"igloo" poems
[Chorus:]
I make ******* insecure
Ah, I make ******* insecure
I make bitches's insecure
It not my fault that I rock you ****** world [x2]
[Verse 1]
Hold up let me catch my breath
Why you hoes jockin on me here gettin bread
Pockets stay fat like I just won the menu
Couldn't catch it open if I had no [?] click
He neva met a ***** like me
And he knew he couldn't have me
So he told his ***** to get like me
Miss pinky I'm rockin ****** world
Call me bird cause I can **** on any nighaa and his girl
Yea I'm cocky and ***** I got a reason
Name one chick set trends all season
Stay on my grind, cause you know yo girl the ****
And I'm not like cream, but I can get yo nigha wet
Everywhere I go I'm the center of attention,
****** tryna show off and get my attention
Did I mention
They call me miss distraction,
Cause I can split a ***** from his ***** like a fraction
[Chorus]
[verse 2]
Throw me my mic, no need for an intro
Falen don't act like you don't know
I mess it up stay jerkin, everyone must stare
My steeze so hot it can straighten your hair
Comin through like a raven,
My jerkin videos, stay on dudes pages
I'm that bomb nigha I'm nuclear
Don't call me
I'm like solar we stand out yea
***** we bright, skinny jeans
Yea ***** we tight yup yup that's right
So complex have the crowd restless
While I'm yellin out we the baddest (we the baddest)
No love honey
Slap ****** and take they money
I'm money hungry
**** so lovely
Flirt so EFF, ingggg DOPE .! !
[Chorus]
[Verse 3]
***** *** ******* wanna talk ****
Cause I'm that *****
And don't call me a bad *****
Call me a average *****
I'm badder
I more than
You hoes be lacking
It's like I'm the teacher when I be rappin
My flow so sick, when I'm done they start clappin
I put a bullet through your chest
***** they up on me tryna **** with it
Tryna get up in my ******* like I'm some kinda hoochie
Don't **** a ***** ***** cause they all boogie boogie
Yea and I'm 2 fly To **** with you
No I'm 3 fly everbody know me know
Yea an I'm so fly they be on me, on me.
[Chorus]
[Verse 4]
Money money money
Thats all I wrote
I stay on top
Your the water I'm the boat
Alway a **** and never a ***
I stay with mo plus ****** plus dough
Young in the game but I ain't a little girl
It jus take ten nigaas to rock my world
Rock rock my world, yea rock my world
So, I want you you you plus you
Plus the boy back there lookin cute in the blue
(You kinda cute)
People hate me cause they can't do what I do
Mean muggin I laugh at you
I took you man then stole yo boo
Blah blah it's true
Heart so cold like a freakin igloo
Got all these nighas like boo hoo
And on these tracks I go cookoo
Nov 22, 2013
Nov 22, 2013 at 1:16 PM UTC
Advice from Freuchen , the explorer
When Arctic blizzards blow
in Northern Greenland
and your supplies are low
and dwindling
the best advice is build an igloo
and wait out the storm.
And when you hear the wolves
howling with hunger
and prowling on your igloo roof
it’s best to go outside
and sing - only occasionally
though you will fight to be heard
above the judder of the wind.
Inside the igloo will be problematic
the walls seem to close in
as claustrophobic days proceed
it’s not an illusion
but a fact
each breath freezes moisture in the walls
and breath by breath they thicken
spaces close around your body
breathing yourself in a coffin of ice.
There’s no instrument of death
devised by man to so terrify
as being locked in space and time
each breath reminding you
of that closeness to that final loss
of breath and an icy Arctic death.
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 10:53 AM UTC
There are three versions of this poem. only one of them is available on the internet. This first version is from the New Yorker in a 1941 issue. It is the earliest version and the one that is quoted all over the internet.
To My Valentine
by Ogden Nash (1902-1971)
More than a catbird hates a cat,
Or a criminal hates a clue,
Or the Axis hates the United States,
That's how much I love you.
