Penguin Poetry

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The following poems were entered in the Penguin Poetry Contest, held as part of the Second Annual Black and White Penguin Party, May 18, 2002. Authors had to be present to win, which unfortunately eliminated some people who had to leave early.

Poem	Author
Penguin, Penguin, Penguin	Karen Tiede
Pearl's Penguin	Pearl Jones
For Karen	Judy Hogan
Penguins	Kelly Bastow-Cox, for her grandmother, Edith Cox
Penguins	Julia Davis
King Arthur	Al Matthews
A Comical Bird	Wayne Farmer
Jed	Deborah Glover
Old Joe Penguin	Mike, Terry, and Gracie Clements
The Penguin on the Mount	Richard Stover
God and the Penguin	written by Joe Kenlan, read by Janice Rieves
Life of a Penguin	Gene McMahon
The Penguin Rap	Tanya Haralson and Mike
A Certain Shine of Ice	Cherie Ernest
The Penguin	Anon.
Biker Chick	Brian Dale
William Shakespenguin	Blackwell Brogden

The call to poetry, sung with respect to Reginald Heber and the Moncure Methodist Church who allowed us to use their parking lot:

Penguins, Penguins, Penguins

Penguin, penguins, penguins, eat some food and then when

You are full we'll celebrate in verse and song and rhyme.

Poetry and rap songs, limericks before long,

Sit back, relax and have a penguin time!

copyright © 2002 Karen Tiede

Pearl, Judy and Edith (authors of the next three entries) were not able to stay until the reading; the host read their poems.

Pearl's Penguin

I never thought that I would see

A penguin made from a tree.

Now that I have I will agree

They are as pretty as can be.

PS If you buy one and it's a she,

Name it Pearl after me.

copyright © 2002 Pearl Jones

For Karen

On my daily drive to the post office,

I pass by Karen's penguins,

crane my neck to see what new

shapes have arisen in her front yard

out of the log slices she keeps in back.

I've never been to Antarctica, never

seen a live penguin, but Karen's

mothers and nestlings, lovers with

their heads together, or single,

solemn birds in black and white

open my eyes to what it's like.

Thank you, Karen. Carve on!

copyright © 2002 Judy Hogan

Penguins

Seemingly awkward on the ground,

they waddle, stumble, slip.

They have wings yet remain confined,

upon the icy earth.

They have a secret yet,

hidden in their beady eyes,

preserved beneath their black and white.

They waddle, stumble, slip,

not built for the world

in which they live.

And so,

they plunge into the frigid waters,

and fly.

copyright © 2002 Kelly Bastow-Cox

Penguins

Penguins are black and white.

They are precious in sight.

They sleep at night.

They do not fight.

They have a kite.

Winner, Best (Author) Under 10

Limericks

Competition in the Limerick category was much fiercer than anticipated, unlike that in the Under-10s and Fledglings (over 10, not yet driving), which had a total of one entry between them.

King Arthur

When Arthur inquired of Queen Guin,

"You want one of Karen's penguins?"

She said, "That'd be nice,

It doesn't need ice:

A wood'n in this house would blend in!"

copyright © 2002 Al Matthews

A Comical Bird

A comical bird is the penguin

As funny as old Mr. Ed Wyn.

If the two were to meet

In a comedy fete,

For me, that would be a real win-win!

copyright © 2002 Wayne Farmer

Jed

There once was a penguin named Jed

Who couldn't get it out of his head

To learn how to fly

And soar through the sky

And possibly wear something red.

Jed was awarded the "Best Limerick" prize, for purity of form and rhyme. There were two other entries; we didn't get the text.

Poetry

Old Joe Penguin

Old Joe Penguin is a flightless bird

He lives on an island;

Dining on krill and squid and fish

They all keep him smiling!

Standing on the icy shore,

Waiting on his missus,

With an egg tucked on his feet,

Dreaming of fishy kisses.

Way down in Antarctica

By the deep blue sea

Are the daddy penguins

And their families.

While the ladies sport and play

Diving for their dinner,

Daddy penguins stand and wait

Wishing for a minner.

Old Joe Penguin won "Best Song;" the Clements family accompanied their song with guitar and violin.

copyright © 2002 Mike, Terry, and Gracie Clements

The Penguin on the Mount

Oh, I have never seen a sight as thrilling as a penguin

Speeding down a ravine

So fast, so swift, that in the blink of an eye,

It does so seem to literally fly by.

But as we know,

It is not so

As the lowly penguin does

On its belly go.

copyright © 2002 Richard Stover

God and the Penguin

"So you've finally come in."

Said God to the penguin.

Things were looking a little bereft.

"You've waited so long

All the best stuff is gone

But let's see if there's anything left."

