"yips" poems
Frisky, little, swimmer
danceful wiggle dips
Yellowy, orange, shimmer
puckering fishy lips
Thoughtful, quiet, feller
never any yips
Lonely, curious, critter
Got any life tips?
Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 11:20 AM UTC
Bright eyed,
And bushy tailed.
Happy yips,
And loved by all.
Oh, when did it go wrong?
Foot soldiers,
And flying boulders.
Screams and howls,
Along with angry hooting owls.
You run so far,
Following the East star,
Not knowing what to do.
Mother dead,
And Father crazy,
Who else is there?
To watch over you.
Nov 15, 2014
Nov 15, 2014 at 12:14 PM UTC
the girl was always strange...a little different from the rest...she stayed to herself in her room after school...and loved animals the best...talked to them out loud in funny voices...her long hair covering her face and eyes...so one day it really came as no surprise to her to find she was growing a funny bump on her backside...that sorta looked like a tail...at first it was easy to hide...she stuffed it in her pants and no one was wiser...except it felt a bit strange sitting on that thing...and when she was happy, darned if it didn't start to wag...all by itself...a few weeks went by and that tail started growing...longer and furry red like a setter dog...at least the back part anyhow....and her parents wondered why she never wore shorts anymore...one day she answered a question at school...and a happy bark slipped out of her mouth!....classmates eyes round looking at her...teacher smiled and thought it was a joke...of course that is how she passed it off...but by golly if she didn't control... her cheers for a team....yips and growls popped out in excitement...her friends really thought she was strange...but the more it happened the more the girl liked it...she enjoyed being different...and by golly...her dog loved her just the same (as he always did.)..but her folks wondered why there were furry dog hairs inside her clothes...just down the one pants leg...hmmm...
well that gal grew mighty strange...funny things like barks and howls sang out in the middle of church choir....they started calling her wolf girl at school....and darned if her ears didn't start pointing at that remark...at night she'd stick her head out the door...gaze at the street waiting for a bark...from a little yorky across the street...and when that dog caught sight of her... man...the barks went crazy...all from her!....soon she got the urge to run...so down she went when no one was about...and raced like the wind on all fours...man she could rip...faster than her dog...they'd zoom about the back yard...after a ball...and she caught it first...parents watching her one day...seeing her playing like a pooch...worried the heck out of them...they wondered what to do...they took her to a doctor...doctor saw that growing tail...well he scratched his head in puzzlement...and darned if the girl didn't lick his face!....and offer him her hand to shake...like a dog!....well time went on since then...that girl is still stranger than strange...running round barking scratching at fleas...got a collar now and tags that say her name....guess she's got the best of both worlds..being human...and being man's best friend...''
by L B
Sep 6, 2012
Sep 6, 2012 at 3:06 PM UTC
Can't you feel my screaming heart?
I feel all yours and it's unbearable
To know everyone's intention may seem ineffable
Though my passion is emotion and empathy my art
Dwelling silent in a crowded room
To the right a pursuit of lust
And my left a lack of trust
Empty grins with their facade and doom
Another item has been stolen
My peers in an unknowing uproar
I see the culprits guilt pour
From his weary eye and coven
The ***** swoons the love of an unworthy patron
She gazes at me with a tempting question
Attempting to construct my envy and affection
My will is stronger than that seducing notion
The lonely man makes a joking inquisition
All the rest see it as a laughable gesture
I look with sad eyes to see his slouching posture
He wants to die in his pathetic position
The muscle bound dunce smacks his lips
Glorified as the acrobatic conversationalist
Strapped men in shackles and girls can't resist
His compensated shortage of yays and yips
A quiet smile looks on with a perfect mask
Playing pretend with an inglorious burden
Faking a life inside of her chaotic garden
Of hollow theatrics in which she basks
There goes the lad with his flippy hair
The little ladies want a picture with the fellow
Oh you're so rad the flocking lasses bellow
And, you wonder why I don't seem to care?
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 10:07 AM UTC
In a house of love,
Sweet sounds ring out constantly,
The soundtrack is warm and energetic,
In the movie of my life.