I love you more than a duck can swim,
And more than a grapefruit squirts,
I love you more than gin rummy is a bore,
And more than a toothache hurts.
As a shipwrecked sailor hates the sea,
Or a juggler hates a shove,
As a hostess detests unexpected guests,
That's how much you I love.
I love you more than a wasp can sting,
And more than the subway jerks,
I love you as much as a beggar needs a crutch,
And more than a hangnail irks.
I swear to you by the stars above,
And below, if such there be,
As the High Court loathes perjurious oaths,
That's how you're loved by me.
The next version is the lyric of a song from the Broadway musical "One Touch of Venus" (1943) by Ogden Nash, J S Perelman and Kurt Weill. Nash wrote this lyric. It is not on the internet that I could find. I got it from the sheet music.
HOW MUCH I LOVE YOU
More than a catbird hates a cat,
Or a criminal hates a clue,
Or the Axis hates the United States,
That's how much I love you.
As a sailor's sweetheart hates the sea,
Or a juggler hates a shove,
As a wife detests unexpected guests,
That's how much you I love.
I love you more than a wasp can sting,
And more than a hangnail hurts.
I love you more than commercials are a bore,
And more than a grapefruit squirts.
I swear to you by the stars above,
And below, if such there be,
As a bride would resent a blessed event,
That's how you are loved by me.
More than a waitress hates to wait ,
Or a lioness hates the zoo,
Or a batter dislikes those called third strikes,
That's how much I love you.
As much as a lifeguard hates to swim,
Or a writer hates to read,
As Hays office frowns on low cut gowns,
That's how much you I need.
I love you more than a hive can itch,
And more than a chilblain chills.
I yearn for you in an ivy clad igloo,
As a liver yearns for pills.
I swear to you by the stars above,
And below, if such there be,
As a dachshund abhors revolving doors,
That's how you are loved by me.
The third is from the book "Marriage Lines: notes of a student husband" It was published in 1964 and contains a revised version of the poem with a much different ending. This too is not on the internet. I got it from the book.
TO MY VALENTINE
More than a catbird hates a cat,
Or a criminal hates a clue,
Or an odalisque hates the Sultan's mates,
That's how much I love you.
I love you more than a duck can swim,
And more than a grapefruit squirts,
I love you more than commercials are a bore,
And more than a toothache hurts.
As a shipwrecked sailor hates the sea,
Or a juggler hates a shove,
As a hostess detests unexpected guests,
That's how much you I love.
I love you more than a wasp can sting,
And more than the subway jerks,
I love you truer than a toper loves a brewer,
And more than a hangnail irks.
I love you more than a bronco bucks,
Or a Yale man cheers the Blue.
Ask not what is this thing called love;
It's what I'm in with you.
Feb 14, 2018
Feb 14, 2018 at 2:51 PM UTC
You once told me that when we die,
we become another star in the night.
I never really cared about your zodiac and lunar signs,
I never paid attention to the solar action shooting by,
You'd wonder if it's magic plans or broken scrap that flew the skies,
You were psychedelic dresses, I was only wrapped in suit and tie,
It never blew my mind until I finally gave your truth a try,
I glimpsed the puzzle pieces in the time before the moon would rise,
A tapestry on galaxies, depicting myths, and human lies,
I guess you proved me wrong again, I was quick to scrutinize.
Now, I'm studying the subjects and sitting in observatories,
Thinking back to when I'd write them off before I heard the stories,
Earth is boring now you're gone, I hope you're up there yearning for me,
Every star's a soul, I'd see you but there's nothing worse than stormy
Nights and light pollution, it's a blinding kind of nuisance,
I'd be admiring your fusion but the sky has turned translucent,
But still I'm plotting charts of stars, I'm always making observations,
Waiting for the day I get to see your face in constellations.
I wanna chase you forever, whether heaven or hell, I'll go,
Can't let you float away, I'll take a world tour with my telescope,
The way I speed through hemispheres, this night will be the death of me,
But otherwise I'd only see you half the year, you're my Persephone,
I'll trek from Arctic harbors, give binoculars to polar bears,
Shiver in my igloo, hands together, say a hopeful prayer,
And no, I won't be lonely there, your soul will be a solar flare,
You'll whisper an aurora, northern lights to let me know you care.
