Love Poems About Rodent or Rodent Love Poems
by Kim Merryman |
Categories: animals, , cute,

The Mouse is a Rat - Show Me the Funny II

The mouse in our house is a rat,
I'm now quite certain of that.
It's not little and cute,
It's long and uncouth.
Can't wait til I hear it go splat!

11/16/12
(An apology to all animal lovers. I really do not
want to kill it. I love animals too. I just want the
germy rodent out of my house, and I want him to 
stay gone!)
For Andrea's "Show Me the Funny Part II" contest


by Daniel Human |
Categories: cute love, happy, love, marriage, nature,

Mousey Spouse

as the daisy petal drops silver dew
on the green moss carpet down below
little buds budding far and few
drinking and sipping as it grew
tiny mass of mosstly plush
stilled the patter of feet in rush
tiny rodent playful mouse
running home to mousey spouse
feet wet with dampened dew
over tiny landscape flew
loving whiskers touching nose
twitching twitterly happy prose
home and heart safe and sound
under brush within a mound
home is where the hearts do meet
at the end of wet tracks of little feet

Portmanteau:
Moss softly = mosstly
Twitterly = twitter happily

by Alayande Stephen |
Categories: friendship, life, lost love, love, passion,

HOW I WISH . . .

That she is still my golden dace
That she hadn’t lie to me
That she forever twist to me
Her glittering voluble hips
That she can still show case
Her ever-charming eyes to me
How I wish . . .

That I can still be the only Knight
In her with my wandering white horse 
That I can always remain the only
Rodent in her divided heart
That I can have her wrap up 
Always in my warm-up body 
How I wish . . .




Alayande Stephen Tolulope
10th August 2006
3.28pm.    


I decided to quit with her after considering 
The last discussion we had. A follow up to 
The poem “And we lied “.








by rachel hart |
Categories: allegory, life, love, passion

dirty deeds

where did you sleep 
last night little spirit
where did you go when
i let your dirty deeds
slide? 
i heard from everyone
you were begging for a
ride to escape me, to
forget what you had
seen.
but i'm not worried i
saw your footprints outside
imagined how you scurried 
like a rodent from a hungry
beast. 
it was the least i could
do, to lick the salt from
your brow; open wide&
allow your curiosity
to blossom inside.
i peer outside, waiting.

by tom bell |
Categories: adventure, angst, animals, music, parody, song-

To Steady Freddy

Thanks for your comments.....I love the Animals...even met Eric Burdon twice....
As for the Monkees, I'm afraid Joe has already decreed that I am to wear a soiled
rat- suit.  So how about I come up with "Take the Last Grain to Rathole?' Or 
House of the Rousing Rodents?  Or We Gotta Get Into That Place?  Or "I'm a 
Rodent Deceiver!"  Please advise.  tom

by George McDougall |
Categories: seasonslove,

WINTER SUN

The rustle of a leaf
And a smiling mouse.
The rustle of a leaf
And the cold cold chill.

The winter's sun looks sad.
Flowers cease to bloom.
My love for winter, is beyond the sun
My love for winter is gone.

You killed the trees
And the rustling leaves.
The tiny mouse ran from you.
Did you ask the mouse, why?

The rustle of the leaf is gone.
My empty heart is dead.
The rustle of the leaves,
My rodent friend is dead.

by Tony Bush |
Categories: life, love, sad, me,

Isolation

In isolation mull the severed links,
chain corroded thoughts as keens the winter chill;
though shines a sun, strangely cold;
this mind sculpts only cognitive ice.

With rodent greed the hemlock grief it drinks,
stagnant pools of ancient rain lie still;
their primal fears recoil, grow old,
removed, reincarnated once or twice.

Feasting on the hand me down concealing,
filtered through the caverns of a heart;
they marvel at the monster they created,
his tears never shed, nor ever cried.

Only I know garrisons of feeling,
beaten and chastised and chained apart;
miss her more than they anticipated;
something in me died…

by Tony Bush |
Categories: introspection, life, loss, love, time, me,

Isolation

In isolation mull the severed links,
chain corroded thoughts as keens the winter chill;
though shines a sun, strangely cold;
this mind sculpts only cognitive ice.

With rodent greed the hemlock grief it drinks,
stagnant pools of ancient rain lie still;
their primal fears recoil, grow old,
removed, reincarnated once or twice.

Feasting on the hand me down concealing,
filtered through the caverns of a heart;
they marvel at the monster they created,
his tears never shed, nor ever cried.

Only I know garrisons of feeling,
beaten and chastised and chained apart;
miss her more than they anticipated;
something in me died…