Snipes Poems | Examples

A Shepherd's Day

A Shepherd's Day by Suzanne Alexander (SA)

Wee, from East then West!
Seen one side then Next.
Feel a beautiful day, start is laid
Sjoe, from sting of Ray.This said,

Baa, from Ewe - distinct face!
Moor from one side at annex she graze,
Aye mi smeel yummy scone buttered.
Lighe nam lips whilst I muttered.

Shoo, splish-splash rain came unforseen
raining stairs of rods clearly seen
soil exposed with heathered bole
the red pigment irks the soul.

Ewe, come, sinn cùm sàbhailte! 
to the huge bole hole, wee time, to shed.
Close  jist ower the way so near,
baa, from rascal Mule , mi clu from ear.

C' mon ye little mule so blue
Safe its here by bole used as hue.
The noo! Mule. He came then settled.
Jack Snipe seen in marsh nestled.

Far in the distance a thunderclap
Meat today with pap.
With money earned just a little.
and hands brittle.

As the rain drops snipes my face, 
Content I am to run , this race
Yet a sadness for unfair wage
But joyful not being in a cage.

Day, from graft then came night 
Hame my manor is in sight.
Safe the ewe and mule I put,
aye, that'll dae. Day in tear and joy shut.

High Rise Legends

London growls under the tread
of diesel driven dreams.

A stork visits,
an attic full of discarded toys.
White mice sleep in pajamas,
made of childish nightmares.

Barges reek still, just as when,
sweat was as common as dirt.

A window in Baker Street,
opens to let pipe smoke out,
it uncoils in the air
like a left-handed genie.

Meat mongers return to their,
gore-soaked cradles
before the dawns leery light.

The city is a fable,
there is fuel oil seeping,
through tunnels and runnels,
where entrenched gutter snipes
lie low and wait.

Denizens' crabwalk
along Regents Street
barking Chinese commands
at oppressed corgis.

Stately towers are pressure washed,
until they shed a dark sunlight
that fractures ferrous raindrops.

Tenements sink under the weight,
of red carpets
until the blood flows
out of them.

London by night,
is a veneer,
a crust
of low expectations.

America Dreaming

It is time to get fresh America,
to be plucked wriggling out of that shining sea,
a fresh baked humanity, moon-beam buckled.
Pass no more pay-day-loans
into the purses of the pawn-shopping poor,
give no witness nor evidence
of city shame, and house crud.

America, you can do this.
I am a being from across the world
I am from the ***-end of times,
my transformation, a promise of our mutual destiny,
rampant & manifest, our fate falters
let us be unbridled from
both the prideful and the lackluster,
un-arrested and unmolested
by the land grubbing snipes
or the false-fronted back slappers.
We are better than this blare of ourselves,
and if not
we can make a wooden wagon wheel
from all our legendary days,

It’s not too late, wipe your ass America,
wipe your dirty face. the dusty empire is crumbling
yet our first day is not yet done.
I am ready, ready to soar out of a hundred landfills,
a prismatic dodo embossed upon a tarnished coin
my downy head newly scrubbed of old-time blood.

The Land of Milk and Honey

It’s the land of milk and honey,
you fail to see beneath stars and stripes; 
Hard work holds prosperous and free;

The lifestyle seems to come so easy,
lost within stories and stereotypes; 
It’s the land of milk and honey; 

Just getting by is a catastrophe, 
inflation and basic survival snipes;
Hard work holds prosperous and free;

Left coast dreams east coast tyranny, 
always seem to be surrounded by hypes; 
It’s the land of milk and honey; 

Pushing limits is what it was meant to be,
competition gives birth to prototypes;
Hard work holds prosperous and free;

Stay grounded and look carefully,
flooded with media and fancy teletypes;
It’s the land of milk and honey,
hard work holds prosperous and free.