I'll whistle Canis Major and Minor, and let Orion guide me,
I'm quite unlikely to quit, what kind of guy would I be?
To search the Seven Sisters for an eighth and get inside their psyche?
I'll question Cassiopeia, Cygnus, and Pisces nicely,
Ask if they've seen something fishy, and then I'll talk to Taurus,
An orbit tourist, I'm daunted without the gall to forfeit,
So if you're gone, then I'm glad that this was all you taught me,
I live each day for the night and just endure the morning.
Jan 31, 2019
Jan 31, 2019 at 3:50 PM UTC
catch the last wave and i'll be there
combing the beachhead of our misery
swollen with big love, choking on the theory of our negative heavens
you and i,
we marvel at the heresy of our wisdom
and cherish no giant over divine
we david the furies that are nephelim
but conjure no gods where the plastic can't be useful
we dunder in the bluff of innocent cupids
we -
the idiots on the cliff -
dancing
when the glockenspiel itches !
clock faced and *** up
i'll be there with black honey, " With You "
no doubt
pondering the wrinkles in your sleep breath.
the sweet killing of tomcats and mackerels
the plain fact that our noses
are numb from eskimo kissing
in the igloo of our perpetual alaska
the arctic furnace of our wild fires of pure illusion
to trod stunning over hell's paradise
and catch a glimpse of snarky
stark Silence...
You
catch the last wave -
and i'll be nothing but the singing bones of the wind
in the throes of an ****** of " need you " and only you.
a chosen cyclone from heaven
i'll be just a little boy
in the clutches of a dead teddy
where the poppies sing
hallelujah !
and our hearts blight the orchid of our accord.
and down -
comes, what ?
what do we do ? what could we possibly ?
we hopscotch the bonnets
and glue ravenous bumblebees
to a blanket
of snow.
cause we have the technology -
we can disassemble it...
discretely.
Aug 6, 2013
Aug 6, 2013 at 3:24 PM UTC
An Eskimo in an igloo
Wrote a poem or two
But he couldn't get
The internet
So nobody ever knew
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 5:28 PM UTC
For those among us who lived by the rules,
Lived frugal lives of pubis-scratching desperation;
For those who sustained a zombie-like state for 30 or 40 years,
For these few, our lucky few—
We bequeath an interactive Life-Alert emergency dogtag,
Or a dog, a colossal beast of a pet,
A humongus Harlequin Dane dog to feed,
For that matter, why not buy a few new cars before you die?
Your home mortgage is dead and buried.
We gave you senior-citizen rates for water, gas & electricity—
“The Big 3,” as they are known in certain Gasoline Alley-retro
Neighborhoods among us,
Our parishes.
Our boroughs.
All this and more, had you lived small,
Had you played by the rules for Smurfs & Serfs.
We leave you the chance to treat your grandkids
Like Santa’s A-List clientele,
“Good ‘ol Grampa,” they’ll recollect fondly,
“Sweet Grammy Strunzo,” they will sigh.
What more could you want in retirement?
You’ve enabled another generation of deadbeat grandparents,
And now you’re next in line for the ice floe,
To be taken away while still alive,
Still hunched over and wheezing,
On a midnight sleigh ride,
Your son, pulling the proverbial Eskimo sled,
Down to some random Arctic shore,
Placing you gently on the ice floe.
Your son; your boy--
A true chip off the igloo, so to speak.
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 10:22 AM UTC
A SESTINA FOR BRIAN
How being born on Christmas Day can make
some people think that you have this passion
for being so compassionate and construct
all sorts of things like Christ the Great Carpenter
did for living spaces of all levels
of human dwelling. You have always had to create
things for dwelling spaces and you always change
It’s like you have been going in your innate passion
since you were a baby. I saw you in winter, to make
a snow igloo. You had everything planned and constructed
this igloo right by the side of the house. It had this level
of true sophistication for a boy of your age. You could create
wonderful things: towers and tree forts and then change
to art work to decorate our house.
