Squirrels With Tales
Skunks who bunk,
And break bread all together.
Stink and stank
As they stunk crunching feathers...
With pigeons who had their wings snipped
And tethered inside coops,
That lock!
Mocking with shocking degrading deception!
Smelling themselves to detect imperfections.
Finally they find they have not been perceptive...
To the ones who flock!
Watching...
Squirrels with tales who dropp their nuts,
From treetops!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
You Lie...And Yo Breath Stank
You lie and yo breath stank you lie and yo breath stank
Save your time don't give me that speech
And use that time to go brush your teeth
A good mouthwash would be a start
Cause your breath done smell like your mouth done a fart
You lie and yo breath stank
So bad it makes it hard to think
You lie and yo breath stank
Smells just like it's a septic tank
You lie and yo breath stank you lie and yo breath stank
Damn homeboy won't you chew on some gum
You smell like a mixture of chili dogs and rum
Don't be cheap and juts chew on a stick
Throw in the whole pack and chew on it quick
You lie and yo breath stank
So bad it makes it hard to think
You lie and yo breath stank
Rolls me over like a Sherman tank
You lie and yo breath stank you lie and yo breath stank
Open your mouth the whole room stunk
You need a chisel to hammer off the funk
Your breath would turn a shirt into lint
So do us all a favor and suck on a mint
You lie and yo breath stank you lie and yo breath stank
Open your mouth just another lie
What's that smell did somethin' die
A funky kind of stank that makes you go phew
Took a wiff straight out it was coming from you
You lie and yo breath stank
So bad it makes it hard to thank
You lie and yo breath stank
So bad damn your breath is rank
Damn yo breath stank
song performed by by Infectious Grooves
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poet's Song
Dropp’d feather from the wings of God
My little songs and snatches are,
So light He does not hear them fall
As He goes by, from star to star.
Dropp’d feathers from the wings of God
I find, and braid them in my hair;
Men heed them not--they only make
My soul unto herself more fair.
poem by Karle Wilson Baker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poisoning Pigeons In The Park
Planned it all out mate,
put these pigeons through sore straights.
Should teach them a lesson or two,
of where to dropp their doo.
Planned it all out mate,
put it in the bread crate,
took it to the park and fed,
all the pigeons till they were dead.
'Tis our favourite pass time,
my honey and I.
I'll not take it for such a crime,
they're pigeons after all, who'll cry?
Gave 'em a little bit of cyanide,
and threw some mercury in for good measure,
maybe people will think it suicide,
or view their deaths as a great pleasure.
poem by Soren Valentine
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Lavender
while we are too busy
acting all tidy
flawless.
they drag along with them
the stink of a society
that has forgotten
what it is to stink.
they pick up
we dropp down.
hunching their backs to the dirt of culture
cleaning up after the remains
of our consumed pleasures.
we dropp down
they pick up.
they used to be merely grown men
that once towered
over gazes infant
until someone pointed to them
and we learned how to divide.
we dropp down
we dropp down.
yet every so often we will wonder;
soaked in lavender
scentless.
poem by Chris Jelens
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Don't You Have Something Else To Do?
Okay.
I'll pretend I am curious.
Why are you peering over your fence,
With binoculars?
It is obvious what you are doing.
And those neighbors have moved.
'You don't know everything.
I happen to be observing,
The activities of rare squirrels.
Grey in color and munching on pine nuts.
And...
I am not looking at 'that' house at all.
Okay?
Nosey.'
I see.
And...
Would they happen to be sitting,
Eating dinner...
In the living room of our other neighbors,
Living across the street...
Who invited their friends over?
Because those 'rare' squirrels,
Should be eating their nuts in the trees.
Shouldn't they?
'They just ran behind that house.
Don't you have something else to do?
Besides spy on me.
Ssssshhh.
Someone's getting a divorce.'
Oh?
Since you're into reading lips.
What else are those 'squirrels' discussing?
'You need to learn how to mind your own business.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pigeons Cooing When They Do
Pigeons cooing when they do,
A cooing begun.
As they strut after flying...
Or sit and stare with a sitting done.
They seem to fly around in packs,
To peck and pick in shifts.
Until someone begins to eat,
A delicious 'anything' pigeons seek...
With probing beaks.
Then other pigeons dropp in flocks,
From places suspicious.
While peacocking around,
Scouting out for something dished.
Like some popcorn or peanuts.
Or crumbs from crackers and/or bread.
To feed in a cooing...
As if a drooling done is did.
They seem to fly around in packs,
To peck and pick in shifts.
Until someone begins to eat,
A delicious 'anything' pigeons seek...
With probing beaks.