Salty Dogs

Off to the sea in ships we all go,
Untested, but cock sure, as iron to a forge

Deck apes, snipes and gunners are we,
Salt spray, steam and gun smoke to deal

Up early and turning to ‘til late,
While pilfered horse cock, cards and dice await

Down to the bilges and up to the bridge,
Or off to clean the head each day begins

Gunnery drills and damage control,
A well-oiled fightin’ machine we all have become

Man Overboard! Gunner to the bridge,
Seems ole Oscar has taken a dip

A catnap before we take on fuel,
Heavy seas and darkness again to duel

Heave around lads, hand over hand!
Get the rig on deck the bos’n demands

Finally completed and soaked to the skin,
No rack for me, I’ve got the mid

Reveille! Reveille! Up at first light,
Clampdown awaits then I’ll grab a bite

In port tomorrow and liberty awaits,
But first there’s a washdown and lots to paint

All is secured and the Chief’s in good cheer,
So it’s off to the gut for some titties and beer

Back before sunrise no Shore Patrol required,
A run through the rain locker before liberty expires

Breakfast and quarters a new day begins,
I’ll borrow a $20 so I can do it again

Dead Ass Dumb Ass Sorry Ass Fat Ass

Dead Ass Dumb Ass Sorry Ass Fat Ass 
David J Walker

The asinine 
claims 
On this ass of mine 
	Remains a
Mystery to me 

Though perpetually covered 
It’s plain to see
	It’s there

Get off yer Dead Ass
He yelled at me 
as I was  
About to flee with
My dead ass dragging behind

	But Noooo
He reminds me to
Get yer ass over here
As if I were free 
to send it
Without the rest of me

The gripes and snipes 
that my Ass
Was all that was required 
 
So 
     While 
	I was up to my ass
In alligators 

A magnet Meme on the 
Refrigerator reminded me

That Life  Is all about Ass
Either 

•	Kissing or 
•	Kicking or
•	Busting or
•	Dragging or
•	Getting
•	Or Forgetting and or

Or you might be laughing 
It off

Or
It can be both 
Smart or dumb according to
The tenor of the preacher of 
Ass-Lectoring 
All at the same time

I’ve learned a few things about Ass
Like

You can smell like
	You can Sound like
		You can Look like
You can Be like
	Or Treat like 
Or Bray like 
Or Say like
	You can Play like

That It’s alright 
to put all that on 
your sorry ass

Pearly Snipes

Pearly Snipes when they come 
your visions climb ladders 
pearly snipes they are floating in a river 
as thin as gold and tin silver is
cold like a fish wander in its bowl
searching for a soul
floating birds in the thunder roofs pile on
and you walk in your twirling boots
colored with a crayon 
a soft pillow is your hair 
a place to cry on .

Rest In Peace

'Tis fascinating to read epitaphs that upon stones are etched;

Some are rather appealing, some are tragic, others a bit far-fetched!

'Neath this stone lie at peace a husband and his wife
She a Republican-He a Democrat-both now free of strife

Here rests Bruno Snipes the founder of our fair city
He slipped on a banana peel and died-Oh what a pity

Lion trainer Dave was brave and famed
'Til he met Leo who refused to be tamed

Uncle Bob died so young and we wondered why
Seems he tried to drink Canada Dry

The plane's controls Pilot Horace failed to recoup
Alas he spun out doing a double outside loop

Cowpoke Hank should've known as a matter of course
That it was futile to borrow a judge's horse

Here sleeps Senator Claghorn the wiliest politico around
He was so crooked they screwed him in the ground

Here lies the prolific Chief Many Papoose
Who with brave's wives played fancy and loose

She met her doom as over the cliff she did traverse
Instead of shifting to drive she shifted to reverse

Cowboy Pete was so bow-legged from riding his horse
That he lies in a double-wide coffin as a matter of course

Soundbite

serpent
          slithers secretly
                                surveys surroundings
          sibilates spittle

snake skin shines
                         she snipes
savours seeds 


24th September

The Jungle Jamboree

When panthers prowl and lions stalk,
the lone wolves howl and parrots talk.
The bee hives hum and wild boars snort;
the grouses drum; the deer cavort.
And as geese cackle, small hares peek.
They see a jackal, squeal and squeak!