Countless kisses, and close embraces,
Hugs and playful wrestling.
The booming laugh, and
Giddy giggle of my loved ones.
The occasional squawks or yips.
Just add to the beauty of our melody.
It is our love that fills the air with song.
It is your love that sustains me,
My beloved composer of bliss.
Sep 15, 2012
Sep 15, 2012 at 7:53 AM UTC
There we stood, my dog and I
The wide open expanse of the winter
Field beneath our feet. The vapor of our
Breaths mix as we charge through the
Snow, side by side. I see the earnest expectation
That shines in his eyes. A bond is formed.
A sudden stop, ears perked, there exists only
The dead silence of the space between us and
The woodland trees in the distance. The thin
Border between our world and the wilderness.
We **** our head towards the sound from the
Trees- the distant yip of coyotes. A tension grows.
I see the silhouettes, they silently glide across the
Dark horizon of the forest. The taunting yips call
Out to us. The hair stands up on his back, on my neck.
Blood in my ears, the taste of iron at my teeth. We
Crouch and stalk, a snarl forms in his toothed mouth.
The opponents stand, sizing up. Yellow eyes lock.
My veins pulsate with blood, our hearts pump as one.
The dog looks back, his eyes begging for the command.
Pleading for the shedding of blood as the animosity fills
My eyes with blackened darkness, hearkening to the days
Of spears and stones. My fists clenched and a snarl forms
Around my lips and my teeth. The space shrinks.
I can taste the blood, I can hear the wounded screams of
Our opponents as they fall at our feet. Tearing of flesh
And breaking of bone as his teeth rip skin and my hands
Crush necks. And yet a sudden moment of clarity visits,
And I grab the collar despite the desperate cry. A retreat is made.
Jan 1, 2013
Jan 1, 2013 at 7:11 PM UTC
owl call gliding over all
coyotes feeding yips and howls
all this expressed now I can sleep
but for jangling metal flagpole
careless winds that raise
my wariness of flags
Jan 9, 2017
Jan 9, 2017 at 11:22 PM UTC
Red river run
Sand bar island
Green mossy tree
Hang over me
Blue sky clear
Sweet rot breeze
Peeper frog chorus
Lying in the forest
Soft lichen touch
Purple petal peak
Fuzzy bee bumbles
Distant bridge rumbles
Bloop and blip
Sounds abound
Chirps and yips
And coffee sips
It's nice to be alone
To hear the sounds
See the sights
Avoid the fights
Muskrat Hollow
Coyote Creek
Hanging Tree
The place to be.
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 1:22 PM UTC
Brisk air chilled his bone
rising sun called him home.
Frozen earth crunched beneath feet
his chest grew tight accepting defeat.
Lone stranger wanting acceptance
tail between legs recognizing deception.
Howls filled the meadow
snarls directed at the young fellow.
Coward runs from menacing yips
avoiding jaws at heels that nip.
Mist rises from the water
following him as he wanders.
May 22, 2011
May 22, 2011 at 8:06 PM UTC
Peaceful trees, covered in swarming bees
Dot the coast of a rugged land.
Every spot on a leopard's coat
Gets reflected in the words I wrote.
Padded paws pleasantlfy plod
Through the countryside.
Bounding through beaches of yellow sand,
Blaring trumpets from every band.
Herds of elephants marching across my page
Of journal entries lost in grasses so high.
Frightened by yips of hyena sentries
Guarding the thoughts poured n m this ink.
Tickling birds crowding the sky
Singing so loud, barely able to fly.
Crocodiles sink back into drying mud,
Swimming towards the forsaken, stuck in crud
Of filler words
Cramming into my mind.
A rugged land filled
With creatures of every kind.
Lost among the peaceful trees,
Drowned in the sound of buzzing bees.
Oct 26, 2013
Oct 26, 2013 at 10:05 PM UTC
Diana of the woods and
Wild animals, as swift as winds
That rustle leaves, her muscles are as
Mighty as the brown bear, her legs are as
Steady and strong as the wolf dog that yips
At her swiveling hips, her motion as graceful
As the rushing rivers, yet as fierce as a tornado’s
Spiral, pouncing, bounding, she cuts the air as sharp
As the arrow that springs from her bow, eyes transfixed
On her target—
Diana, goddess of the woods and
Wild animals, captured in black bronze
And displayed atop marble like a prize won.