Pigeons cooing when they do,
A cooing begun.
As they strut after flying...
Or sit and stare with a sitting done.
Then other pigeons dropp in flocks,
From places suspicious.
While peacocking around,
Scouting out for something dished.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Who Run The World? Squirrels!
World run by squirrels?
Humans will be in perils.
If squirrels run the world
Let's see what will unfurl.
The world will fill with nuts.
Walnuts, pine and peanuts.
Management geta the walnuts.
Middle class gets the pine nuts
That leaves the rest peanuts!
Tired of Nuts
If by birth I was a squirrel
With dreams someday I'd speak.
I would not spend time
Jumping from tree to tree
Or staring at birds searching worms
Pecked from the ground and pulled with beaks.
I'd gather all my nuts to munch,
And practice vowels from a branch...
'A-E-I-O-U' I'd do,
Adopting fresh skills to enhance!
And I would do this out loud, of course...
To keep stunned squirrels aware,
I had heights I wanted to achieve
And sights other than nuts to bite...
Before the season dropped their leaves from trees!
And visions of speeches,
To prepare and teach...
More squirrels I knew who grew tired of nuts,
Too close without a challenge to reach.
And 'that' I would suspect from a hunch!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Coventry Squirrels
Near Coventry Cathedral, upon the green,
A group of grey squirrels can often be seen.
Squirrel food can be bought from the gift shop,
Where many of the City’s tourists do often stop.
The squirrels there are amazingly tame,
And seem to enjoy their relative fame.
Up and down the tall trees, they race;
Dashing around at an incredible pace.
When they spot a tourist walk along the path,
To them, it could mean food – they’re not daft!
Up in the trees or on the ground, they keep an eye,
On all of the people who are passing by.
When someone stops and looks their way.
They run on over to them, totally unafraid.
For food, they are always on the scrounge,
And luckily, for them, there’s plenty around.
I feel slightly unnerved if they come too near.
Inside, I begin to feel a slight sense of fear.
I saw on You Tube, a surprising video online,
Where, up someone’s leg, a squirrel did climb!
Watching the squirrels, I really do adore,
And always want to stay a few minutes more.
Watching them all, really does make my day,
And I find it incredibly hard to tear myself away.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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At Ward 15....
so after having known that X is the prodigy
who once hails from Ward 15
you finally decide that you don't want to be one
like us....
did you ever think that i could be one who
pretends to tell you the truth
that creativity also demands the folly of the fox
the slyness of the wolf
the meekness of the dove?
did you ever reflect yourself like a mirror under the bed
capturing light from the leak of the wall
inside that house where a wife screams at the husband
when the husband finally strikes the head of
the woman with his fists?
there are no more standards of what we can be
there are only unfinished paths
and we are here called upon to build them
to try at least one and follow where we cut the stems of trees
the tallness of grasses
the sharpness of the thorns
the bleakness of the beaks of our days
the way how our bodies grown feathers and wings
and when we fly
higher than you think will you ask again if you still be
one of us?
when we are on top
we do not brag about it
it is usual and expected
because you cannot follow
when it is dark
because you do not know how to
absorb light
because you cannot detect which
place is warmer
and viable as the resting place
of our beautiful souls....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hiding With A Squab
'Have you run out of luck? '
Said the goose who left a flock of geese,
On an approach...
To what was thought,
To be a sitting duck plucked.
~No not at all.~
Replied a nearby pigeon,
Practicing ventriloquism...
And hiding with a squab,
Of witnessing young pigeons.
~My family and I,
Have grown tired of berries, popcorn and nuts.
And we decided to use a decoy,
To see what showed up.
But to my surprise,
A nosey goose has arrived.
Strutting with a pulchritude...
To annoy a duck...
My uncle disguised.
Telling me that I had talents,
The family thought could be put to better use.
And here you come strutting...
Believing a plucked duck has run out of luck,
When tonight a family of pigeons....
Are going to feast on cooked goose.
Something to feed the younger pigeons,
To lift them with an ego boost!
Get 'em boys! ~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wingless Angel's Happier
angels
with wings
with the most graceful smile
but could it be just for
fulfiling their place
in fairy tales, n a prince
in search for a princess
he thought angel
bad time it could be
o' wingless angel'
where r u when your
prince about to break down
won't your wings spread once more
would you let your heart break apart
or would you let your tears drain out
had you think of him, you're already inside
the core of his heart
had he ever penetrate your feelings
well, fine
just sit back and watch him fall of cliff
of sadness or let him fall to your lap
and that could be the reason
for the whisper of the hidden part
of fairy tales, wingless angel's happier
Restlessness In Stillness....
