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My Father Is a Great Hunter
In those days they say
Animals live in the bush
I wish my father can travel go West
To see cat and dog
Antelope and elephant
Tiger and lion
Living in man’s house.
They call them pets
But I don’t understand
While in my continent
Mouse hunts for food
Cat hunts for mouse
Dog hunts for cat
Tiger hunts for dog
And my father hunts for tiger and lion.
My father is a great hunter
Our carpet is zebra crossing
Our bed is tiger coat
Our cloth is lion braveness
The walls of my house
Is made with the beauties of boas
And I am proud to be a hunter’s heir.
poem by Abiodun Adekoya
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bias
even when the lion
smiles at us
we still withhold
confidence
even if the lion is
sincere
and does not think of
evil
like eating all of us
as prey
we always think of
the worst
even if it is just a picture
of the lion
smiling at us
we still suspect
that this can be a trap
another deception
a lion is a lion is a lion
and will always be lion
no matter what
as simple as that
ask the wind
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Missing
Has anybody seen my mouse?
I opened his box for half a minute,
Just to make sure he was really in it,
And while I was looking, he jumped outside!
I tried to catch him, I tried, I tried....
I think he's somewhere about the house.
Has anyone seen my mouse?
Uncle John, have you seen my mouse?
Just a small sort of mouse, a dear little brown one,
He came from the country, he wasn't a town one,
So he'll feel all lonely in a London street;
Why, what could he possibly find to eat?
He must be somewhere. I'll ask Aunt Rose:
Have you seen a mouse with a woffelly nose?
He's just got out...
Hasn't anybody seen my mouse?
poem by Alan Alexander Milne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wife is not a stone flower
A husband is, as it should be, the first
Immigrant of his wife’s flesh.
He believes, as it should be, to be the only migrant to her soul.
A prowling lion in him dies as she turns a stone flower.
When he strokes her chin, his mind wanders elsewhere.
When he disturbs her morning sleep it is for his bed-coffee.
He treats her the way a seasoned priest does the idol.
She is not a deer to a lion, to lie as soulless, listless.
Maybe some prowling lion would step in to plunder her.
Ask her why she takes a libertine,
Whether his are palms or claws,
Whether his fingers fork or hoe, how she,
A mouse, bears him, a lion.
To assuage the world and herself that she is
Not a stone flower, she does so.
21.11.2002
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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a mouse teaches Diogenes
You see Diogenes living in the slums. He lives in a barrel. This is the man even Alexander the Great admires. So it makes you wonder about Diogenes.
So you pretend to be there quite by accident and you ask: “Diogenes…Who was your teacher? ”
“A mouse was my teacher, ” says Diogenes.
You are quite confused. And you say: 'A mouse is your teacher? And how is that, Diogenes? '
“Well, most exquisite Sir, ” says Diogenes to you. “Most cultured Sir, ” he says. “I had no home and I was in the streets. I almost killed myself. Then I saw mouse. Mouse ran around and looked for food and it found some and I observed mouse for over two days. And I realized how resourceful mouse was. And then I said to myself: ‘Learn of the mouse, Diogenes- and all will be well.’ And so I learned of mouse. And every time I have a problem, I simply ask myself: ‘How will mouse solve this? ’ And so mouse became my teacher. And now, most Exquisite Sir, I have a problem. You. I want to get rid of you and I ask myself: ‘How would mouse solve this problem? ’ He would bite…”
You listen to this and you are afraid – and you run. And Diogenes has done well; he has learned well from his teacher. And you can hear him shouting to you: “By the way, who was your teacher? ”
poem by Raj Arumugam
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Dead Lion
Lion died
And dead lion
Came to me crying
Dead lion wanted to know
so many thing about life.
I am not here
To told about
Lion's history
Or geography of the area
Where lion was.
Dead lion
I found within
My house my country
Lion was enchanted
on the scene here
Even after death
That much I knew.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Mouse Is Killed Today
a mouse is killed today
by an artist
who got mad because
the mouse ate his painting
of the nude woman
that evening while he got so furious
the mouse was at his hole
on the floor eating his usual cheese
the artist mumbled and murmured
and grumbled
and the mouse heard it
and called it
slapstick poetry
a doggerel,
the artist was not able to hold his temper
anymore
got an armalite and shot the hole with the mouse in it
in the name of art
the artist invokes his right to kill the mouse
he says it was
' clearly an artistic expression
and protected by the First Amendment.'
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It is little honor to the lion to seize the mouse.
It is better to be the head of a mouse, then the tail of a lion.
No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted.
Aesop in The Lion and the Mouse
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He who killeth the lion when absent feareth a mouse when present.
Lion
LION
A MAN WALKED DOWN A LONELY AVENUE AND SUDDENLY HE SAW A LION! HE RAN OFF SHOUTING AT THE TOP OF HIS VOICE! LION! LION! !
AND A MAN SITTING AT A CORNER KIOSK HEARD HIM SHOUTING LION! LION! ! AS HE RAN PAST THE CORNER KIOSK! WHAT A WAY TO CALL TO THY PET! I ALSO HAVE A DOG NAMED TIGER! STATED THE MAN!
poem by Overlord Don Manuel Ihcakeyno
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I am impelled, not to squeak like a grateful and apologetic mouse, but to roar like a lion out of pride in my profession.
quote by John Steinbeck
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why Are You Gloating?
Why are you gloating?
You look as if you were a mouse,
Who was just awarded...
A lifetime supply of cheese.
'That's almost funny.
No.
But...
Say I 'was' that mouse.'
Okay...
Mouse.
'And that mouse was suspected of stealing cheese.
And those who made the cheese...
Did all they could to find the mouse guilty of the crime.'
Go ahead,
I'm listening.
'And...
The mouse,
Kept telling the makers of cheese...
They actually befriended rats!
And those rats were the culprits of the theft all along.'
I don't get it.
What has that got to do with you?
'You see...
The folks had their eyes focused on the mouse closely.
Under microscope.
Not realizing they socialized and entertained disguised rats.
Masquerading as wholesome folks with undeniable integrity.'
What became the outcome?
'Well...
Not only was the mouse awarded that lifetime of cheese you mentioned.
But efforts long dismissed achieved notoriety for that same mouse.'
Soooo,
'Why' are 'you' gloating?
'Forget it.
Just forget it.'
Hey,
Wait a minute.
Don't get angry with me.
You were the one to bring up the mice and rats in disguise,
Working inside a cheese factory.
Yeah...
That's right.
Walk away.
You need to lay that head down and get some rest.
No wonder I see him smiling all the time.
The dude is nuts!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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