"weasel" poems
Folks, I noticed a dyin' sunset today
It made me weep
Just like the raindrops
That hit my cheeks
{ Weasel }
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 8:50 PM UTC
Usually when you
Think of nights, folks
You think of a full moon
Being in the sky
But there's nothing
But total darkness
{ Weasel }
Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 10:54 PM UTC
Roses always wither
Before I've even had
A chance to enjoy them
Which usually makes
The Weasel feel like cryin'
{ Weasel }
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 8:50 PM UTC
O stony grey soil of Monaghan
The laugh from my love you thieved;
You took the gay child of my passion
And gave me your clod-conceived.
You clogged the feet of my boyhood
And I believed that my stumble
Had the poise and stride of Apollo
And his voice my thick tongued mumble.
You told me the plough was immortal!
O green-life conquering plough!
The mandril stained, your coulter blunted
In the smooth lea-field of my brow.
You sang on steaming dunghills
A song of cowards' brood,
You perfumed my clothes with weasel itch,
You fed me on swinish food
You flung a ditch on my vision
Of beauty, love and truth.
O stony grey soil of Monaghan
You burgled my bank of youth!
Lost the long hours of pleasure
All the women that love young men.
O can I stilll stroke the monster's back
Or write with unpoisoned pen.
His name in these lonely verses
Or mention the dark fields where
The first gay flight of my lyric
Got caught in a peasant's prayer.
Mullahinsa, Drummeril, Black Shanco-
Wherever I turn I see
In the stony grey soil of Monaghan
Dead loves that were born for me.
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I noticed a shooting star
And it made me sad
To see a light
Fade.
{ Weasel }
Jan 25, 2014
Jan 25, 2014 at 12:00 AM UTC
It's funny that I can sit here and say
that my life is something, when I was lazy today.
I stayed inside, watched a movie or two
Cried my eyes out, feeling rather blue.
But after it was over, reality came back
and I realized that I... hadn't done jack.
Sure, I had felt, I had feared, I had wished,
I had procrastinated, and stuck up my fist.
In today's world, however, what does it mean
if you're not an athlete or mathlete; you're just unseen
Unseen because you have blocked yourself completely out
from the world, from danger, from the coming drought
of people who actually cared about others
and not just their next Friday night lovers.
Can I call myself accomplished at high
when all I've done is weasel my way by?
Using the bare minimum of my brain power.
Waisting little energy staying up for hours.
I've been lazy.
I AM lazy.
But should that validate anything I've done?
Should I waste away a life that's only just begun?
Or should I stop being lazy, here and today,
turn off the device, take a look around at... May?
That's the month, isn't it so?
I can't remember, do you even know?
I have been stuck in a grave mindset
that blocks out every responsibility or threat;
but I think I should awake
and see the world for it's mistakes
yet still embrace it 's wit
and never ever never quit.
I'm lazy, yes, but I can make my life something.
Because after all, we all started as nothing.
May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 1:59 PM UTC
Folks, I must wish
A good night to you all
{ Weasel }
Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 10:47 PM UTC
The Standard Model is full of sticky, quirky Quarks,
perky little Fermions, and the Boson Higgs,
the reigning King of Mass of towering might;
who, by spontaneously falling off in any old direction,
gives ad hoc Masses to nearly all, and to all a birthright.
And for all normal matter in creation,
the Boson Higgs is the physicist's salvation.
Alas, we could have learned more,
but a Weasel ate through the Collider core.
May 15, 2016
May 15, 2016 at 4:33 PM UTC
My face tells me nothing. Not nothing but nothing useful,
the complications of ageing humorously but not how to avoid
injury.
Permanent injury is a now popular cliché. At this age any injury
could result in pneumonia, pain in bitterness for your peers,
your jury.
What a headache I have! And never forget injury provokes
at best only pity. Friends are merely friendly, they belong to the
majority.
They forget your name and so should you, who are you? Even you
don't know for sure. In relation to community, no change was noted in
the
registry.
Still, man's mercy, economy's ecology, there's some joy in being small,
some joy in staying strong, and keeping death before you without
perjury.
Unsafe to run the wind. A big stick might hit your head. Then
the hip and heart and head will hurt, all three. Un-
fortunately.
