Flea Poems - Poems about Flea

parasitic it creeps between stage curtains floorboards collect grooves an advertised show that's bait & switch draws us in expected to stare into the near darkness ...

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I hate it when a flea takes a liking to me and keeps darting in front of my eyes. I try swatting it away, but she thinks it's play, and so keeps it up - until she dies....

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on weekends, Mondays, and maybe Fridays too/ across the Bebop time zones/ people be digging at flea markets 4 Bebop jazz gold/ walkin', talkin', lookin' workin' the price/ on a table way in the back/ I dug into a crate of LPS and found jazz vinyl alongside a vacuum cleaner/ It was Mark Murphy singing vocalese/ and the young Roland Kirk...

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Trump has been trumped Kamala is riding high She’s a wordsmith with a brain And grumpy Trumpy’s word shy She’s younger and full of vitality He’s lost the ear of the crowd While thinking he’d win easily He’s now course and very loud Spitting words of venom Accusing her of dastardly doings Kamala is the chosen one His election bid in ruins Xi, Putin and ping pong...

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My doubts are grave can I write verse? That will withstand test of endless time Hesitant my thoughts scan universe Will pen craft free verse or maybe rhyme? Often departed poets cross my mind Poe with his Raven and Donne with his flea In Literature cannon, they are enshrined Myself I feel they were written for me. To those giddy heights, I do...

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Where did you get a stuffed albino squirrel? I say this after giving it a tug and a whirl. After oohing and ahhing over it, we all yell And I mean down deep from the bowls of hell… “Jambers!” loud and proud simultaneously. We have all been there since our mothers’ knee. Jambers is the most notorious flea shop in New...

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"Marry me," the spider said to the flea. Don't you find it cute to live on my web? No, I will never forget your blather. On your bedside, my brother in your deb. You asked for a snack, left me, and be back. Suddenly, you began weaving your neb. Wrapped in a silk cage, promise not to age. Until your last breath...

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What is a flea market? I asked, unsure. I found all kinds of things not found in the mall. Antiques that brought memories back Things I have never seen anywhere else Things I knew I would never see or find anywhere else again Home made things from creative people Shiny things, feathery things, things of leather. I was overjoyed when I discovered...

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Outside a quaint town in fair Vermont, by my family’s vacation home, is a small field with fences and sign, in the warm month’s it’s a place to go. They have a flea market on weekends, rows of tents pitched under mountains green, for most people it is just old junk, but it is fascinating to me. There’s a tent that’s selling goat-milk...

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He sits and scratches With endless scratching They cover him in patches Hope they aren’t catching He struggles with them Longing to destroy their eggs They darken and condemn Creeping and crawling with long legs He dreads this affliction Which comes to him often Yearning for their eviction His heart would surely soften He is the dog of my dreams Yet he begs and he pleads For relief...

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A flea and a fly, both Very Shy The flea beat his wings The fly batted her eyes The time came to part, O my! The flea tried to look 'Good' ~ as the fly waved 'Bye'...

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No words to capture elusive love. Chased, with boxing glove laced to hand. Attempt to catch a feathered dove; make a lasting stand. Stalk whispered wind in noon-day traffic. Place a collar on a flea. This vessel spent, so suddenly does seek repose. Lord knows, we do our part. Patching daily hatred with a beaten heart....

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monkey wrinkle nose twitches curls it hairy lips ~ pick clean itchy fleas 11/9/2020 Any NEW Nature Inspired Haiku Poetry Contest. Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin...

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The women were busy pointing out features, making change. It was Saturday, and their flea market booth was crowded In the back I could see the prettiest thing in the booth He was about three years old, sitting in a little hammock Singing to himself, as his mom and aunt made a living. I admired their ingenuity, rigging him...

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There was a king once reigning Who carried a great, big flea— And far from him complaining, The flea filled the king with glee! For to him that flea was dearer Than even his only son, And to make his preference clearer, Raised it higher than anyone! In ermine, silk and satin The flea was soon arrayed; Of sable was is hat in, His frock coat,...

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