Said the penguin to God

With a shy little nod,

"I don't want a lot, just enough.

If it's not out of reach,

Could I live near the beach

With a couple of fishes and stuff?"

"Well I do have one spot

Though it's not at all hot

But it's right at the edge of the sea.

There's a lovely wide strand

With no blowing sand..."

"Oh, I'll take it!" clapped the penguin with glee.

"Now what can I wear

To go walking out there?

Something dignified might be all right."

"Hmm, you've come in quite lately,

But... I have something stately...

A tuxedo in crisp black and white."

"I'll be a hit at the clubs

With lots of fine grub,"

Thought the penguin with anticipation.

"I've got what to wear,

But how shall I get there?"

He asked, with some consternation.

The God look solemn,

"That might be a problem.

You are some kind of bird,

At least that's what I've heard,"

Said God, just a tiny bit shaken.

"I'd give you some wings,

Or some jumpity things,

But I'm afraid all those things have been taken."

"Oh, that's quite all right

I'm afraid of the heights,"

Said the penguin, his secret let out.

"I can walk, I can trot,

I can swim quite a lot,

And I can even catch fish with my snout."

God beamed with pride,

"I will always provide

If you're patient and don't make a fuss.

You'll look rather snappy,

I hope you'll be happy.

Now what can I find for this platypus?"

Joe and Janice received the "Best Team Effort" award for their joint work; Joe writing, Janice reading.

copyright © 2002 Joe Kenlan

Life of a Penguin

It was a dark and stormy day

At this end of the bay,

Where the penguin, Edwyn,

Made ready to slip in,

That is, the bay.

But a thing lurked on the way

To the outlet end of the bay,

For an orcan eye

Glinted gray beneath the sky,

While hungrily scanning the shore,

For mealtime gore.

And the sea, in the wind, flung its spume, toward the sky, like a whale, gasping air,

And the keen, orcan eye, swept the shore, spying him, posed to swim, TAKE THE DARE...

Edwyn slipped in,

Posing the question:

Would the orca win?

Or the penguin,

That is, Edwyn?

copyright © 2002 Gene McMahon

The Penguin Rap

I’m the coolest animal on this earth

I like the cold from the day of my birth

If you got a problem, you know I can solve it

Check out my fins, and I will let you revolve it

ICE ICE BABY

I don’t have any problems except to say

for some sea lion who wants to eat me one day

You can find me up North so I guess I’m a Yankee

So when I come to the Carolinas, I get a little cranky

You can find me in Antartica, way down South,

Visiting my cousins, running their mouth

While we’re there it’s plenty cold,

so we get together in a penguin hold

ICE ICE BABY

What am I—that’s all I’ve heard

Is he fish, mammal, seal, or bird?

I’ve been in the movies, and I’ve got fans

In case you’ve forgotten, It’s Batman

ICE ICE BABY

I’ve been on TV

At least a thousand times

You would think that I’d committed a crime

But don’t touch that dial

Because it’s all right,

My whole world is

in black and white

ICE ICE BABY

I’m always dressed for formal wear

I don’t need a comb

Cause I don’t have hair

I love to eat fish

I really know how

in the world do you eat cow?

I swim all day

And I really have fun

Then I lay on the rocks

And take in the sun

ICE ICE BABY

I don’t need a wedding

I just need a wife

Once I meet my mate

Then it’s for life

I’m very agile, smart

And not prissy

That’s better than that

Flipper sissy

ICE ICE BABY

You see me in zoos

Whether it’s rainy or sunny

And I see you, your

Mother sure dresses you funny

They named a shirt after me

And that’s so-so

It’s hard to play golf

When you live in H20

ICE ICE BABY

The hockey team

I don’t really understand

How to hold a hockey stick

with no hands?

They tell me that I walk funny

But what I have found

Penguins wobble

But they don’t fall down

This is the end of the penguin rap

Now you can wakeup from your nap

Practice pays. Tanya and Mike received "Best Presentation" for their performance of The Penguin Rap.

copyright 2002 Tanya Haralson

A Certain Shine of Ice

(A terrible abuse of poor Emily's original)

There is a Certain Shine of Ice

Penguins do desire,

Providing limelight for

Their dance of "frozen fire."

A winter glow it gives them,

They dance and prance all night,

The moon provides more beauty,

It is a lovely sight.

One can teach us all of this.

His name, Penguin Astaire,

A genius choreographer,

In the icy winter air.

Winner, Wild Bird Award.

copyright © 2002 Cherie Ernest

The Penguin

Penguin, penguin, freezing white

In Antarctic, where there is no night

What immortal hand or eye

could chain saw you from a Xena tree?

In what distant ice or skies

Did she order all your eyes?

On what wings dare he aspire

What the hand that carved the nonflier?

