Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Carly Two  Aug 2012
Carly Two Aug 2012
I paused the movie to hear the couple fighting outside.
She said "You haven't talked to me at all tonight!"
and he said "What?"

But I know what they really meant to say was "I get stupid when I see you and I don't know what to do about it."
Then she slapped him and ran back inside crying.
It was an awkward moment for me in someone else's life.

It made me think about the video on how penguins mate forever.
And about how we're not penguins and how monogamy makes promises like traps
And how the only thing we have in common with penguins
is that we give each other rocks
and that means I love you until the sun explodes.

And how?

How come penguins can get it more right than us?
They can't even fly.

And when I watched this kid clutch his face as he wondered what he did wrong,
I can't help but ******* hate
all the happy penguins for him.

You stupid penguins,
you all look like you're going to a fancy party all the time
you stupid penguins
you run like your pants are down
you stupid penguins
you're gonna have someone to sit on the couch with forever
and you can't even fly!

What happens when you realize your penguin lover is immature
and he overeats the fish
and he's always late to things?

What happens when you realize your she-penguin has really bad penguin depression and you don't know how to deal with it?

What happens when you realize you both met too early and now you're different penguins?

I'll tell you what happens.
They stay together.
You know why?
Because he gave her a ROCK.
That's why.
Because, to penguins
rocks mean more than mortgages
and wanting to go to Hawaii
and step children
and sprinklers
and school districts.
They can keep a marriage alive with some instincts
and a ******* egg to sit on.
Stay together longer than 50% of any couple you've ever met

And they can't even fly!

But maybe a bird
that knows how to fall in love better than us
doesn't need to know how to do that.
Copyright C. Heiser, 2012
Julia O'Neary May 2014
I am a penguin, a stupid bird,
That trained her wings to swim
In circles through dark cold waters.
Contrary to popular belief not
All penguins mate for life,
Warm water penguins do,
But emperor penguins only stay
Together for winter and most
Of that time it’s a long distance
Relationship. They use the idea
Of each other to keep warm.
I wonder if emperor penguins
Break up when spring comes,
Or do they simply go their
Separate ways without explanation.
I am a warm water penguin who’s
Found herself in foreign waters.  
Do not fall for emperor penguins
Yes they are tall and beautiful,
But they only need you for winter.
He will call you pretty and say
He misses you, he will see you in
The spring. These words are not for you.
When the sun breaks through
He will not answer your calls.
He will not say goodbye, and you
Will not be able to enjoy the warmth
Because you long for the delusion of winter
Because you worry that you wasted your
One shot at love or rather he did.
Stupid bird, now you know:
You can believe in love at first sight
But there is no guarantee that
Your penguin will love you back.
Dan Oct 2015
99% of Americans don't know
That penguins run the world
That's why they all wear suits
Because world *******
Requires a dress code
Yeah it may look silly
To see a penguin waddle around
But have you ever seen
Black Friday stampedes
And midnight premiere lines

Our penguin overlords are benevolent
If they wanted we'd all be gone
Or forced to work in their egg warming factories
And they keep operations where it's cold
Because they know we like where it's warm
And they keep an eye on us from our zoos

I've been to the zoo in Columbus
I've seen how those penguins watch us
I know they are in control
1% of Americans know
That penguins rule the world
And now that you've read this,
That makes 2%
I'm not sorry for this. I wanted to have some fun and write something silly. Formality is a drag
janessa ann Sep 2018
Penguins waddle so slow.
Ducklings go in a row.
All Duckies say Quack! Quack!
Penguin Mommies' hack hack,
Nutritious Seafood into their Chicks beak,
while those sneaky Ducks be acting so sleek.
Some Ducks might hunt and eat small bass.
Penguins slip and fall on their ***.
Penguins cause us laughter,
and Ducks just aren't the same,
so Ducks are inferior to Penguins.
som how my poems got weirder.
Isaac Ward Jun 2018
Penguins scour beaches,
To pick rocks for their partners,
Prepared to retire together,

If I scour a beach,
To find a rock,
It'll be to beat a *****'s beak in.

See, on the weekend,
My relationship came to a meek end,
I was weak, she was on a bend,

So I bent knee,
Beaten like the beaches,
That penguins seek rocks on,
For their partners.