I like a strong wind. Dangerous to go out in. As a fire or flood.
I like the way we are at risk, not a risk-averse weasel. A carnivore,
very hungry.
Pay money, take chances. Yo's an elegant contraction of you.
Cool. Message from street to board: mongrels rule. Democracy or
tyranny.
Scared to die? Why? Take appropriate measures, descend through
meditation. Be empty, rest. And to your friends and sons be as
gravity.
Tired of death. It's what it is. Let's play sports, have *** kayak
to the huckleberries, fish for marvelous fish, live a wonderful life, give
generously.
Done blowing, O wild wind? Not yet? So be it. I lay my head
in your felt hands. The motion of the branches, evolutionary branches,
are my
guarantee.
That's all folks, 7:30. The sky is clear, the crows are out. The clouds
are with my mood commensurate. I should shout, having lived
prodigiously.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 10:38 AM UTC
I've had enough of all this wind and reindeer
We otter go away
Holidays are important, my parents tortoise that
Weasel have to look on the internet
You know I can't bear the heat
But here's a spa hotel where I'm sure they would panda to your every need
Alpaca suitcase right away
Toothpaste tube, cattle class
Purple stripes, rows of lights
A newly formed castle white
In concrete, steel and glass
Cloud-high halls, giant pots
Re-charging bodies strewn around
Turning deeper shades of brown
Volcanic sand, hot black rock
We watch a floating city, blazing light
Like a dying star, fade into the night
-
Ali, where do these bananas go?
What kind of tree is this?
How far does this levada flow?
Ali takes the tourists out
He throws some breadcrumbs in the water
He likes to feed the trout
Madeira born in forty five
Ali told me many things
Ali, our levada walking guide
His family was very poor
He collected mussels from the shore
And sticks to burn for heat
For today his mother said
I have no food and we must eat
We have to eat
Ali, where are all the vines?
How long before your boots wear out?
Do you drink the local wine?
Do the tourists drive you mad
With all the questions that they ask?
Ali smiles, shuffles us aside
To let some others pass
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 9:02 AM UTC
{Fergus.} This whole day have I followed in the rocks,
And you have changed and flowed from shape to
shape,
First as a raven on whose ancient wings
Scarcely a feather lingered, then you seemed
A weasel moving on from stone to stone,
And now at last you wear a human shape,
A thin grey man half lost in gathering night.
{Druid.} What would you, king of the proud Red Branch
kings?
{Fergus.} This would I Say, most wise of living souls:
Young subtle Conchubar sat close by me
When I gave judgment, and his words were wise,
And what to me was burden without end,
To him seemed easy, So I laid the crown
Upon his head to cast away my sorrow.
{Druid.} What would you, king of the proud Red Branch
kings?
{Fergus.} A king and proud! and that is my despair.
I feast amid my people on the hill,
And pace the woods, and drive my chariot-wheels
In the white border of the murmuring sea;
And still I feel the crown upon my head
{Druid.} What would you, Fergus?
{Fergus.} Be no more a king
But learn the dreaming wisdom that is yours.
{Druid.} Look on my thin grey hair and hollow cheeks
And on these hands that may not lift the sword,
This body trembling like a wind-blown reed.
No woman's loved me, no man sought my help.
{Fergus.} A king is but a foolish labourer
Who wastes his blood to be another's dream.
{Druid.} Take, if you must, this little bag of dreams;
Unloose the cord, and they will wrap you round.
{Fergus.} I See my life go drifting like a river
From change to change; I have been many things --
A green drop in the surge, a gleam of light
Upon a sword, a fir-tree on a hill,
An old slave grinding at a heavy quern,
A king sitting upon a chair of gold --
And all these things were wonderful and great;
But now I have grown nothing, knowing all.
Ah! Druid, Druid, how great webs of sorrow
Lay hidden in the small slate-coloured thing!
