Ducks
(To E.M., Who drew them in Holzminden Prison)
I
From troubles of the world I turn to ducks,
Beautiful comical things
Sleeping or curled
Their heads beneath white wings
By water cool,
Or finding curious things
To eat in various mucks
Beneath the pool,
Tails uppermost, or waddling
Sailor-like on the shores
Of ponds, or paddling
- Left! Right! - with fanlike feet
Which are for steady oars
When they (white galleys) float
Each bird a boat
Rippling at will the sweet
Wide waterway ...
When night is fallen you creep
Upstairs, but drakes and dillies
Nest with pale water-stars.
Moonbeams and shadow bars,
And water-lilies:
Fearful too much to sleep
Since they've no locks
To click against the teeth
Of weasel and fox.
And warm beneath
Are eggs of cloudy green
Whence hungry rats and lean
Would stealthily suck
New life, but for the mien
The hold ferocious mien
Of the mother-duck.
II
Yes, ducks are valiant things
On nests of twigs and straws,
And ducks are soothy things
And lovely on the lake
When that the sunlight draws
Thereon their pictures dim
In colours cool.
And when beneath the pool
They dabble, and when they swim
And make their rippling rings,
0 ducks are beautiful things!
But ducks are comical things:-
As comical as you.
Quack!
They waddle round, they do.
They eat all sorts of things,
And then they quack.
By barn and stable and stack
They wander at their will,
But if you go too near
They look at you through black
Small topaz-tinted eyes
And wish you ill.
Triangular and clear
They leave their curious track
In mud at the water's edge,
And there amid the sedge
And slime they gobble and peer
Saying 'Quack! quack!'
III
When God had finished the stars and whirl of coloured suns
He turned His mind from big things to fashion little ones;
Beautiful tiny things (like daisies) He made, and then
He made the comical ones in case the minds of men
Should stiffen and become
Dull, humourless and glum,
And so forgetful of their Maker be
As to take even themselves - quite seriously.
Caterpillars and cats are lively and excellent puns:
All God's jokes are good - even the practical ones!
And as for the duck, 1 think God must have smiled a bit
Seeing those bright eyes blink on the day He fashioned it.
And he's probably laughing still at the sound that came out of its bill!
poem by Frederick William Harvey
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Related quotes
Ducks Are Such Fun
Ducks on the pond a delightful sight,
Pretty and beautiful,
this warm summer night.
Moonbeams dancing and playing,
watch the ducks' antics too.
Swimming and diving and
splashing to the beautiful
Full moon in view.
As the morning breaks
breakfast will be served.
They heed my call and
answer, Quack, Quack, Quack.
poem by Florence Weaver
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Duck! Don't Stick Your Neck Out
How many quacks does a quack quack quack
before he ducks for fish?
How many ducks does a quack quack duck
before his fish is fished?
How many geese's goose is cooked
because they ate up all the fish?
How many cooks cook geese
before their goose is cooked?
How many fowl fall foul
of fowl hunting cooks?
How many fowls' geese are cooked
before they flew from a foul hunting cook?
How many ducks' goose is cooked
because he didn't duck duck duck
when a fowl cook reached for his neck?
poem by David Taylor
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By The Pond In Shade
She sat down with you
by the pond
the summer heat
and dragonflies
skimming across
the water's skin
and the odd duck or so
setting down there
and she said
I want to have kids one day
and be a good mother
and make my kids happy
and meet their needs
and not be a moaning mum
like my own
and you looked at her
taking your eyes off
the ducks and dragonflies
and letting them rest
upon her face
and wondered how Rubens
would catch her
or maybe Renoir
and you said
I'm sure you will some day
and they'll be lucky kids
and maybe you won't moan
or chide too much
and then silence
as you swam over
her features
her eyes
her nose
her rose kissed cheeks
the way she sat
her elbows on her knees
the summer skirt
showing a little thigh
and she said
pointing to the water
we used to swim in there
when we were young
before mother caught us
with that Barber boy
but it was fun
and innocent
but she never saw things
that way
and then she smiled at you
and you said
wish we could go swim there
like that today
while the sun's out
and the dragonflies
are skimming
and the ducks are here
but she just shook her head
and laughed
and ducks flew off
but dragonflies stayed
where you sat with her
by the pond
in cool of shade.
poem by Terry Collett
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Go Ducks!
Ducks are fast and ducks will win,
Once you're a duck, you're not human again,
You are a football machine,
You learn how to bite back, and get mean!
And once you quack,
You never go back!
poem by Jade Blaydes
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Ducks On The Wall
After dinner norman becomes depressed.
Star:
Normans office got on my nerves to-day.
Wife:
What do you mean? you are norman!
Star:
(shouts) I am a star!
Wife:
Youre not a star norman. youre
Just a plain ordinary little bloke and
Even if you walked down the street in
A silver suit people still wouldnt
Recognise you. youre dull, ordinary
And uninteresting! youre a drag!