And what shoulder and what art

Could twist the rotator cuff and make it smart?

And when your heart begins to beat (too much)

How difficult to carve those feet?

What the guide bar? what the chain?

In what ice cube was thy brain?

What the chisel? What dread grasp

Dare its deadly terrors grasp?

When the carver threw down her gear

And watered Moncure with sweat and tears

Did she smile her work to see?

Did she who carved the penguin solicit thee?

Penguin, penguin, painted white

Til the wee hours of the night

What immortal hand or eye

Could chain saw you from a Xena tree?

For reasons known only to herself, the author of The Penguin sees some resemblance between the artist and the fictional character Xena, the Warrior Princess. The author is also privy to concerns regarding the lack of a commercial source for glass penguin eyes (See Current Problems in Penguinology), the late-night stress of preparing birds for a show, and injuries resulting from working with logs and chainsaws.

copyright © 2002 Anonymous

Biker Chick

I met a strange biker in Nome

Who looked like he was far from his home

He was clad all in feathers

more drip-dry than good leathers

When I asked, He said, "I love to roam."

He was decked out in black and white gear

From the top of his head to his rear

When he took off his boots

His feet matched apricoots

They were Bright, like the patch by his ear.

I had noticed those patches before

And I asked him, "Hey, what are those for?"

He said, "I signal turns

With my head--the light burns

Like a bright orange bulb from the store."

He pulled out a blender from Waring

And he stuck in a couple of herring

As it started to whir

My eyes started to blur

And he asked, "Want a milkshake? I'm sharing!"

He looked happy--alert, but dog-tired.

I was curious, and so I inquired.

He grinned over at me,

and said, "Rode sea to sea

The hard way--south to north--and I'm wired.

Left my home at the start of last summer,

I swam north for days! what a bummer!

When I made it to land,

I climbed out on the strand

And I hitch-hidked to town in a hummer.

Came ashore in Tierra del Fuego,

Bought my Harley from Juan de la Vega,

He's got motor bikes,

Cars, trucks, tractors and trikes,

And even one big winnebago.

I rode up the main cordillera

Roads all twisty, but I didn't care-a

With a beautiful view,

Through the mountains I flew,

Up the roads like a bright, holy terror.

I made it to panama's locks

And I looked at the ships in the docks

I thought, Sure like to jump

But that landing would bump

It might jolt me right out of my socks!

When I hit Mexico, I was tooling

Along at a hundred, for cooling,

With this insulation,

That warm, sunny nation,

Went by in a blur, and no fooling.

I rode into southern California

And like, dude, I just gotta warn ya,

That the way that they drive there

It's like they just don't care

If cars shredded and crumpled and torn ya.

I pressed on, to the cool, foggy coast,

That's where homesickness hit me the most

I'd missed Herring till then,

And I found them again,

Did you know that they serve them on toast?

North I rode, up the coast of B.C.

'tween the mountains, fjords led out to sea

Lots of fish, but no krill,

I jumped in, ate my fill

And I sunned on a rock, wild and free.

A sea lion came over to parley.

He said, "Hey, your bike really looks gnarly."

He seemed wistful and sad,

And I thought, that's too bad

They're too clumsy to ride on a Harley.

I pushed on--on into the night.

The stars wheeled overhead, cool and bright.

I'd come far by myself

From home on the ice shelf

And I smiled to myself in delight."

We split up on the shores of the Bering

And he said, "I've got lots of fresh herring."

I asked, "Won't they spoil?"

As he topped off his oil,

He said, "Naah--got a fridge in the Fairing!"

Brian briefly campaigned Biker Chick for "best poem by a boyfriend," but reconsidered when the judge pointed out that award implied competition he might not really want. The judge simply didn't recognize the underlying limerick form until too late (ie, when it was being typed for the web) to acknowledge the structure with a special prize.

copyright © 2002 Brian Dale

William Shakespenguin

Friends! Romans! Fellow Penguins!

I come,

Not to gratify penguins

but to praise them!

For what is a penguin?

A penguin by any other name

would seem as black and white.

To penguin or not to be penguin.

Aye, that's the issue.

'Tis it better to endure the hails and snows of outrageous winter,

Or, taking wing against a sea of ice

end upon a warm and sandy beach?

Hark!

What light yonder shines?

The moon, the southern lights?

No. Some human's headlight

grinding through a frozen night.

What care we for St. Crispan's Day?

those few who stood or those who fled?

The world's a stage and the play's the thing!

In the final act of this life

penguin, man, all are dead.

Better to be black and white than well read.

A late-breaking emergency prevented William Shakespenguin from being read during the party, and hence it did not receive the award it so richly deserved.

copyright © 2002 Blackwell Brogden