....because i am discontented
here i am making it my own way, because no one remembers
here i am remembering me,
because.....
no one satisfies my hunger and thirst here i go
trekking my way
into everywhere, and tired, and
disappointed, here i am
making a set of wings for me,
these wings without the feathers of a bird,
these wings without need of
a wind,
because i feel so alone, here i am, inventing
company,
i give birth to words, and sentences
myself with
all its punishments,
this newly found joy in the prison of my thoughts
in the vast expanse
universe of my endless and
limitless imagination
this self without a river
this river without water and stones
this floating
existence
an angel without a wing
because i am never appeased
here i am exploding my own firecracker
a boy driving his demons away
with the use of one finger
because i have more to say
in this fear
here i am unceasingly writing
who knows if i finally find you and then
i can absolve myself and after telling everything
i can finally find
my own resting place
here i am, silent and still and staring.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Stare
a stare is like a stair
it has steps
and there are feet
walking,
and leaving,
you stare at me,
and i see stairs, where you walk
and climb and stop at the middle
and then take the stairs layer by layer
that is what you like to do, to look at me
as though i am this room where you build the stairs
and you want to go inside my room and lock me up
and take all of me with your tongue and hands and
mouth. You mouth me. And i receive the life you have.
and then your stare subsides. the stair is gone.
the room vanishes. I am free. And you are inside me
your stare has become the memory lingering inside me.
i become a bird and you are inside my wings.
Your stairs become my feathers. Your stare
becomes my eyes.
in love, we make the stairs leading to a house.
and there we feast, and live and sleep.
yes, there are wings and windows.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Party-Lad
You are perceptive, so sensitive to light,
That it endangers your being and makes calamity.
Exciting and smelling of jeopardy,
The night will be seen as dancing of two nights.
The blackout lasted so bright with aromas and festivity,
Aware were the hungry hundred diners,
In the night so perceptive, and sensuous with food.
I have eaten on nights that climb light,
Yet eyes suddenly vanish from the scene.
Be on the days, be on the nights,
Like an endangered man of gate-crashing.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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New To The Neighborhood
I know you are new to the neighborhood.
And with that said...
I would caution you not to make any attempts,
To treat the other squirrels you see around here...
With respect or hints of it.
Since...
If you permit yourself to do that...
You just might find your nuts cracked.
'That's fine with me.
Isn't that the purpose?
I would consider that a neighborly act of unity.
And if I may admit this...
Sometimes it would be nice to sit and relax.
Knowing that another squirrel would do that for me.
And I didn't have to scratch any squirrel's back,
To keep my own nuts protected.'
Yeah...
You're new.
You've taken my comments...
Too far out on branches dislocated from the trees.
You must be a rehabilitated nut crusher?
Have you just been released,
From those Scotch Pines behind the Maples?
'No!
I'm a realist.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sometimes in politics one must duel with skunks, but no one should be fool enough to allow skunks to choose the weapons.
quote by Joseph Cannon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sometimes in politics one must duel with skunks, but no one should be fool enough to allow the skunks to choose the weapons.
quote by Lester R Bittel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If I Had Wings
Open inside something about this pain
Theres something about this sweet refrain
Reminds me that youre not there
And if I could care theres something about this curse
Like a needle inside a silken purse
Reminds me of all that youd bring
If I had wings
Im still standing
Blue mountain high
Only the fables get to fly
Without these words theres no reason why
It reminds me of all that you bring
If I had wings
Would like to teach myself
If I had wings
Would learn to stir myself
If I had wings
Strapped inside wont be denied
Nightmare brings
All that you said
And if I could fly
Long time saviour
Thats the sinners crime
Well without such trust
I know that I can never find
Never find - never find - never find
If I had wings
If I had wings
Im still standing
Never find - never find - never find
Open inside something about this pain
Theres something about this sweet refrain
Reminds me that youre not there
And if I could care theres something about this curse
Like a needle inside a silken purse
Reminds me of all that youd bring
If I had wings
If I had wings
If I had wings
If I had wings
Written by : kerr/burchill reproduced without permission
song performed by by Simple Minds
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Okaerinasai
this is the stranger
dusty face and muddy
feet
caulked
he still holds the key
to the old room
his room
opens it
he was away for months
his dog is dead
inside the bathroom
the whole house
stinks
all lines are cut off
it is dark
he arrives at night
dogs are howling
the trees have no leaves
the winds are cold
the path is
grassy and wild
the squirrels left
when he arrives
nuts
the rats stand at
the door watching
his every move
there is a mirror
at the veranda
at the side of the
door
it is hazy
it could be me
in this
horrible
thought
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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