Looking For Trade Martin's Ferret
From Alaska to Zanzibar the poets are out
They’re searching and hunting and looking about
The hunt is on, the call is being shouted out loud
The poets well versed are searching all round
In cupboards and sheds and holes in the ground
They’ll keep searching until that ferret is found.
They scramble about like mouse hunting cats
Reciting some prose in case ferrets like that
They’ve heard many stories of ferrets abound
And even up legs of trousers are found
Those furry mammals with teeth oh so bright
That when they are bared they give quite a fright.
The poets are hunting high up and low down
And when they have found him they’ll call you around
And while they are waiting they’ll play for a while
With the ferret you’ve lost since the end of last year
And gave herald to a ferretless and lonely new dawn
Since the day TM celebrated that Christ was past born.
poem by David Taylor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Midnight At The Lost And Found
Hey Ricky, now mine is empty
How about one for you
We could set it out together
Seems tomorrow's overdue
Captain Video, done went home
One pilot laid to rest
And dragon ladies talk that talk
About who loves who - who loves best
Silver bullets in the jukebox
Spin another round
Everybody at the back of the line
It's midnight at the lost and found
Midnight at the lost and found
Lost souls in the hunting ground
A remedy for all your ills
At the lost and found
Midnight at the lost and found
Midnight...
Have a double it's gettin' late
You'll get home home, just rely on fate
Place just finally came alive
Good old boys just arrived
Stools keep changin' faces
And the night just slips away
And like a long distance love affair
Soon you've got to pay
Silver bullets in the jukebox
Spin another round
Everybody at the back of the line
It's midnight at the lost and found
Midnight at the lost and found
Lost souls in the hunting ground
A remedy for all your ills
At the lost and found
Midnight at the lost and found
Midnight...
Hangin' on barely, hitch a ride away
Belly up and bury, boy, all the hurt you feel today
Hangin' on barely, hitch a ride away
Belly up and bury, boy, all the hurt you feel today
Silver bullets in the jukebox
Spin another round
Everybody get back in line
Last call for the lost and found
Midnight at the lost and found
Lost souls in the hunting ground
A remedy for all your ills
At the lost and found
Midnight at the lost and found
Lost souls in the hunting ground
A remedy for all your ills
At the lost and found
Midnight at the lost and found
Lost souls in the hunting ground
A remedy for all your ills
At the lost and found
Midnight at the lost and found
Lost souls in the hunting ground
A remedy for all your ills
At the lost and found
(Midnight ...
Midnight ...
Midnight ...
Midnight ...
Midnight ...
Midnight ...
Midnight ...
Midnight
song performed by by Meat Loaf
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hunting or Fishing?
Hunting or fishing – which is better?
That is what I am thinking about!
In business many hunt for customers;
Some men prefer casting net to catch fish!
Even for poets the position is the same
In poetry websites to catch readers!
Some lay wise traps to catch readers!
I use fishing rod with a needle and bait
To catch readers who can understand!
Whether the rank is high or low it is
Immaterial but the true comment is!
Hunting readers to comment and rank
Or fishing readers to comment and rank
Are not really going to enhance one’s status;
For, voluntary comments are indeed valuable!
Poets are jealous to appreciate others’ merit
But some poets raise the status of others!
So, letters to such poets increase sans end!
This is the status of poetry websites now!
So, it is left to you to hunt or fish or lay trap
As you wish to catch readers for rank, etc.!
poem by Ramesh T A
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Searching
I'm searching for something
Something I've already found
But not knowing that I've found it
Not even sure what it is that I've found
I'm not sure it's my soul that can't find it
Or my senses that seem to block my mind
From finding what I'm searching for that
I've already found
Or is it the heart that I can't trust to help me
Find my way to this thing I have found but don't know
I've found it
Is it the barrier we all have to come across?
