Browse Best World Turtle Day Poetry, we have a special collection of superb, one line and short World Turtle Day Poetry. Get Beautiful World Turtle Day Poetry.
- Ancient chelonians of lineage primeval
Their survival now threatened by man’s upheaval
We gather together to celebrate our perception
Of turtles and their need for preservation and protection
For turtles forever to play their part ecological
To prosper and maintain their diversity biological
For turtle and tortoise, terrapin and kin
Their kind to preserve, their future to win
We must work together, I tell you from the heart
Whether we work together, or apart.
- A Turtle,
So Green Was He,
But Also Blue,
So Nice Was He,
But Also Mean,
So Human Was He,
But Also A Prisoner,
So Free Was He,
But Also A Shell,
- I had cried a sea of tears
And began to drown.
Trashing out, Unheard screams
Bubbles filled my lungs.
I long for safety and a home
Not this empty black cavern that’s sinking very near.
I look up out of desperation
far above my pain.
And then black tears turn purple,
I see a Turtle swimming near.
The sea Turtle I’ve always wanted
I reals all my fear.
I float upward crowned in a bubbling glow
My sea Turtle loves my bubbles.
And away we go.
- You died one day in your little round dish
and my sister found you lying there
when she came to feed you that morning.
Your shell had softened, I believe.
That can happen to little turtles,
bought from the department store.
I hope you didn’t hate your name too much.
She just liked the sound of it, dear Bing.
She never called you der Bingle.
You were a quiet little pet
and gave my sister pleasure.
Now it’s your day.
Hope somewhere you know that.
- I am a turtle
I live in a shell
through all the cold weather
its treated me well
I am a turtle
I dont move very fast
i walk down the path
I see rabbits run past
I am a turtle
Im old and im wise
I see a whole world
out in front of my eyes
I am a turtle
Im happily green
if you are a turtle you know what I mean
I am a turtle
- A painted turtle carries eggs
to plant in warm sand
in this her time,
as mother did,
and her great- and greats-
stretched back deep
into the spiral dark
long before the dinosaurs.
Her features are fixed, but
if we see expression there,
it’s of a mother implacable
knowing none of the above
but knowing this is her time.
- “She, Our Turtle Home.”
Through the dark heavens She carries us.
Darkness does not blind us.
Between the bright stars She carries us.
Their brilliant fire does not burn us.
Past many strange planets She carries us.
Their heavy gravity does not weight us.
Through the endless centuries She carries us.
Time does not end us.
Beside Her sweet waters She carries us.
Thirst does not dry us.
Among her green jungles She carries us.
Hunger does not ache us.
Joyfully and eternally She carries us.
No burden does She see us.
Blessed by Her generous love are we.
- Down among the water-weeds,
Darting through the grass,
Round about the tasseled reeds,
See the minnows pass!
See the little turtles there,
Hiding, half asleep,
Tucked in tangled mosses where
tiny crayfish creep!
Watch the trailing grasses string
Strands of purple shells
That the lazy ripples ring,
Sweet as silver bells;
Watch the sunshine sift and drift
Down the eddy whirls,
Whence the laden whiteweeds lift
Loads of blossom pearls;
While the limpid shadows slip
Softly in between,
And the pussy-willows dip
Lightly in the green
Of the mocking trees that grow
Down the water-sky,
Flecked with fleecy clouds that blow
Where the reed-birds fly.
- Let me tell you a story
about a turtle named Terrell
He had a knack for walking slow
as you can tell,
He was all of ninety years
for ninety years he walked
And never once had to sleep
in someone else’s hotel
He had a painted shell
half-round colored and true
From where he poked
his head to view
The things around him
even the fox that stranger
Out came his head eyes ready
focused for danger.
The birds would pick on his shell,
’twas very irritating
They would never even let
him get some sleep,
The bear and wolf would
pick him up contemplating
A quick supper
they’d hope to reap.
- The day has not come
when from sloughs, the great salamander
lumbers through snow, salt, and fire
to be with him, throws the hatchet
of its head through the door of the three-room house
and eats the blue roses that are peeling off the walls.
Uncle Ray, drunk for three days
behind the jagged window
of a new government box,
drapes himself in fallen curtains, and dreams that the odd
beast seen near Cannonball, North Dakota,
crouches moaning at the door to his body. The latch
is the small hook and eye.
of religion. Twenty nuns
fall through clouds to park their butts
on the metal hasp. Surely that
would be considered miraculous almost anyplace,
but here in the Turtle Mountains
it is no more than common fact.
but he can’t shrug them off. He is looking up
dark tunnels of their sleeves,
and into their frozen armpits,
or is it heaven? He counts the points
of their hairs like stars.