Near streams are snipes where hoot owls hoot.
A nightingale pipes sound of flute.
Frogs croak and play as pigeons moan,
and rhinos bray through beetles’ drone.
Snakes hiss, and apes start gibbering;
no beast escapes this daily fling!

In this clatter, swallows twitter,
magpies chatter; every critter
can join in. Hyenas laugh
while in the din, each tall giraffe
begin to bleat. What reverie
of primal beat - this jamboree!


July 2, 2020 for Brian Strand's 
Strand Completely New(4)Any Theme Any Form Poetry Contest

End a Book

To end a book
On a good look
Should be easy
But I’m smoking
Snipes n such
And it’s too much

Sean Highdale

Sean Highdale

Sean and four friends went out one night, 
To the cinema, ‘cos his mate had just passed, 
His driving test, so they hit upon the height, 
Of the speed limit, but the car sadly crashed. 

Two were killed, one’s still in a coma, Danny, 
Sean suffered a brain injury, bones shattered, 
Today he says:”I can go and see him, [Danny], 
he can't speak…but I can [kiss him]”, captured.  

He was set to play for Liverpool, just his stripes, 
But the Speke Boulevard tragedy stopped that, 
So now he plays football for Great Britain, snipes,  
And made his Para debut at Rio, Brazil to bat.

Eyeful, Handful and Soulful

With stretched brows, while sitting in a corner
I look up from my specs just out of love.
As she lays food on table and stoops lower
Snipes me from grace of her body thereof.
With eyes on her I come there as if drugged
Feeling tickling smell of the hot soup.
Now she puts a sheaf of flowers in a jug
And pours in water pressing it in group.
I see how the necks and cups get entwined
With the curls of her hair and points of crest.
See how at each stalk her waist curves defined 
Budding, abloom in the shape of her breasts.
   Soup and food lay cold and my body warm
   As she swirls and whirls her skirt like a storm. 
                           +++
December 15, 2014
Form: Sonnet (Pentameter)
First Place win
Best of 2014 by Carol Eastman

A Stone In the Cold

Once a marksman was in the woods to hunt
He met a snipe as he was on his way
Snipe said “don’t hunt my kids if you confront 
As they have gone in the forest to play”.

"Alright, But how shall I know they’re your kids?
Tell me something about what they look like?"
"Oh, Marksman, they’re the most beautiful kids!"
Nodding not to shoot them, went on his hike.


On return, a string of young snipes he held
The snipe crying looking at her kids dead.
"Oh, why didn’t you shoot me in my kids’ stead?"
"I’ve shot the ugly I could find instead."

The snipe said “Woe to me, don't you know” fool”
Moms think their children the most beautiful”.

                              +++
March 12, 2014
Dr.Ram Mehta
Form: Sonnet
Third Place Win
Contest:Hunt for a Sonnet Gems & Seven Stones in the Crown by Debbie Guzzi


PS: I had entered this poem on 3/4/14 but I was giving final once over to the poem, I don't know somewhere I clicked and the whole page went blank. So I have reposted it again

Snipe Hunt

Snipes are a kind of bird, difficult to spot
because they’re quiet  and they hide a lot –
a kind of cross ‘twixt stool pigeon and an owl,
it is a bird that deserves to be called fowl.

Maybe a large rooster with antlers like a moose
some guys say they are more like a wild goose.
How do you catch them?  Now that is where you
depend on  luck; my friend hit one with his shoe.

Some make a cage from an old cardboard box
but pillowcases work.  To really outfox
a large snipe, you may need to bring a rope
to tie him up;  if it's real dark, you just hope.

First, you start to hear sounds - like gobblety-gook
and you may start to think that you are a schnook
but hang in there.  Sometimes it takes all night
especially if the snipe puts up a fight.

First time I went, along about one o’clock  
I smelled what I thought was a rat in a crock
quick as a wink, I caught onto a small snipe.
What a night! but I got it, all in one fell swipe.

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