Short Patrols Poems

MORNING~BUG   PATROLS

EARLY~BIRD  MENU  ON  SHOW  .

SO ,  COME FLY WITH  ME  ....

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She's short and squatty, all ass, no body
Looks like this one's gonna end up bawdy
Out of control
The censor patrols
Gonna get me unless they're into the hot toddies...

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Majestic and tall,
This velvet antlered stag king
Patrols his realm so
 
With herd so mighty
Hinds bow heads as he passes;
Newborn calves frolic
 
Highland heather blooms
Snow capped mountains, horizon view
Kingdom of the glens.


http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/scotland.php...

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For hygiene no hope,
No recourse to soap,
Cleanliness for rope
Germs no longer grope;
Easy patrols: lope

To those who hate soap
Do you ever cope?
All Catholics Nope!”
For I could tell Pope.

Soap is Next father
Of laundry’s lather
Dwarfed only by surf
But to Dirt still rough

Use it no odour
You’ll smell the other....

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Four-legged guard patrols the papered wall,
Stood by whispering windowpane wind drawls
She is grand, grandiose hardwood keys small
And all across the lounge room rug, she sprawls.
Four-legged guard waltzes to the evening ball.
She dances in her homestead in A minor calls,
The acoustic pride echoes bold and tall
And the chorus chords charms the hall....

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in the dark I hear the creek
its full
tumbling over rocks I haven't moved
to make way
dark shepherd
steps across the mud
tastes 
and stops
lifts black nose to the air
and half closes his eyes
satisfaction
patrols the yard 
past the fence and raspberries
shining eyes in the dark
from the porch I feel him coming closer
then warm breath and
nose to arm
touch
safe...

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Escaping through a window,
he mounts a silver skeleton.
Flying downhill, dispensing power
through straining ligaments.
His heroic calves squeezing light
into cone-shaped yellow beams
Then uphill, the counter-attack
of implacable night.
The boy speeds through
sleeping streets,
cape flowing, eye-mask
unseen, essential though
for a peddle-powered hero
who patrols
by the glow of a dynamo....

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White noise echoes equally from wall to painted mural,
dancing like a whimsy wisp of width;
where waters drip and notes all slip,
sound patrols the minute holes that cause acoustic depression;
pizzicato strikes like bikes on blacktop every day,
leaving skids for little kids, loud scats scoop brats away,
with solos soaring boringly and duets dazzling dew,
it’s hard to not hear voices, different choices scream at you....

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At harvest time
Where a white ghost flies
Across a blood red moon
Behind the fields the rolling hills
Are purple, pink and blue

Over a dreaming wheat field
A barn owl patrols
Noiselessly it glides
Over the golden yellow drifts

Suddenly, it flaps its wings
And stares down intently
Below on the soil a startled vole
Sees a white star fall
A squeak and the owl is gone 
And with it the limp vole....

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The radio cackles in the night
Tasking patrols to domestics, break-ins and a fight
You listen for your call sign 
Whilst the radio continues its grind
Delta 10 a group of youths causing a disturbance
Roger we are on our way our message is sent
Delta 10 we are away 
We talk to the youths and send them on their way
Delta 10 we're resuming youths have been moved on
We are back on the air now
Listening to the police radio for know how.

© Paul Warren Poetry...

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I don't have a dog
Doesn't mean I don't like a dog
A friend has two
And from the way he walks them through

The Alsatians strut along the street
Black and tan, they look so sweet
The German breeds are more than pets
They saunter along like a branch of cadets

Beautiful souls
Sure of their patrols
Never nervous
And prompt to calls for service


The German shepherds
Are very good shepherds
With impulses leading to quests
They checkmate uninvited guests...

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With noiseless hammer
the Master Carpenter builds
our earthly home.
Our labor there is useless -
we do not rest on His Word.
~~~
With hallowed armor
the Master Sentry patrols
the place where we dwell
Foremost, our nation’s defense
demands a grasp of His Sword.
~~~
With joy, celebrate
the Master Archer’s blessing
of many children.
We do well to set their aim
as straight arrows for His bow.

inspired by Psalm 127
5TH PLACE WINNER, Greg Barden's contest (last stanza only)
...

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