That we will find but never know that we have found it
Or is it my lonesome imagination
trying to play tricks on me
I guess this is just one more thing
I have to deal with today
I know I'll always be searching
for something I've already found
And it will always be searching
for me but it has already found me
I know this thing I'm searching for
has and will change my life for the better
For I hold it very dear to me but don't know I do
And it holds me dear to it but
dose not know it holds me dear
I will always be within it
It will always be within me
We are part of each other
Pieces of a puzzle
The stars in the map of stars
Two wings of a butterfly
But what could it be that I'm searching for
Dose it think about me
Dose it wonder about who I am
Is it just as confused about me
as I am about it
as we lay on the blanket under the stars silently thinking
you turn on your side put your hand around me
then say so sweetly
so passionately
I'm so glad I found you baby
I've been looking for you for a life time
I love you and always will
for you are the only thing I’ve been
searching for
poem by Mrs. Cynosure
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Forest Greeting
GOOD hunting! — aye, good hunting,
Wherever the forests call;
But ever a heart beats hot with fear,
And what of the birds that fall?
Good hunting! — aye, good hunting,
Wherever the north winds blow;
But what of the stag that calls for his mate?
And what of the wounded doe?
Good hunting! — aye, good hunting,
And ah! we are bold and strong;
But our triumph call through the forest hall
Is a brother's funeral song.
For we are brothers ever,
Panther and bird and bear;
Man and the weakest that fear his face,
Born to the nest or lair.
Yes, brothers, and who shall judge us?
Hunters and game are we;
But who gave the right for me to smite?
Who boasts when he smiteth me?
Good hunting! — aye, good hunting,
And dim is the forest track;
But the sportsman Death comes striding on:
Brothers, the way is black.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hunting High And Low
Typed by [email protected]
Hunting High and Low:
Here I am
And within the reach of my hand
She's sound asleep
And she's sweeter now
Than the wildest dream
Could have seen her
And I watch her slipping away
But I know I'll be
Hunting high and low
Ah there's no end
To the lengths I'll go to
Hunting high and low
Ah there's no end
To the lengths I'll go
To find her again
Upon this my dreams are depending
Through the dark
I sense the pounding of her heart
Next to mine
She's the sweetest love
I could find
So I guess I'll be
Hunting high and low
Ah, there's no end
To lengths I'll go to
High and low
Ah, do you know what it means
To love you
I'm hunting high and low
And now she's telling me
She's got to go away
I'll always be hunting high and low
Only for you (And now she's telling me)
Watch me tearing myself to pieces
Hunting high and low
Ah, there's no end
To lengths I'll go to
For you I'll be hunting high and low
song performed by by A-Ha
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Shot
There was a shot,
A shot fleeing through the dark night,
And all around was still
For fear of being found
As it whistled past the widows
Of every man, woman, child.
Searching.
Looking to rip and tear and kill,
And penetrate
The innocent flesh
Of any being, anywhere at all
There was a shot,
The sound came cracking through my dreams,
Impersonal and deadly
And hunting for the flesh
Of anyone who ever felt
Who ever laughed and sang,
Hunting,
Getting ready for the kill.
I will not let them die,
The ones who,
When the time comes,
Will live and love and grow.
I step out into the treacle night
And the bullet thuds home.
poem by Clover West
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In Search Of A Man
I am searching a man
I am in search of a man
And here there is no man.
Village town state
Land water sky
I search out and out
and not found.
Found the dog the cow
The crow the camel
The tiger the snake
No man said Jackal.
I am still searching
Still searching seaching.
