Quotes about squeal, page 3
Thoughts On The Roman Palatine
In Apollo’s portico among the empty shelves,
Where nor gods nor poets spoke what emperors demand –
Virgil’s vast shrine to loved Gallus dead,
Ovid’s allegories of empire’s rape –
I sit and watch Cybele’s hippodrome,
Hear the squeal of chariots, the sweating horses,
And cheer them home, the red and white,
A single voice among the roaring past.
poem by Rob Dyer
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The Feel Of Skin
it's nice to feel close to somebody again
to have somebody there that wants to hold your hand
to lean back your head, rest on a friendly shoulder
makes me never want to grow any older
I never knew how much I truly missed the feel of skin
missed those strong fingers, and your chest I feel is sin
even the rough squeezes on my side that make me squeal
that give me tender bruises, I still love the way you feel
poem by D.M.L. Catseye
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Healthy Children And Child Star Vision
healthy little boys and girls
wriggle squeal in their chairs
as they compete bid for praise
attention while an autistic boy
sits alone lost in a silent dream
visiting imagination worlds few
ever conceive of consider visit
worlds Einstein visited long ago
in an early model patent office
worlds Steven Hawking visited
immobile seemingly mindless
thoughtless from rigid body cage
wheelchair freed mind soars
slow progression has allowed
influential discoveries insight
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Quickens Its Own Demise
A shallowness connected,
And shared with limited mentalities...
Quickens its own demise.
This is not shown,
Until a visitor from the unknown is made.
And only then does an end,
To sophisticated ignorance shown...
Saves others from demons,
Hiding from the innocent in darkness!
In an overblown self induced superiority.
Where a slick wickedness is practiced and condoned!
And they undo themselves with an honorable skill.
And when revealed...
Squeal like children discovered doing evil deeds.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Moon Blanket
You're the candy bar
I want to eat
the sugar dropp on my tongue
and you tease like summer promises
in the back of your pickup truck
and I look up and can only see stars
and your mouth
on mine.
You start me up like that custom hemi of yours
and make me roar
make hair pin turns in my hair
which make me squeal to
the stars above
twinkling
on top of us
on this mattress
as we lay,
only the moon
for a blanket.
[...] Read more
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Angels are for real
There is something inside that I feel
An inner strengthening of my will
What’s the big deal?
Let me reveal
Angels are for real
There's nothing to conceal
This secret you can steal
I say as I kneel
Angels are for real
I quietly appeal
With such zeal
Angels are for real
Luck they bring
With each wing
Love they air as they sing
Always there when you squeal
[...] Read more
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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The Dance
In Breughel's great picture, The Kermess,
the dancers go round, they go round and
around, the squeal and the blare and the
tweedle of bagpipes, a bugle and fiddles
tipping their bellies, (round as the thick-
sided glasses whose wash they impound)
their hips and their bellies off balance
to turn them. Kicking and rolling about
the Fair Grounds, swinging their butts, those
shanks must be sound to bear up under such
rollicking measures, prance as they dance
in Breughel's great picture, The Kermess
poem by William Carlos Williams
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Forgive Me
No one dare interprete pigs squeal
No art can know the heart contents.
When I offend, you ask me
For there lies our friendship root
Try not to hold me in your heart
Call me and let me know.
Forgiveness is a good drug for amity
Forgiveness is a tonic that unites
It is the manure for flourishing.
We are bound to diasgree
Know that true friendship solidfies when we talk
Frank talk based on forgiveness may be bitter
But know that from bees that sting
Comes the sweet honey
Let us learn to forgive each other
For there lies the world peace
poem by Babatunde Aremu
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Atrocities
You told me, in your drunken-boasting mood,
How once you butchered prisoners. That was good!
I'm sure you felt no pity while they stood
Patient and cowed and scared, as prisoners should.
How did you do them in? Come, don't be shy:
You know I love to hear how Germans die,
Downstairs in dug-outs. 'Camerad!' they cry;
Then squeal like stoats when bombs begin to fly.
And you? I know your record. You went sick
When orders looked unwholesome: then, with trick
And lie, you wangled home. And here you are,
Still talking big and boozing in a bar.
poem by Siegfried Sassoon
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Pen Battle
It started with a thought
A pen and a blank page
Slowly the ink flowed
And released my hidden rage
For here on these pages
My mind is free to speak
Here there is no fear
My words strong, not weak
My pen strikes a blow
On all that is evil and wrong
Stabs at humanity
While they squeal and scream their song
Here I wage my pen battle
I’m the master of my war
Here I fight intolerance
Racism, abuse and more
[...] Read more
poem by James Waters
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