Brian, I’ve known you to go out of your way to make
breakfast for us. I remember the strange passion
you had and made us peanut butter and banana constructions
of pancakes. You did all sorts of culinary things on the level
of perfection to even make the best chefs just create
something to quench their envy of you. You never change
Now, when you got older, you still possessed this desire to make
you went through Penn State Ogontz and kept up this passion
to create other things and learn enough to construct
buildings but you needed the education to earn a living to create
things with your hard-earned degree and actually change
and re-arrange houses or interior of places on a different level
Why your inner mental and emotional makeup came out in such passion
that all who came into contact with you when you failed to construct
a certain project to your own perfectionistic liking and it made
you very angry and you used such profanity and it just changed
you from this compassionate and soft hearted soul into creating a raving demon out of you.
The way that you used to go out of your way and created
A wonderful family unit from a wife to a pair of children made
you bring out another facet of your personality: the father level
The two children came out of that union as some construct
from your desire to keep on creating through this passion
to keep up on revising and re-building so that you always change
@2006 Linda Barrett
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 10:28 PM UTC
Someone must have built it
leaving no trace or proof.
Some other thing must have existed
for this is reality.
It's existance is proof!
snow snow snow
trickling down
swirling around
was it dropped by mysterious hands?
no.
So why not this igloo too
perhaps a big bang
a speck of dust grew
if no one created earth
why not this igloo too
Jan 7, 2013
Jan 7, 2013 at 6:55 PM UTC
Hey, I'm not a lumberjack, or a fur trader there's only one pelt I'm interested in....
I don't live in an igloo or eat blubber, or own a dogsled Global warming has taken all the snow away....
and I don't know Jimmy, Sally or Suzy from Canada, i do know Partel, Kareem, Xi Chein and Steve
and they're really really nice.
I have a Prime Minister who is ******** not a president.
I speak English and a little French, not American though we like to mock southern accents...
And I pronounce it 'aboot, not about...
I can proudly sew my country's flag on my backpack along with with motorhead and misfits patches...
I believe in peace keeping, not policing unless you count the G20...
diversity, not assimilation, unless it's the borg...
and that the ****** is a truly proud and noble animal and a bald one is truely a wonder to behold...
A toque is a hat that douchbags wear all year round, a chesterfield is a couch that my dunken friends sleep on,
and it is pronounced 'zed' not 'zee', 'zed' unless its Zebra because Zedbra sounds stupid!!!
Canada is the second largest landmass that can be pilfered by multinational conglomerates!
The first nation of hockey!
and the best part of North America... except vegas!
My name is Josh!!
And I am Canadian!!!
EH?
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 2:18 PM UTC
i took a trip to iceland to see the eskimos
to see if when they kiss they had to rub there nose
i boarded on a plane to the icy shore
to see if was true or something to ignore
i built my self an igloo and carved it from the ice
it looked rather comfy and so very nice
i took a look around all along the snow
to try and solve the story of the eskimo
then to my surprise an eskimo appeared
he had a furry coat and and a hairy beard
then came along his wife they began to kiss
noses rubbing softly they were full of bliss
now i know the myth and now i know its true
when eskimos are in love this is what they do
Apr 13, 2014
Apr 13, 2014 at 12:20 PM UTC
Inserted ear buds
Attempted confinement
Chained to misery.
My igloo of isolation with the computer doesn't hold well against
Winds of anxiety blowing torrents of stuff through my mind.
An arctic tundra of ravaged grass.
Long-necked lamp looms
Waiting anxiously for me and
Witnessing bouts of non-progress.
Perpetrators impregnate fleeting tranquility
Never wanting me to win
in my concentration.
--Bony bodies slipping under the crack in the door.
They are the Monkey Mind
I have to escape from.
Many.
Petty.
Fears.
This is the way my consciousness wages war.
Ripping itself apart
Defeating purpose
till there is none.