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Moo-Cow-Butterfly
Not a happy lass
Stubby little wings
Superfluous mass
Four long stringy legs
Twirly-whirly tongue
Moo-Cow-Butterfly
Highly strung
Weasel-Emu-Rangutan
Fifty shades of fur
Quite the oddest vertebrate
To naturally occur
Burrows in the jungle
Terrified of heights
Weasel-Emu-Rangutan
Restless nights
Labra-Hippo-Jellyfish
Slimy furry blob
Genetic Engineering
**** poor job
Moping on the seabed
Can’t fetch sticks
Labra-Hippo-Jellyfish
Sink like bricks
Chameleon-Begonias
Origin unknown
Disappear rapidly
As soon as they are sown
Neither here or thereabouts
But somewhere in between
Chameleon-Begonias
Seldom Seen
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 4:36 PM UTC
Pancakes
-
Pie
-
Apple
-
Green
-
Malfoy
-
Snake
-
Mother
-
Upstairs
-
Refrigerator
-
Computer
-
Refrigerator
-
Computer
-
Hunger
-
Refrigerator
-
Homework
-
Computer
-
Sigh
-
Mouse
-
Rodent
-
Weasel
-
Ron Weasley
-
Red
-
Cherry
-
Sundae
-
Hunger
-
Pancakes.
© 3/16/13
Mar 16, 2013
Mar 16, 2013 at 3:21 PM UTC
*This is a poem for Rachel Corrie. I am not religious, and a far cry from spiritual, but I refuse to imagine Rachel Corrie insentient and six feet under, slowly amalgamating with the soil encasing her. Before her death, Rachel Corrie said “I still really want to dance around to Pat Benatar and have boyfriends and make comics for my co-workers. But I also want this to stop.” In the words of contemporary Palestinian poet Suheir Hammad “God has a better imagination than all of us combined” in either God's words or my own, I will not imagine in/on the same ground in/on which I maybe soon will be and more words from Suheir “What do I tell young people about non-violence when they can see for themselves how even orange bright and megaphone loud and cameras and US citizenship will not stop your ****** what do I tell young people/anyone even myself about “non-violence” when every single thing I've seen presenting itself/perhaps even masquerading as “non-violence” has been in my face and /rude/harsh/unavoidable and most of all, violent? I do not believe in God and humanity is pushing it's luck, but I believe in Rachel Corrie. This is for Rachel;*
I should study a she-wolf's prose
she wanted to write about death
but life would frequently
weasel and wheedle it's way in
there’s an overhanging image
a smaller
yet
infinitely larger
organism
continuously broached
by each word
I only want to study
a caterpillar’s motion
backward/forward /onward
across arms/legs
of this deer/dear
[her] surname/
[my] given name/
separated by [semi/totally] circular VOWels
***** blond hair
dirtied by dust /
rubble /
rhyme /reason/
whatever/ in compliance
with a rep/RESENT/ative democracy
several shades lighter
literally
figuratively
whiter
than she
need no permission
pat benatar
would/should croon
to your moves
every
boy and girl friend
i will/may/have/had
should be yours
entomo/insecto/[social] phobias
I never would’ve said so
I never
would’ve/
could’ve
told the caterpillar
to go
Nov 28, 2011
Nov 28, 2011 at 8:41 PM UTC
there was a little weasel he was safari bound
he took a trip to Africa to the jungle ground
took his little case and a spyglass to
to take a closer look and a better view
now weasel he was ready his safari had begun
deep inside the jungle looking for some fun
there were lots on animals tigers and lots more
and some very odd ones he never saw before
there were lots of monkeys swinging in the trees
jumping branch to branch swinging with such ease
halfway through the jungle he heard a little yell
where ever it was coming from he really couldnt tell
he got out his spyglass and had a look around
to see if he could find this little yelling sound
suddenly he saw a little crocodile
he was very sad and been there a while
crocodile saw weasel and he began to cry
weasel was upset and asked the reason why
i am in a trap he said that someone laid for me
dont worry said the weasel i will set you free
weasel he was clever he knew what to do
through the trap of rope he began to chew
crocodile was happy he was trapped no more
now he had his freedom like he did before
weasel he returned from his holdiday
and thinks about the crocodile every single day
Feb 12, 2014
Feb 12, 2014 at 11:57 AM UTC
Storms awakened me
From my sleep early this morn
Rain came pouring down.
I was scared there for a while,
Lightning flashed and thunder pealed.
