"walloping" poems
A gray hippopotamus lived in a zoo
At the end of the Tropical Line,
Harry the Hippo lived next to the loo
Right by the Northern confines.
With his wide toothy smile,
And his great double chin,
He greeted his neighbors
With a great hippo grin...
Made friends with the deer,
Made friends with an owl,
Avoided the white scowling bear,
Avoided the family of wolves,
(He'd heard they liked to eat meat).
Decided to friend a great, walloping moose,
A challenge, his neighbor seemed rather elite.
Tall and severe with a beard on his chin,
He stood like a tree on his heavy brown hooves,
And branches of antlers stood heavy and grim.
"I see we are neighbors,"said Harry the Hippo,
"Name's Harry," he said with a grin,
"Since it looks like we'll be here a while, ya' know,
I figure we ought to be friends!"
"Bull" Moose only chewed a bit more on his cud,
Burped in the gray hippo's face,
Turned his wide antlers for well and for good...
He spurned the whole hippo race.
But Harry had patience,
Had nowhere to go,
So he waited a week and a month and a day
For Otto the Moose to come 'round,
And he did! And now the two of 'em play.
Our Harry's advice to you is be nice,
And after a while, it comes true....
The balkiest neighbors will have to think twice
And fall into friendship with you.
(0=
Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 10:58 PM UTC
For example: the frogs
find a dinner plate, and an acorn
makes funny gestures from beneath the dirt.
And the string twangs, as was expected.
How simple, how unlikely to happen to us.
Only a misplaced vector connects
the pine tree’s yowl to the sandbox,
which, if you don’t think about it, is alright.
I get confused so many times
before I stop and train my thoughts.
And again: the sound I hear
is either walnuts cracking or red birds
splashing into windows. But
the movements have been extinguished
and the two are so dissimilar they may as well
be the same. Or watermelons
stomping insects underfoot. In
the other room of this house is a man
walloping a rooster with a broom,
but the rooster is too scared
to tell him just how effective
positive thinking is, just as oceans
are too murky to provide freethinkers
with a useful metaphor.
Of course not, said a man
lifting his cat from pool. But then
it was too late, and something
was pulling whimpers through the air.
Jan 11, 2010
Jan 11, 2010 at 11:28 AM UTC
/sword
in the way
by the well
it is said
she will rise from the blue
and it is true
...chilly mossy air
petticoats and nighties
little torch
and walloping gumboots
pig tails and
bandaids
the little girl went running
the rust of the bucket
the shadows cast by the hidden moon
a bolt of lightning in a far away tree
scare her a little
but she goes on
..at the well
she points and whispers
and there is the ghost-ish-thing
with its sad sad eyes
it tells the girl of the slashes
and deaths the swords
and the wars
have caused in its time and
it tells the girl
to stop the wars from happening again and again
...the little girl often visits the ghost
she is not frightened as the ghost has never sought to harm her
instead she listens, and learns
the ghost is her teacher
Apr 26, 2013
Apr 26, 2013 at 5:54 AM UTC
The shore is always there—
beyond the rocky coast
a hawk whips a wing at
the volatile sea, quaking from the force
of an unseen monster below whose
walloping jaws flop open to consume all,
yet some nights the monster’s mouth
matches mine; she gently kisses me
inside a sea-strewn dream,
her slick blue skin descending
beneath moonlit flesh—she’s emerging
from the waves, lunging toward the clouds
adorned with detonations
of sea green and foam
Her dive ends
She’s the whale again
A shadow beneath blue white glass
On I sail,
scanning the dark familiar ocean
it means everything.
Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 1:16 PM UTC
a short america is gruffly and shouting with the britain who's is owns the metal caffeine *** dull and shiny they suckle about and like to rambling about the weather and the whethers and they clump to safely dryness by the wall at the little under of the eave plunking out the serious angle of its chin walloping the rain and makes a pleasant patch. they 2, the america and the britain, spitting at each others ears their voices they like to hear
Feb 25, 2011
Feb 25, 2011 at 2:35 PM UTC
What's not
torn down
by whatever
forces decide
to destroy:
The nails
worn with
yellow gloves
yes, and the
walloping water
that wicks wet,
is the same
sharp dry bursts
that blows up
cupcake confetti
through Pinkie's
party canon
Sep 23, 2016
Sep 23, 2016 at 12:52 AM UTC
Oh how difficult it is
To find beauty in the black.
Loneliness, a carping vulture,
Hovers domineeringly over my shoulder
Like a judge presiding over a defendant,
Pecking at my skull ardently as if to call
The sleeping phantasms of my mind to order.
What I am guilty of I cannot say,
Yet I am encapsulated by a dungeon
Where darkness engulfs me like a clammy sleep,
Rendering me senseless and numb.
In presence of my agony, the cynical bird
Assumes the role of conqueror,
Flapping its wings forcefully, walloping the gelid air
Right and left throughout the cell,
Beleaguering my skin
And rattling my bones.
Oh how I long to extinguish this perpetual anguish.
Though on a rare occurrence,
A ribbon of sunshine stealthy slides
Through a crevice in the
Blistered board suffocating my window.
I rejoice,
Coddling it’s mellow benevolence.
But the light is retrieved by the bird’s
Watchful eyes.
It spreads its wings,
Swoops before my eyes,
And extinguishes the light,
Fueling the frigid, black
Night.
Oh how difficult it is
To find beauty in the black.
Jun 1, 2016
Jun 1, 2016 at 2:42 PM UTC
Observing a man
Walloping his cat,
For mewing without respite,
Gripped by fright
A dog kept quite,
In a pitch-dark night
When a thief
Heading the gate past
Stole into a hut!"
Read this tale to me my aunt
When I was
On the wrong side of an infant,
To hit home" Never bury the fact !"
With a dump eye
I condoned the walloping
Of colleagues
Who asked
"Injustice and ill treatment why?"
Anon, my turn turned up
And I suffered a deadly slap!
Bubbling up
From my memories back
The meaning of the tale
I heard four decades back
Appeared to me stark
When I suffered
A similar meaningless
Power exercising attack!
My Novel 'Hope from the Debris of Hopelessness'
Paperback
Publisher: Noah Books (October 14, 2017)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 194811707X
ISBN-13: 978-1948117074
Jan 4, 2018
Jan 4, 2018 at 3:36 AM UTC
Huddled by the bypass entrance
The sun glared at the Earth's
Asphalt facade, walloping it accordingly
Cameras sat patiently on the
Sign-beams like congregant birds
Waiting to snitch on someone
Behaving out of turn
Those adoring paparazzi
Admonishing, admonishing
Wannabe-rapper-wannabe came crawling
Out of the watering hole
Still parched yet gasping for air
Looking like he'd been swimming,
Looking like he'd been up against a current
That traveled generations wide
"Spare change, anyone,
Spare a quarter, help
Little old me?"
Tsk. - Doors locking
Tsk. - Glass shimmying
"I'm not out here for fun, man"
The whimpering stray
Bitch-slapping the open air
"Well, **** you all, any way"
The drone of throttled engines
Rubber to road and fleet vanishing
He's melting, on the wing of the onramp
He is being drunk whole
"Man, **** you all, any way"
An echo's trace as the ghost ships depart.
Jul 20, 2019
Jul 20, 2019 at 5:09 PM UTC