During battles,
Monkeys Rule It All.
At the end
I shall win.
Oct 13, 2013
Oct 13, 2013 at 5:54 AM UTC
I wanna give the universe something tough to digest.
I see it with a ******* up look on its face.
Puzzle the universe
Be like me.
I wanna create a gazillion variants of myself.
Each one degree further removed from the last.
Get in line now
Be more like me.
I wanna dissolve the unsurety left over from a thousand
Races that have died out.
Know yourself
Fight the knowledge.
I want to invade the space left by your mind when it rushed
Out to find itself.
Mommy left you
Never forget it.
I want to condition the part of you that takes care of plants
But forgets to turn the light off.
Darkness is a blessing
Only if you let it.
I want to take aim at the eternal you and forever change it.
You are cascading now.
How does it feel
You restless thumb sucker.
You want me to change you, feed you, and take you outside.
I am your new mom.
Momma's gonna buy you
A mocking bird.
You want harassment, a harness, an igloo, and idioms.
I am the fire that will melt them all.
Listen to me
Your time has come.
May 23, 2015
May 23, 2015 at 8:47 AM UTC
Like thousands of soldiers in parachutes
they come out of the winter sky
One by one hitting the pavement
to claim victory for the season now unfolding
At first they are vanquished almost instantly
a price paid for those leading the charge
However as they begin to accumulate and cluster
a formidable foe is being created
Inch by inch, foot by foot, a fortress is being built
one that can be transformed into an igloo for shelter if needed
Soon the landscape will be covered by a heavy white blanket
left unattended it will run amok overwhelming all
As plummeting temperatures assault those not ready
once open lakes and river pathways no longer escape routes
A battering ram of inclement weather hampering travel
imprisoning those caught unaware of its fury
Snow drifts form obstructing passageways
entrapping those not prepared with an escape route
Waiting out the enemy a defensive strategy now in use
As it surrounds you on all sides building an oppressing presence
High winds and frostbite commingling in the air
that will dominate at the end of the day
Beauty or beast
The conflict yet to be decided.
Andreas Simic ©
Apr 23, 2022
Apr 23, 2022 at 7:19 AM UTC
maybe sometimes, you are trying to fall asleep.
and my words fall on you like snowflakes, antarctic and weighted. an igloo of what used to be.
lay there, frigid, and remember when our hearts throbbed for each other.
maybe they still do.
Apr 1, 2011
Apr 1, 2011 at 10:13 PM UTC
He's trying to break the glass ceiling,
He keeps punching, now his fists bleeding,
The footsteps above only motivate him further,
In finding true freedom, it's minus two
But his burning desire is enough, to burn an igloo,
Let's just see what the power of thought can do.
Apr 23, 2017
Apr 23, 2017 at 8:29 PM UTC
With demons at my toes
I curl my feet round yours
Deep within our blanket igloo;
I can trace your bones,
From one shoulder to the next
Until reality comes spiralling forward
And every dark corner
Is slowly forgotten.
Each night I bury my worries into your neck
With a soft slow kiss
As you relish in your deep slumber;
The only time I don't mind
Going unnoticed.
Aug 19, 2013
Aug 19, 2013 at 3:35 AM UTC
Boy meets girl.
Girl marries boy.
Baby comes nine months later
— blessed little killjoy.
Boy neglects girl.
Girl henpecks boy.
There'll be hell to pay
for slighting Helen of Troy.
Such an elegant fear,
this alliance, and yet,
when it's held in selfish hands
it merrily dissolves,
turning as tedious
and drab as Shakespeare.
Boy annoys girl.
Girl leaves boy.
It takes a special kind of madness
in building to simply then destroy.
Turn the other cheek
and Judas will kiss that one too,
reduce the bairn's fever
by visiting daddy's igloo.
Weekends are pay toilets
and happy meals,
frustration is a word all too real.
When did antipathy begin to rule?
About the time diplomacy was forced
into playing the fool.
The good times no one catalogues,
this life has gone straight to the dogs.
The Iditarod Trail extends
from Seward to Nome.
