Quotes about growl, page 8
Intercourse Giggles At Me
They have slaughtered my golden day
In front of my eyes,
And my mournful voice was repressed,
In the durum beats of celebration.
I am digging a grave,
In the soil of my heart.
Death
Breaks into my love brimming heart;
My people
Have forgot to feel affection for life,
And they growl at one another
With brutal sounds.
I have a menace
In front which I did not risk,
My nose,
Has died for perfumes;
And a dread
Has squeezed all tastes of my tongue.
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poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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The British Tar
A British tar is a soaring soul,
As free as a mountain bird,
His energetic fist should be ready to resist
A dictatorial word.
His nose should pant and his lip should curl,
His cheeks should flame and his brow should furl,
His bosom should heave and his heart should glow,
And his fist be ever ready for a knock-down blow.
His eyes should flash with an inborn fire,
His brow with scorn be rung;
He never should bow down to a domineering frown,
Or the tang of a tyrant tongue.
His foot should stamp and his throat should growl,
His hair should twirl and his face should scowl;
His eyes should flash and his breast protrude,
And this should be his customary attitude!
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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Halloween Quartet No 4 It’s Only Halloween
Outside my bedroom door,
I heard the scratching of its claws
wanting to get into my sanctuary.
Its growl was low and chilling
that my neck hairs stood on end
as it returned to scratching once more.
I lay there in my bed too fearful to move
wondering what hellish creature wanted to get in.
I watched the handle turn;
my heartbeat echoed in my ears,
fright stole my voice
as I lay there in my fears.
A slice of light cut the room into two.
I sank beneath the covers hoping not to be seen,
then a voice spirited around me
as someone pulled the sheet from my bed.
She stood there in ghostly white
and my wife screamed at me.
“Get up you big sissy it’s only Halloween.”
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poem by David Harris
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The Boxing Match
Two contenders on the ring
jumping, hitting and smashing each other
with gloves on, they fight like
the modern jaguars with the target of money
and the grand title the ring can offer.
As they punch each other
with the sole goal of winning,
they cease to look at each other
in the eye as friends in the lonely jungle
but as enemies in the fight over
who is weaker and who has more the power.
Never mind the blood that spills over!
Never mind the fall of the other contender!
The watching crowd shares
the nature of the tigers,
they, too, growl and cheer
when the other is knocked down.
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poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
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War the nightmare
‘Tis not a holy war,
Criminals are fooling all.
No one is playing fair,
Haul, growl and foul....
Earth is no less a bower/
To keep own sovereignty
Making sky touching tower
And destroy others dignity/
Nothing is permanent in nature
Friend or foe or lover../
Yester year's fort
Today's dilapidated ghostly
Monuments my dear/
O Hiroshima and Nagasaki!
Thy agony is a historical cover
War is not a solution at all
Peace and peace, we must call
Disarm all, before the humanity fall/
Never seen animal making
A killing machine,
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poem by Aftab Alam Khursheed
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Favourite Son
If you can learn what must be learned
As lions like to do,
Then one day, what respect is earned
When others look at you...
If you can leap and pounce at will
And growl a mighty roar!
Then surely life would prove a thrill
And who could ask for more?
If you can stalk your prey ahead,
Outwit it every time,
Then you and others can be fed
With fresh food so sublime...
If you can pace yourself each day
And yet remain aware,
Then who cares what the others say?
Don't worry, let them stare...
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poem by Denis Martindale
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You Are What You Drink
The mare had a foal, but it still had to work plowing
a meager field. The foal, prancing about on thin legs
when we stopped for a rest it quickly drank from its
mother´s udder and there was pastoral harmony.
I thought about this when reading about a six year
old boy in India who drank milk from a female dog
that treated the child as one of her own. Of course
this had little to do with rural accord, but stark need.
I once suckled milk off a ewe, sweet milk I thought,
but grew up fearful of people and shy of aspiration;
be unseen in the world´s field of humility and graze
in peace. Hope the dog- boy will grow up with big
fangs unafraid growl at people who try to dominate
him and only respect what his inner voice tells him.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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031910e Put In The Hole
i open my trunk and break out my club
pick out six balls and neatly line it up
stretch, bend, touch my toes for a few
practice swinging to upgrade my tempo
line up my feet to the center of the lake
recoil, release, impact, flew and wake
it landed to where it's not intended to be
good distance, slice, went out of the way
nice i would rather have bad shots now
blame not my club, i did what cause that
i know somebody is there watching me
maybe behind those windows, i see
i'm here to remind what should be done
relax, get out, get your golf bag have fun
i know you're winter rusty, so is everybody
so what if you'll lost few balls or hit a tree
you're just thinking of one thing, put in hole
yes, drive it, chip it, putt it and hear it growl
poem by Manonton Dalan
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Totally Random Phrases (that sound kinda naughty but aren't)
An ocean of devotion,
A tizzy of dizzy
A potion of lotion
In a sea of ecstasy
A Chasm of orgasm
A surfeit of stimulation
A quiver of shivers
An ovation of titillation
A night of delight
A clutch of a touch
A wonderful sight
A touch too much
A piece of striptease
An asp full of hiss
A squeeze of knees
An abyss of bliss,
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poem by David Whalen
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My God Walks
my god walks naked in the stillness...
her long hair falling in the moonlight.
her bare feet touching the earth,
her lips wet with the dew.
her breasts heave with the coming
and going of the waves...
her eyes shine like lanterns,
her breath bathes the trees...
and in her softness small animals take refuge...
in her growl change is born...
in her desire time is renewed.
and she sings the hymn of dialogue,
and touching, always touching....
she bends down to me and whispers
her hidden name...
while spiders and turtles begin
the work of redemption...
wolves howl, and mountains breathe...
my god takes the hand of the hungry child,
and walks past the point of distance!
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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