Whiskers
I have decided that to write in standard poetry
does seem quite trite and is a form of genteel snobbery.
So, I’ll try to break this habit and just think in plainer prose;
but ‘tis rather like a rabbit who must stop his twitching nose.
Still, here I go! Yes, I shall try to make that poet stop!
But, science says the hare will die if he must crawl, not hop.
Well, never mind; a poet’s mind can think in more than verse.
It’s just that words that fail to rhyme have whiskers far too terse!
They scratch and stiffly addle hope in bunny-brains like me . . .
While whiskers of a poet’s hand grow soft and long and free!
I love those words with fluffy fur, ‘cos twixt these floppy ears
I know the human side of life does prick so many a tear.
Alas, I see that I must write in standard poetry,
‘cos bushy tails and fuzzy paws redress humanity.
The Mouse in the Forrest
The Mouse in the forest was hanging up his wash
when all of a sudden he was very nearly squashed
by a Fox and her cubs who were, oh so busily,
flying right past his house on the way to karate!
After them came a Rabbit with her dozen baby bunnies; she
was taking them to study how to cook with mountain honey.
Then a goose with her goslings waddled slowly over him–
they were learning from a farmer how to build a solid pen.
The poor mouse got back up and he dusted himself off.
He alone recognized that sweet nature had been lost.
Many things are better slow!
Turtles, snails and starfish, too,
can teach me and can teach you
that speed and motion cannot give
the things that people need to live.
What is needed is to know
that many things are better slow …
sipping hot tea at the dawn,
taking naps on grassy lawns,
eating apples to the core,
walking ‘long the seaside shore.
Turtles, snails and starfish say:
“Slow it down! Enjoy the day!”
Peacocks Fly?
Long-tailed peacock high in a tree,
how in the world did you come to be
up in the branches? Your tail’s too long!
Down on earth is where you belong!
“So do you think that I’m just a flightless bird?
Well, I have wings I hold in reserve,”
the Peafowl proudly makes this retort.
He says, “But they are of a much lesser sort
than that of the Eagle who flies so free.
Mine submit their dignity
unto the plumage of my tail
to which all else surely pales.”
Pretty Peacock high in the tree,
Now I see, I see, I see.
His Last Word Was “Door”
Crocodile, Crocodile,
sunning on the shore,
I feel by you
completely ignored.
You are too lazy
to even snore!
I think you’re a
fossilized dinosaur!
You’re such a sluggard,
a total bore!
You don’t even care
if I open your door.
Why the Dawn is so Short
The restless dawn is chased away
as the sleepless lion comes on stage,
dominating the dialog –
a true Shakespearean demagogue.
He struts and pauses just to growl
and keeps it up until the owl
hoots and ushers him away –
only the owl can ruffle his mane.
Rhesus Macaques
We are rhesus macaques,
our bottoms are quite red.
But if you stop and stare at us
our faces, too, blush red.
Our ladies have red bottoms,
unlike green monkeys –
their males are ones with colored buts,
so stare at them, yes please.
Or better yet, do go and see
the really famous ones –
the baboons have the most red there
and they squeal and fight and run;
their King has a big white cape
and their babies ride on backs;
… so pass us by … we won’t cry!
We’re glad to see your tracks.
Asiatic Lions
The Asiatic Lion’s majestic demand
is that the first story is one from his land.
His grandfather’s grandfather was the king then,
and he would hold council in his massive den.
Elephants and tigers and buffalo, too,
acknowledged his kingship of all beneath the blue.
But in the heat of one long day
safari men with guns
killed so many that their time
on earth is nearly done.
As a kingly beast, while he submits
to mankind’s new world order,
he wonders if this present age
might, too, some day be over.