{ Weasel }
Feb 21, 2014
Feb 21, 2014 at 10:16 PM UTC
I know it's only been a short time since the first moment I saw you but when I did, I knew
I have watched your mouth carve wisdom into trees, your beak burying its secrets into their wood
It is the most graceful destruction I have ever witnessed
There is music in your rhythm; you are a song I could play on repeat
No hummingbird can create what symphonies your unknown language does
If we spoke the same one I would tell you how much I want to love you
I do, like sand loves kisses from waves and how flowers grow every time the sun greets them
I didn't know how to tell you this
So I took the only opportunity I had available
I decided to risk it all for the chance to be yours
I have hopped from the highest branch on to your back and I am along for the ride, the ups and downs of romance, how it can take you to new heights once impossible to reach
You have given me wings I never thought I could have
While some have mistaken my attempts with bad intention, you are the only one who truly needs to understand
The only struggle here is the hoping that you will feel the same,
That you will see more than rodent in me
Maybe you could realize I am more than just digging holes and rascality
I would fly to the moon just to prove myself to you
Together we could be one for the books, crossing boundaries not yet written in history
I hope you don't take me as too forward
But I didn't want to risk not knowing if we could ever be
I took a leap of faith-
Thank you for catching me.
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 5:43 PM UTC
The moment I spoke
your name
for the last time,
you felt it.
You had to throw
the net again into the sea,
to trap me
in my pathetic
admiration of you.
You felt it when
I forgot you existed.
You had to weasel your way
back in to
my heart.
But the space reserved for you
has grown
so small.
How many years
do you plan
on pulling me along?
Dragging me behind your
reckless automobile, my face raw
from rubbing the asphalt. Skin chaffed from
repeated abuse. You are
the madman behind
the wheel.
I forgot about you
until you reminded me that
I'm simply not me
unless I feel
discarded, abandoned,
unloved by you.
Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 1:13 AM UTC
This cool riverside
Is so nice to relax by
Birds sing pleasantly.
{ Weasel }
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 12:48 AM UTC
I don't know 'bout you
I love Papa John's Pizza
Cut me a slice please.
{ Weasel }
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 12:33 AM UTC
i saw a little weasel a lovely chap was he
playing in my garden by the willow tree
he was very cute as happy as can be
running round the garden so very wild and free
i watched in him for a while having lots of fun
running round my garden underneath the sun
then he dissapeared into his hole so deep
then he closed his eyes then fell fast asleep
Sep 6, 2010
Sep 6, 2010 at 3:59 PM UTC
**Timothy (my dad), Hilda (my mom),
Weasel, & Sally A Bayan**
~Marian~
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 2:18 PM UTC
i've learned how to smell the circus
i've watched a black mongrel turn into a weasel
tonight the moon's nickname is
crooked betty
and the stars are
bleeding adam's apples
shining like a volcano
i wield a hacksaw and terrible excuses
my mouth is wet with jingle jangle
and situational confusion
everything is temporary.
Feb 3, 2012
Feb 3, 2012 at 11:58 PM UTC
The neighborhood's gone to ****
and no one seems to care the doors
are blown off from the tempest
blackening the air. Swanson sleeps
with Harbors who takes Johnson in her mouth
while Johnson picks spare change from
the cushions in his couch. Brinkley's
unemployed but subservient to Mrs. Langer,
while Desmond reaches for two shotgun
rounds and places them in the chamber.
Boom went the weasel and Jill's on
methamphetamine
while the neighborhood we knew and loved
went harshly down the stream.
The months can be a ***** and the year's
have been a *****
the neighborhood's gone to ****
and I'm finally crawling out the door.
Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 1:14 PM UTC
The other day was awful,
I tell you the truth.
I got stuck within the snow
No one to help me, I know,
Wish I was a youth.
The plow came along the way,
But friends don't you know?
I never was helped, you see,
I was pressed in more deeply,
My car - mound of snow.
It seems there's trouble wit me,
No matter where I go.
People it is tough on me
And I only get laughed at see?
I am buried in snow.
What did I do to merit
Such an awful blow?
Is it because folk like to joke
Bully others, pick and poke?
I just do not know.
{ Weasel }
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 9:31 PM UTC