Short Prehensile Poems
Short Prehensile Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Prehensile by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Prehensile by length and keyword.
prehensile primate
swinging through the canopy
what a gripping tale
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impatient lover
white prehensile phalanxes
smell of stale kisses
© RAJAT KANTI CHAKRABARTY
12 DECEMBER 2014
If medicine gives us a tail,
The proper should not let it flail.
It should be coiled tight,
Though tea-holding's right,
Or holding the rudder to sail.
My neighbor has a marmoset
a most unusual urban pet
His monkey has a silken coat
and a non-prehensile tail
Which helped my neighbor not at all
~ when off he went to jail
Oh, to swing from jungle trees,
Mother Nature's flying trapeze.
I'd doff my shirt, my pants, my tie,
and to the Amazon I'd fly,
where I would gladly make avail
of my own prehensile tail.
“Pooh”
Winnie’s squeezed sigh was rather prehensile
butt Oh bother! was the scoop by Walter Winchell
bears do do do in the woods
but the buzz to bee understood
is it’s trees that make number two pencils
Pre Computer Age
By: Miracle Man
December 30, 2021
Coffee stains on unlined paper;
a number two lead pencil,
erasure mostly gone.
Thoughts that appeared as vapor;
I desired to be prehensile,
each break of dawn.
What was needed was a short pencil
with a long erasure.
Tom
Their prehensile tails act as a fifth limb, helping spider monkeys swing from tree to tree. They often hang by this amazing appendage as they wrestle and play high enough to resemble spiders.
jungle boogie
tails of spider monkeys
screeching acrobats
There once was a girl named Gail
she was born with a prehensile tail
quite a sight to behold
is what I've been told
especially when she's climbing in trees.
Believe it or not, if you dare
it was hard for most not to stare
she learned fairly soon
that her tail was a boon
in the circus, a star she would be.
So the story turns out, you see
this tail, like an arm, making three
made her money with ease
on the flying trapeze,
quite a tale of a tail in the end!
Delta. I was the fourth child.
The delta connection of a
triangular love. No blues.
Only cottony belly.
My copper coins. I want to save
them for making talismans.
My arms are entwined like
a python around the neck of a medusa.
That hairy push of a trident.
The stinging tentacles. The
polyp was enlarging. Now the
snake was shedding the skin.
Statesmen. They change their colour
like chamaeleon. Prehensile
tail trailing behind the witch-
craft of black goddess.
Satish Verma