Run the race and make believe
the kids are tucked in safe at home.
According to Dorothy
there's no place like it.
Jun 23, 2023
Jun 23, 2023 at 6:50 AM UTC
Me for you and you for me,
That’s how I want our love to be,
You for me and me for you,
Forever, not just one but two.
Me for you and you for me,
For swapping witty repartee,
And being great, when good would do,
For being ever next to you.
You for me and me for you,
For agreeing that we disagree,
For being stuck to you like glue,
A self-adhesive devotee.
Me for you and you for me,
For making lack of trust taboo,
For making love a guarantee,
For breaking into my igloo.
Me for you and you for me,
No euphemism will do for me,
The only thing I know that’s true,
Is you for me, and me for you.
r1.4
Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 11:04 AM UTC
I've pitched my tent close to
the cloistered stars
where the cool breath of heaven
caresses my cloud capped face
and my heart can exile
her pain in the uninhabited
sterling stillness
no footprints lead to my door
in this endless white tundra
not even an echo enters
silent black pearl
crystallized, suspended
inanimate
exhaled
but I am not lost
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 3:09 PM UTC
Gravel, dirt or old blacktops
cruising around, not many stops
through a pasture or tunnel of trees
backroad therapy sets your soul free
Driving around, might even get stuck
No high dollar cooler in back of my truck
Just an old igloo, full of beer on ice
Drink them to fast for that yeti price
Backroads and beer
Nobody else here
No cops around
Jamming country sounds
Just me, my lady, my old red heeler
Flip channels, check score, cowboys and Steelers
Blanket and a picnic behind the seat
Pull over in the shade for an afternoon treat
Might stop at the creek for a skinny dip
Squeeze her tight and kiss her lips
Chasing each other and splashing water
Keeping cool as the evening gets hotter
Backroads and beer
Nobody else here
No cops around
Jamming country sounds
Mountains blue, pop the top
This is so fun may never stop
Out in the country is the place to be
No suit, no tie, completely free
Ol red starts barking, sees a rabbit
Pull over, he jumps out to grab it
The chase is on, we watch and see
Reds tongue is flapping but rabbit ran free
Backroads and beer
Nobody else here
No cops around
Jamming country sounds
Sep 18, 2016
Sep 18, 2016 at 10:59 PM UTC
I'd pen a paragraph
or two
scribble out a
scroll
for
you
the ink pours out this pen
to produce a pretty prose
that's true
hoping
to show my view
my hopes
my dreams
the best for you
don't waste life
heed
this
be true
to you
make mistakes
keep youth's virtue
get a tattoo
in fact
get two
try that awful hairdo
keep your family
close
remember their value
be spontaneous
an impromptu trip
to a beach
or igloo
hug your mother
when
she's blue
learn Kung fu or write haikus
just continue
down your own
avenue
I hope to be there to see
how you grew and take
some credit for the
you
that
is
you
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 8:00 PM UTC
*I'll build an igloo from
your snow. I'll build an
igloo from your winter.
I'll build an igloo so I
can get a chance to
eskimo kiss your little
buttoned shaped
nose in the
freezing
cold* ~
Jan 15, 2016
Jan 15, 2016 at 4:48 PM UTC
You know how people always build homes
in the people they love?
Me being the silliest architect there could be
Built a tiny igloo in you
With little if not no certainty,
Within the bountiful depths and crevices
In your mind of a maze and icy darkness of your soul
I found a spot for myself amidst the craze,
to keep myself warm and cosy from the cold.
In this little safe haven I seek comfort in
I established a place I called my own.
My tiny space of refuge I call it,
but in it I live alone.
As loneliness kicks in
I slowly explore outside of home,
In search of a getaway retreat
Nothing too fancy, nowhere alone.
And then I realise how homesick I get
When I dwell in the heart of another
All I want to do is to return
Back into a pair of arms that wont falter.
Did I mention how I built an igloo in you and called it my home?
Igloos melt in heat
and my love, so did you.
My home no longer.
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 11:10 AM UTC