Oct 16, 2017
Oct 16, 2017 at 1:00 PM UTC
In anti-intruder apprenticeships
The tiniest tiny canines yips
At any passing tread
Because it’s def con red.
A zombie will flee from shih tzu nips.
Aug 12, 2024
Aug 12, 2024 at 1:33 PM UTC
~
for years innumerable
this generational mystery persisted
even when the heat radiated down
and not a shadow would pass
the slightest rumbles
not the rumbles of a drifting shelf
or the slipping of a plate far away
but something similarly natural
and soothing
cozy and nestled in a cradle
kits slept against grey skin
edges softened and worn
offering the perfect bassinette
to another family of foxes
a strong wind tipped a tree
crumbling mountain found a canyon below
the snows came and ice stretched deep
separating basalt and sedimentary
I felt myself falling apart
It was after this harshest of winters
I began to notice different sounds...
the constant steady clicking
of a raven cracking filberts
upon my exposed bones
the trickling of a nearby stream
carrying away pieces of my body
rolling them smooth
sending them to lands
I would never see
and the foxes
each early spring and late summer
they would return to my womb
bring forth new life
from the belly of a stone
I have lost count….
how many babies have I held
how many soft toes have explored my veins
how many light yips from the depths
have lulled me to sleep
when strong winds blow
and the trees begin to lean /
Jan 17, 2017
Jan 17, 2017 at 3:55 PM UTC
A rose, pre-bloom, gives rooms a swoon
with June looming we ‘true-lovers’ croon
to whom we love like the singing loon
on ponds, far below, during foggy dawns.
Her lilting song travels on light gusts
a dusky hue with wafting musk
silhouette sits still in the opposite dusk
while fawns nibble delicate fronds.
A valley beneath wreathed in mist
gentle breezes distort and twist
two geese entwined in a lovers tryst
float along blowing jazz sax songs.
A fox awakens to the sounds
to the ponds edge, down and around,
he hunkers low to watch them drown
in broad strokes he follows along.
The ensuing gloom sends the loon to soar
as she can stand to watch no more
blood and feathers find the shore
a fox, engorged, yips his song. /
May 2, 2017
May 2, 2017 at 12:59 PM UTC
Silent paws trotting
on a well beaten trail,
alone in the wilderness,
so young and so frail.
Little yips go unanswered,
the moon is now his guide,
looking for ones just like him,
or have all of them just died?
He sniffs the dampened ground
and senses man everywhere,
the silence is deafening
no howls in the air.
Oh why did he venture
so far from his den,
while his pack fell silent
at the hands of men?
His stomach is growling
but the hunger he’ll endure,
his pack family is out there
it’s their blood he smells for sure.
He stops in his tracks
and raises his head up high,
the terror overwhelms him
as he lets out another cry.
But still there’s no answer
he can’t understand why,
he’ll follow their trail
or he surely will die.
For days now he’s traveled
his spirit and body gone weak,
he lies down in white clover
no more energy left to speak.
Soon the soul hovers
over this tiny, frail pup,
whose future now will be guarded
as his soul travels up.
What right does man have
to take life from a living thing,
that has no way to voice its defense
against a human being?
The wolf is a symbol,
a brother, a friend.
it’s time now for action
before his existence comes to an end.
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 5:13 PM UTC
open sores ooze discontent
yellowish **** flows down the infected leg
red and hot skin swells and distorts
while thick green pasty rot coats the region
undeterred by the sight, white teeth flash
savage growls penetrate the night
as the pack looks to down the injured stag
gnashing fangs and yips of pleasure pierce the darkness
tearing sinew and ripped fur fly
damaging multiple square feet
I spotlight the affair
knowing tomorrow will be filled with
circling turkey vultures
and the sick smell of fresh death in the field –
Sep 2, 2015
Sep 2, 2015 at 5:51 PM UTC