Quotes about yelp
The Crane
The biggest crane on earth, it lifts
Two hundred ton more easily
Than I can lift my heavy head:
And when it swings, the whole world shifts,
Or so, at least, it seems to me,
As, day and night, adream I lie
Upon my crippled back in bed,
And watch it against the sky.
My mother, hunching in her chair,
Day-long, and stitching trousers there--
At three-and-three the dozen pair . . .
She'd sit all night, and stitch for me,
Her son, if I could only wear . . .
She never lifts her eyes to see
The big crane swinging through the air.
But though she has no time to talk,
She always cleans the window-pane,
That I may see it clear and plain:
[...] Read more
poem by Wilfred Wilson Gibson
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The Dogs
My desires are upon me like dogs, I beat them back,
Yet they yelp upon my track;
And I know that my soul one day shall lie at their feet,
And my soul be these dogs' meat.
My soul walks robed in white where the saints sing psalms,
Among the lilies and palms,
Beholding the face of God through the radiant bars
Of the mystical gate of stars;
The robes of my soul are whiter than snow, she sings
Praise of immortal things;
Yet still she listens, still, in the night, she hears
The dogs' yelp in her ears.
O Most High! I will pray, look down through the seven
Passionate veils of heaven,
Out of eternal peace, where the world's desire
Enfolds thee in veils of fire;
Holy of Holies, the immaculate Lamb,
Behold me, the thing I am!
[...] Read more
poem by Arthur Symons
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Captain Von Esson of the “Sebastopol”
Of his beauty, or stature, or colour of hair I hadn’t the slightest hint,
But he comes to me as a little man, with a scrubby beard and a squint,
With a heart somewhere if it wasn’t there, and an Irish terrier nose,
With a bark or a yelp for his friends and his crew, and a bull-dog grip for his foes.
The Japs had taken a permanent fort at the price of ten thousand sons,
And they shelled the ships in the harbour there with their landed naval guns.
Through sand bags laid on the upper deck, the shells went through with a whelt—
And some (because of ballistic curve) out under the armoured belt.
Till each was sunk that the Russians left—while the buildings reeled with the shock,
Save the last of the Russian ships of war—the Sebastopol—in dock.
And this is the reason—told in a line—why there is a tale to tell:
The Sebastopol had a man for boss, and a crew that knew it well.
He rousted them out from the dens ashore, and they didn’t engage in prayer,
For dear men pray when the fight is done, and there wasn’t a cheap man there.
He rooted the dock-hands out, when crouched, in deadly fear of the Jap,
But they stood in greater immediate fear of Von Esson’s squint and his yap.
She groped her way in the gathering dusk, out under the time-dulled din,
[...] Read more
poem by Henry Lawson
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I am called a dog because I fawn on those who give me anything, I yelp at those who refuse, and I set my teeth in rascals.
quote by Diogenes
Added by Lucian Velea
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While Eastern soul walks Westerly
He's an innocent Aryan
Who sees his cruel cousin
Adolf Hitler kneels at Anne Frank's grave
And cries aloud like a German Shepherd's yelp.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Firmness in enduring and exertion is a character I always wish to possess. I have always despised the whining yelp of complaint and cowardly resolve.
quote by Robert Burns
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On That Day When All Is Dark
On that day when all is dark
When I wake on that blackened day
Though I wake to find no day
I will burn a flower on my tiny finger
And cipher the heart of the yelp
poem by T. Wignesan
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Homomatopoia
Hiss,
Grunt,
roar
Gibber
growl
screech
Humm
drone
buzz
chirp
whistle
tweet
boom
yelp
cry
Bell
bark
squawk
woof
howl
[...] Read more
poem by Jerome Moore
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Is this an omen of a senile wind?
My beloved became an infant
And crying in the cot.
I was the cruel day care teacher
Who changes her diaper.
And the next door widow strums her monotonous harp
Marco's yelp woke me up.
*She grumbles in the morning why I called the widow's name several times.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The Crack of a Bone
It's a pivotal moment
The crack of a bone
A yelp of pain
A drawn-out moan
Whenever I see her
Another one cracks
Each limb is cut off
With the swing of axe
I just wait for the moment
Where she chops off my head
Put an end to my torture
I'd much rather be dead
poem by Scott Marek
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