And maybe it's a reach,
We each leech these ends,
We seek to eat our friends,

But if she wants eaten,
By another guy with a weak pen,
I'm heading to the beach for the weekend.
Nigel Morgan  Sep 2012
Nigel Morgan Sep 2012
After the painting by Henry Stacey Marks*
Lady penguins I am told
Flock together to chat and scold
(usually about their husbands and boy friends).
They always have so much to say
You wonder where they find the time each day
To stand about and nod their beaks,
Flap their flippers, waggle their wings
(such small things - they cannot fly),
Though in the water, my oh my !
They are the greatest swimmers yet,
Gold-medal birds let’s not forget.
It may be gossip on which they thrive
But you should see them swim and dive.
I was in Birmingham's Museum and Art Gallery and came across a large painting of penguins masquerading as Dominican nuns. I bought a postcard of the painting and sent it to two children I know - with this poem inscribed.
Sean Hunt Jun 2019
Poor penguins
and polar bears
no ozone
above them
in the air
Soon in the cold
arctic ocean
They'll be selling the seals
suntan lotion
Lawrence Hall Mar 2019
Poor sailors and poor students parse the past
Between the paper covers of poor Penguins
Poor crumbling pages and crumbling civilizations
Held together with rubber bands and Scotch tape

And when in middle age The City of God
At last succumbs to the barbarians of time
A fresh one is built up in Oxford blue
By Vivian Ridler, who saved for us the words

And yet - the arguments of several Romes
Were somehow fresher at $3.75
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is:
It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.

Lawrence Hall’s vanity publications are available on as Kindle and on bits of dead tree:  The Road to Magdalena, Paleo-Hippies at Work and Play, Lady with a Dead Turtle, Don’t Forget Your Shoes and Grapes, Coffee and a Dead Alligator to Go, and Dispatches from the Colonial Office.
samasati Oct 2013
big sweaters, ghibli, acrylic paint, cafes, knit blankets and unplanned afternoon naps on the couch, gardens, bananas, vanilla almond milk, soft yarn to crochet into ****** scarves, candles after midnight, the big trees with bulky roots, patio furniture, pianos in random buildings, the internet, manatees, the boundless colours of nail polish, peanut butter & honey, rubber boots, pens that write well, fresh new notebooks, skylights, american netflix, mothers that understand, tête à têtes, one glass of sweet white wine, awkward eye contact that turns into comfortable kissing, airplanes, fresh air, baseball caps, the female collective, the really good dark chocolate, flowers, pumpkin spice lattes and ***** chai lattes, candid laughter, yoga, oceans, high waisted shorts, striped t-shirts, docile cats, playful pups, french presses, integrity, sunscreen, meerkats, penguins, chameleons, autumn leaves, fall fashion, ruby woo mac lipstick, osho, dynamic meditation, compassion, siblings, scrambled eggs, smart phones, garageband, metronomes, hot glue guns, quinoa, ferry boats, soft hands, bicycles, real people, fat snowflakes in ample, graceful *******, backpacks that don't hurt your shoulders, hair conditioner, multi-vitamins, soft sand under bare feet, people that own up to lies, clarity, samsara, satori, samasati, visions, echinacea, lavender oil and frankincense, ambrosia apples and ripe avocados, authenticity, Morgan Freeman's voice, good kissers, *******, iced tea on a hot day, curtains, the smell of beeswax, art galleries, hand massages and foot massages, reiki, plums, mild thunderstorms, soccer *****, good surprises, when birds don't **** on your head.
I wrote this with my momma one fine morning!
there is always so much more to add.
Martin Narrod  Apr 2017
Martin Narrod Apr 2017
Me, up on the snow-rock white glacial cliff hedges mountaineering my way in the moments-after-twilight-sweeping-black. Execrable cold, a death-making quiet, Not a seal, not a hare - this Earth of gelid death. I climbed out above the snow Where my expiration left sinuous brandings in the copper light. But the Weddell was siphoning the darkness to the katabatic deep valleys - piceous lees of the brightening umber - cleaving the moon in two like the split eye of a winter lynx. And I saw the penguins: Little specks of black in the limitless white - fifty together - obelisk-still. Their inaudible coo, they sat motionless, nearly mute, With creamsicle feet and amber-eyes, incomparably mum. I proceeded: not one chirped or swiveled its little fur cap. Black silent fragments of a black silent world. I hearkened in the barrens of the desiccate plains. While the wooly bears came from the sea to see of the silence. Slowly edges oozed out of the darkness. Then the moon ivory, porcelain, azure erupted Quietly, and halving to its heart and shot mist, shaking and the ocean opened, crying blue, And the giant mountains lunged-. I stopped Scrambling, as if up from my voice at the mouth of a nightmare, down towards the snow-rock, from their glacial sheaths, And came the penguins. There stood they, still-, silent, in the river of blue light: Creamsicle feet and amber-eyed Thwacking the ice in a grand fête While everywhere was gray and rimy. And still they did not speak above a breath, Not one squeeked or cawed, Their nestled shining beaks dug into the polar rim, Low into the valleys, in the blue shimmering rays - In throngs of the congested cities, living among the years, the faces, May I some day greet my memory in such solemn a world Into the estuaries and the azure-skies, curious wooly bears, Listening as the ice tholes.

— The End —