I am in search of a man
I am searching a man.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In The Midst Of Nowhere
i am in the midst of nowhere
lost
hunting what it is to be found
empty
searching for the right soul to love
lonely
i am in the midst of nowhere
gone
my imagination's haunting me
terrified
he's protecting me not
alone
i am in the midst of nowhere
smiling
sparkling emerald and sapphire crystal dews touch my skin
relieved
i'm refreshed in the midst of nowhere
poem by Shelomith Noarbe
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poem From The Past
Both Poets and Writers of the past
Had a tendency to come from a privelaged class
Who used their education to write magnificent prose
They used old familly money
To publish to the gentry
In a time
When the common working man
Whos heart was full of rhyme
Held them all inside
A prisoner of his time
Now all his thoughts
Are 6 feet under ground
And for that simple reason, the greatest poets never been found
So for those of education
And snobbery abound
One day your thoughts and words
Will be burried underground
poem by Kevin Campbell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hunting High & Low
Here I am
And within the reach of my hands
Shes sound asleep and shes sweeter now
Than thewildest dream could have seen her
And I watch her slipping away
Though I know Ill be hunting high and low
High
Theres no end to the the lengths Ill go to
Hunting high and low
High
Theres no end to the the lengths Ill go to
To find her again
Upon this my dreams are depending
Through the dark
I sense the pounding of her heart
Next to mine
Shes the sweetest love I could find
So I guess Ill be hunting high and low
High
Theres no end to the lengths Ill go to
High and low
High
Do you know what it means to love you
Im hunting high and low
And now shes telling me shes got to go away
Ill always be hunting high and low
Hungry for you
Watch me tearing myself to pieces
Hunting high and low
High
Theres no end to the lengths Ill go to
Oh! for you Ill be hunting high and low
song performed by by A-Ha
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Broken
I'm A Lonely Road Of
Broken Dreams
Its A Boulevard That
I'm Searching For
These Stars Are All
So Dull
Its The Moon That I'm
Searching For
Happiness Is So Angry
At Me
Its Life That I'm
Searching For
There Is A Crowd
Around Me At All Times
Its a Friend That I'm
Searching For
My Life Is Just Like
Path
Its A Destination That
I'm Searching For
Don't Know What Is It
That I've Lost
May Be Its 'ME' That
I'm Searching For! !
poem by Vizard Dhawan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wild F*#$ing Manners
hunting a tiger
big sharp teeth
man-eater
these hunters
big egos, big guns
hunting for survival
need fur and meat to survive
hunting wild game
wild f*#$ing manners
saw lioness and her cubs
on f*#$ing youtube
wild animals is to game theory
as man is to war
primitive yet perfect in movements
stop hunting these majestic creatures
they echo the intelligence we lack
in a far away land called our sub-conscience
only to find our only way to organized life
we're just animals on a hunting ground
poem by Inner Projection
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Scary Monster
Scary monster are walking down the streets of Dubling and searching the Pipes for mouse
But for now there are no mouse to be found
And the scary monster try also to get in into people's garage in Dublin And there the scary monters finds a few mouse to eat
But now the hunting started and the scary monster haunted every mouse that was in the people's garage in Dubling
Also the scary monster was satisfied with his dinner
poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Good Poets and Bad Poets
Some poets get awards and think they are good poets.
Some poets never get awards and think they are bad poets.
Some poets think they are good poets only in their own mind
Some poets think they are bad poets in somebody's else mind.
Some poets think they are good poets in somebody else mind.
Some poets think others think they are good poets but they don't in their hearts.
Some poets think they are good poets in their hearts but not in anyone else's mind.
All are insecure, except those who get security from the opinions of others and that, alas, doesn't last and isn't real.
Some poets have left the entire scene and live only in their mind.
Some poets take criticism and don't mind.
Some poets avoid criticism and do mind.
Some poets write poetry to get love.
Some poets love to write poetry.
Some poets are ahead of their time, in their mind
Some poets spend a lifetime feeling like failures in their mind
Some poets live only after they die.
Some poets have much to say but can't articulate
Some poets retreat, believing others don't understand
So which one of these am I?
I guess I am all of these and none of these
and no matter what my description
I intend to keep doing what I do:
Write. Right
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hunters Lullaby
Your fathers gone a-hunting
Hes deep in the forest so wild
And he cannot take his wife with him
He cannot take his child
Your fathers gone a-hunting
In the quicksand and the clay
And a woman cannot follow him
Although she knows the way
Your fathers gone a-hunting
Through the silver and the glass
Where only greed can enter
But spirit, spirit cannot pass
Your fathers gone a-hunting
For the beast well never cannot bind
And he leaves a baby sleeping
And his blessings all behind
Your fathers gone a-hunting
And hes lost his lucky charm
And hes lost the guardian heart
That keeps the hunter from the harm
Your fathers gone a-hunting
He asked me to say goodbye
And he warned me not to stop him
I wouldnt, I wouldnt even try
song performed by by Leonard Cohen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cat Mouse Space Games
on earth many a mouse
hunting prey cheese
is swift mousetrap caught
in space the moon
is the night mouse
the earth hunting cat
earth waits huge mouth open
huge feline fangs teeth showing
waiting to swallow whole mouse
a natural ending to cat mouse games
base animals space wars old habits
space quarantine grounds earth minds
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In the world of poetry there are would-be poets, workshop poets, promising poets, lovesick poets, university poets, and a few real poets.
