Zebra love poems and/or love poems about Zebra. Read, share, and enjoy these Zebra love poems! Also, try our sister website's powerful search engine for poems or see our other Zebra Poems.
Life is in pieces of black and white
Like a chessboard
The moonlight shines through darkness of night
Like a barcode
Noah chose a raven, then dove
Bad luck or peace?
A bride in white dressed in pure love
Black mourn decease
The penguin and the zebra
The snow leopard
White tiger and the panda
Milk boils when it is heated
Tar melts when hot
Cotton flies, wool is seated
Coal heats the pot
I print all of these lines
In jet black ink
On a white sheet designed
To make you think
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
love, nature, seasons,
Bullfrogs greeted dusk.
Evening clouds cooled the heat waves.
Gathering for night,
Zebra longwings butterflies,
Rested near a moonlit pond.
Permeated summer air
Drinking their nectar of choice.
Love was also there.
Drifting through eternal dreams.
Forever with me.
Reflections upon my life,
Made more beautiful by you.
ã June 2, 2012
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: Lets Pass A Tanka Love Note
Sponsor ^Rick Parise
Solitude?Come not to us our is not a ghost city.
Fun seeker? Come not alone our canopy is big .
Our fresh oceanic cuisine is surplus and honeymixed.
Fear not when baby whales are washed to the semolina beach
Or when little children are basking on zebra and horses' manes
But jump on a tusker and have a whale of the tamer of forest.
The angels shall alight with the rising of the sun
With awesome fry-pan or leaf-cutter backyards,
Perch on love like butterfly and enjoy our moonlight rock and roll.
america, art, cinderella, deep, fantasy, journey, muse,
Black is not white
Nor is it black or white
Ask any purple Zebra
He will explain so colorfully
Illustrating the life and love
Of a dancing Gothic chicken
Around a lake of make-believe dreams
Steam punk trains
On the tracks of time
At yesterdays window
Red Sea,Mediterranen Sea
Pembrokeshire coast park
Lochinvar hot springs
PS;the reminder of the natural world around us.
the poem about animals, plants,rivers,lakes
,mountains,seas ,waterfalls and hot spring.
dream, fantasy, love,
she is madness
with raven hair
of wooded fire
with zebra thighs
breasts of clouds
lips of champagne
ace of hearts
mother of pearl
eyes of blue siren
sings for me
no one ever hears
yesterday and tomorrow
Monday through Friday
swims in the ocean
that I prepare for her
comes and goes
to the sky...
allusion, beauty, love,
the zebra took off to his greener pastures
he's lion in grass
for his love to be tiger
the zebra took off
"Take this fluffy pony painted black and white – this love in stripes."
To: Linda or Poet Destroyer
beautiful, beauty, kiss, love,
from the night
and all of a sudden
there was the sound
of a passionate kiss
paradise shuttered with love.
And at that moment
the moon lifted up his brow
shining down upon you
revealing your soft form
a blazing sculptural art.
You my love
with thighs of zebra
coils of serpents
breasts of turtledoves
tender round hips.
Kiss me again
with purplish fire
of glowing lips
while our two wild manes
mingle their torrents...
Stripes on a zebra
The pattern of a leopard’s spots
These are things I may want to change
But know that I cannot
Your stripes are your selfishness
Your spots are your cheating ways
These are the markings that make you you
And are here, I’m afraid, to stay
The sun always rises in the east
And sets each day in the west
I’ll never be able to tame your beast
So, moving on, I think, is best
by Joe Flach for the "Serenity Response" contest
"accept things I cannot change"
2nd grade, 3rd grade, 4th grade, 5th grade, 6th grade, 7th grade, 8th grade,
Yesterday delightful. Sixty degrees.
Could have warmed us up.
I hid in the house, frightened by the love of it.
Today I am sitting in my yard, wearing zebra pajamas.
A zip up suit with a pink fringed hood and a tail.
The tail is not comfortable, but cute.
The wind is brisk, almost too much so.
I do not care.
I am content.
Soaking up nature’s offerings.
FABIYAS M V
Sweet feminine syrup oozes out.
Soon he returns to the same pale valley.
The locomotive rhythm lulls him to snooze
near the kaleidoscope-window.
He’s been reinstalled on the border,
where the roar of terror never ceases,
like a statue of contradiction
with a rifle in hand
and love in heart.
Reunion is a recurring rapture.
She crosses the highway to pick him up.
What a pity!
A drunk-driver is a silhouette of death.
Lifting the latch of sleep,
he often slips out to the zebra crossing,
where she walks across with a bunch of dreams.
First published in The Literary Hatchet