept
When seen by a crow.
That swooped and ate the mouse
The rose didn’t lose a petal.
The fields have been swept clean
Round hay bales decorate the corners
Dry straw looking grass going dormant
Hawks search hoping for field mouse delicacy
Form:
nightfall in the woods
field mouse scurries on the ground
an eagle takes flight
snowflakes gathering
pine boughs droop beneath the weight
hatchlings to be fed
be it a dream
a nightmare
a field mouse
the moon
run
jump
fly
the chase means alive
do or die
the chase one day ends
tranquility transcends
the chase is a marathon
no one ever wins
teeny tiny field mouse did not have a chance there
eagle-eyed red headed buzzard spotted him from the air
swooped down, then took mouse up to fifteen thousand feet
making him into a squirming wiggly tasty treat
Dawn debuted stealthily,
as a breeze rustling through cat-tails;
But time, toted in its attache case,
the not-looked for;
Soon circumstances of the day
were screeching like a Red Tailed Hawk
with eyes set on a field mouse.
Can't Catch Me
field Mouse
did rouse
house cat
fell flat
took chase
fast race
small space
broke vase
smirk tease
took cheese
10/21/2016
Poetry Contest : FIVE FABULOUS FUN FOOTLES
Sponsored by: JAN ALLISON
A dashing, young field mouse
Once married a shrew,
And they set up housekeeping
In an old tennis shoe.
When their babies were born--
Not shrews and not mice--
They were the proud parents
Of a shoe full of shrice.
Form:
Idle nests linger
Fledgling feathers learn to fly
Angry winds scowl
The old bell shivers
Its tone muted in the cold
A fox perks its ears
A lost mitten weeps
What am I going to be
A field mouse moves in
An icy moon
A symphony of shadows
Nature’s nocturne
Death In The afternoon
The field mouse
So dolce
Sleeping in
A blue flower
The woman who took
This adorable picture
Also had a
Moggy
On the sofa it poured
And the lady will
Never know
What the cat did to
The mouse
As there are things
Cats do not care
Divulge
To us sensitive humans
April day is gorgeous.
I wake up early, head to my art studio.
Surrounded by paints and glitter, I feel wonderful.
Working simultaneously on four canvases, in the best of moods.
Humming to The Mamas and the Papas, seventies music.
My eye catches something running rapidly.
Screech!
Day ruined by one small black field mouse.
Hear yee Hear the among a willow tree with a stinging bee here living in the country without a living mind while sitting in my blind waiting to find a deer while drinking root beer when I blast a deer I have another sip of root beer while walking backto the house I see a field mouse while at home I skin the deer and cook the meat and have a large feist
Lone snowflakes drift in
As anorexic, claustrophobic bats shiver
Wrapped in their bat wing sleeping bags.
A field mouse plays “Three Little Pigs”
With a patch of straw.
An eerie wind whistles wickedly
Alarming an itinerant mole.
I snore, noisily unaware,
That my brother sub-let
His half of the den.
John G. Lawless
©1/21/2023
As the snow flitters down,
time seperates to reveal your beauteous face ---
So for one moment I stand transfixed ---
In the distance, I hear the cry of a falcon ---
Sailing above me,
I see it has a field mouse ---
Flying out of view,
I can imagine my own life paraleling
this tiny rodent's ---
As destiny, like the falcon,
brings me to my ultimate fate.
I believe in reincarnation more today than I ever have.
So when I spy a fat fluffy field mouse enjoying cat food,
I stamp my feet, encouraging her to run off.
She does not flinch, budge or stop devouring her treat.
Her tiny paws holding a kernel of Kibble like I hold my chips.
I say “Hi Dad,” knowing I am not going to hurt this creature.
I am in her world, outside, she is not in mine.
When I was beautiful
A rose in bloom
a field mouse
Climbed my stem
fell asleep in the center
To inhale and sleep
in my fragrance.
The rave
had no sense of beauty
I was a lure
The struggle was short.
Self-indulgent
I kissed the sun
Nothing untoward
had happened
Summers are so short
To be a revolutionary.
The Rose Revolution
in Portugal ended
now we have
social-democracy
I was beautiful
A rose in bloom, a field mouse
Climbed my stem and fell asleep in the centre
To inhale and sleep in my fragrance.
The rave had no sense of beauty, I was a lure
The struggle was short.
Self-indulgent, I kissed the sun
Nothing untoward had happened
Summers are so short
To be a political revolutionary.
The Rose Revolution in Portugal ended too
And we got social-democracy
MOUSE HOUSE*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In my shoe, I found quite a sight,
a small mouse, with fur soft and light.
He twitched and he squeaked,
as I gasped and I freaked,
Then we both took off running in fright!
*This poem is written in memoriam and dedicated to the field mouse who mistakenly decided our garage would be a cool place to wait out summer's heat.
The sweeping stops
the world cuts its own grass
feeds itself with the living
while the dead grow trees and turf.
You notice things,
the eyes of your eyes are open lattice windows,
shutters taking pictures;
making those images move.
Suddenly, as quite as a field mouse
the view you are watching
becomes just watching.
Only then do you recognize
this ever expanding life of all who move
through you.
A good old duck, a mother hen,
a friend of Peter Rabbit; chased
Mr. McGregor out of the garden:
the Flopsy Bunnies survive again.
She knew her ewes from her rams,
meticulous, house-proud in her way.
A hedgehog, a Mrs. Tiggy Winkle
every field mouse allowed to stay.
Cumbria and the Lake District
will never see her like again:
North country girl, illustrator,
storyteller with brush and pen.
God Controls Time
Miracle Man
8/20/2024
From high on it’s perch,
a patient hawk seeks it’s prey.
Also with each clock tick,
God is shortening man’s day
It’s “survival of the fittest”
so a field mouse below.
Is on the menu for dinner,
And clock continues to flow
The titmouse isn’t aware,
That it soon will be sup.
The clock keeps man’s time
God decides when it’s up.
See the house
In the country
Among the silent hills
And flower fields
Where green grass waves
Under blue sky
Long abandoned
Or is it
Take a closer look
And see
The new occupants
A fox slips out the back door
See her den in the kitchen
A field mouse now calls
The bedroom home
Bats sleep in the attic
An assortment of insects
Await those who seek
Though abandoned
And forgotten by man
This house is now cherished
By the wild
Bugs Bunny and Elmer Fudd
The trickster and the dud
Elmer's always left a frustrated man
Still trying to catch that rabbit is his plan
What's up doc?, Bugs Bunny said
Elmer heard it clearly from his bed
He grabbed his rifle and ran out the door
As Bugs Bunny laughed from the floor
Elmer soon ran back in to check his house
Not seeing anything other than a field mouse
Elmer relaxed and thought that had rabbit fled
As Bugs Bunny was now asleep in his bed
October brought in pumpkins, but also Priscila, autumn faerie.
Adorned in tangerines, oranges, yellows, her mood bright and airy.
She did not make herself known to the humans in the house.
But she was spotted instantly by a cat, pig and field mouse.
How often do you come here? Asked the curious cat.
Every October, stated the mouse, who was the size of a rat
The pig stared at the beautiful faerie, no words were said.
He dreamed of her often, that love-sick sow, Ed.
Laying in the summer sun in a field of green grass
In the distance a lake shimmering like a pain of clear glass
Birds are singing their sweet songs in the bushes and trees
And the soothing humming sound of the honey bees
The smell the wild flowers so pungent and delicious
The scurrying of a field mouse carefree but still suspicious
Laying in a field of green grass the warm sunshine on my face
Alone with my daydreaming away from the human race.