quote by James Broughton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Still Searching
Im a drifter who has lost his way
And Im still searching for my dream
A wandering nomad with no home to stay
Just like a gypsy or a refugee
Lookin at another sign for another town
Wondering if Im ever gonna settle down
Or am I gonna keep on searchin till my dying day
Chorus:
Still searching, still searching, still lookin, all alone
Till I find myself a home
Still searching, still searching, just like a rolling stone
Destination still unknown
When all my energy starts letting me down
I get this feeling Ill be still wandering round
Still searching, still workin, still lookin
Until I find a way
This world is full of restless souls
Sleeping rough and living day to day
Drifters who left families wondering why they went away
Perhaps thats how I wanna be
While Im looking for some peace of mind
How can I find security?
A restless spirit who cant reach his goal
Cant find a home until Ive found my soul
Still hitchin rides and lookin for a place to go
Chorus
Still searching, still searching, still searching
Until my dying day, oh yeah
Why? yeah
Surprise, surprise
Still searching, still workin, still lookin
Until I find my way
Im a drifter who has lost his way
And Im still searching for my dream
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Muse, I salute you ……
So far, so long I was a lonely goat
Walking up the mountain path
With no shepherd to guard
Or ram to lead I walked
Making my own path
A crowd is there waiting
Wanting my advice
But, for me it is a lonely life
No Muse, I had for me
Other than experiences
Some bitter some sweet
But, all my own – Then
One day I strayed into a meadow
Where the sky is blue
And the grass is green
All because I found others too
Like me searching for an outlet
Come to the cooling stream
Called Desi Directory
There I found many to call a friend.
Among them a guiding star, a sage
Whose very words gave me strength
Whose thoughts provoke, inspire
And leave me speechless, awestruck
And Whom I took courage to call
My Master, Mentor and my Muse!
poem by Angelina Pandian
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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0005 Totally Boring Poem
I’m totally bored by:
poems that sound like other poems
poems that try to sound unlike any other poems
poets who never take risks
poets who think that taking risks
makes them good poets
poems with 'meaning'
poems with no meaning
poets who slag off other poets
as if that achieves something
poets that tell you that rhyme
is not for an age but for all time
poets that tell you that rhyme is outmoded and boring
poets who think that the poetry of 'the past'
is greater than that of 'the present'
poets who think that the poetry of 'the present'
is greater than that of 'the past'
poems that tell you the poet's the first to discover sex
poets that tell you they’re the best sex you’ll ever have
although you’ll never meet them to find out
poets that tell you they’ve been dumped
poets who've never known love and being dumped
poets who are ambitious
poets who are unambitious
poets who tell you all about higher things
poets who reject higher things
poets who think life’s just a joke
poets who think life’s no joke
poets who sit on the fence
poets who have no sense of balance
poets who despise 'the middle ground'
poets who talk about technique
poets with no technique
poets who just throw down their thoughts
poets who 'work up' their poems to a self-satisfied polish
poets who list what they like (who cares?)
poets who list what don’t like (who cares?)
poets who write about extreme states
poets who think they’re immune to extreme states
poets who tell you why they’re bored
poets who have opinions
poets who seem to have no opinions at all
poets who have boring opinions to air - why choose poetry?
poets who comment on others' poems
as if it's the last word
poets who never bother to comment
on others' poems
poets who don't love poetry passionately
poets who tell you they 'love poetry passionately'
poets who – oh I’m too bored to go on reading this,
how about you?
I suppose you have boring opinions too?
another time perhaps
and oh yes I'm most of all bored by
those who waste their precious time on this earth
being bored
well I feel better for that.
how about you?
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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