Star rises from his chair and smashes
The dinner plates to the floor.
Star:
I hate this house and I hate you, but
More than anything else I hate those
Ducks!
Wife:
Dont you touch those ducks norman!
They were a present from my mother.
Look, norman, Ive had enough of you
And your ridiculous fantasies. first of
All you wanted to be a painter, then
You wanted to be an astronaut, then
A footballer and now youre playing at
Being a rock singer. if you touch those
Ducks Im leaving!
Ducks on the wall
My babys got the most deplorable taste,
But her biggest mistake
Is hanging over the fireplace.
Shes got ducks, ducks on the wall,
Ducks, ducks, hanging on the wall.
My ladys got a sort of strange fascination,
An obsessive fixation
For cheap decorations
Shes got ducks, ducks on the wall.
Ducks, ducks, hanging on the wall.
Wo-wo-wo I love her so but if she doesnt move the ducks,
I think my mind is gonna go.
Ducks ducks on the wall.
Ducks ducks, hanging on the wall.
I leave the office and I want to relax.
Dont want to stare at a wall
And look at a duck that cant quack.
I love you baby but I cant fall
For those ducks on the wall.
I start to snuggle up and squeeze her so tight.
Then out of the corner of my eye
I see those ducks in flight.
I love you baby but I cant ball
When I see those ducks on the wall.
Wo-wo-wo I can sit through your gossip and your soap opera shows,
But those ducks have got to go.
I love you baby but I cant ball
When I see those ducks on the wall.
And when I went to a cocktail party
With the bores next door,
What was the first thing that I saw?
Ducks, ducks on the wall.
Ducks, ducks hanging on the wall.
My babys got the most deplorable taste,
But her biggest mistake
Is hanging over the fireplace.
Shes got ducks, ducks on the wall,
Ducks, ducks hanging on the wall.
Ill sit and look at all the soap operas with her
Ill play all the panel games and watch all the quiz shows,
But those ducks theyve got to go,
Those ducks are getting up my nose.
If those ducks can fly, well so can i.
And if those ducks have got to stay
Then Im going to fly away.
I love you baby but I cant ball
When I see those ducks on the wall.
Ducks, ducks, ducks on the wall.
Ducks, ducks, ducks on the wall.
Oh those ducks on the wall are beginning to move
Theyre talking to me
Ive got to get away from those ducks.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Even Those Paid to Be Biased
People are awakening to realize,
They've been played.
Even those paid to be biased,
To spy on others...
Find they've been set up,
To sit and quack like feathered ducks.
Eyes all over the place,
Are opening wide to see...
Exactly who those victims are.
And recognizing everyday,
The identity of the wolves.
And knowing they've been branded as sheep.
People are awakening to realize,
They've been played.
Even those paid to be biased,
To spy on others...
Find they've been set up,
To sit and quack like feathered ducks.
And the ones who tremble and shake in their limousines,
Find they feel desperate not to be revealed, caught or seen.
Afraid their deceiving and greedy days,
Rapidly lose in snob appeal and popularity.
And in their social circles they sweat, yes!
All of them are suffering in nervous regret!
People are awakening to realize,
They've been played.
Even those paid to be biased,
To spy on others...
Find they've been set up,
To sit and quack like feathered ducks.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Objectified
All beautiful things meet their demise
Flowers in bloom surely will die
Frozen are the wings of the dead butterfly
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
All beautiful things meet their demise
Clouds of gray spoil the light of the skies
The ocean must fall in order to rise
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
All beautiful things meet their demise
I knew I was doomed when you first said, “Hi.”
Two ships in the night, we were bound to collide
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
All beautiful things meet their demise
Four months can pass in the blink of an eye
We lose ourselves without having to try
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
All beautiful things meet their demise
The simplest words become hard to define
You can’t see the truth when you cover your eyes
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
All beautiful things meet their demise
Your pay the price to take this ride
Slowly, you find that you’re living a lie
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
All beautiful things meet their demise
Pictures of us will fade over time
We become strangers in a world so wide
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
All beautiful things meet their demise
You’ll keep on searching for what you won’t find
You’ll lose your faith while I lose my mind
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
All beautiful things meet their demise
Sometimes your morals get left behind
It will be too late when you realize
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
poem by Vaida Marea
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Ducks of Equality
Dark brown-black ducks
splish-splash and
pitter-patter on
gently rocking waves
of glee
When a light gray-white duck
tip-taps and
tip-toes
shyly shivering
'May I join? ' quacks he.
The dark brown-black ducks
easily accept
the light gray-white duck
as one of their own
and joyfully they swim and play
In chilly water
'til they're freezing to the bone
And I wonder:
Why can't America be
more like the
dark brown-black ducks
and the
light gray-white duck
floating on the waves
of acceptance and equality?
poem by Charlotte Riddle
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The Muscovy Duck
The rooster is a brainless dude, although he sports a crest,
The hen’s an awful fool we know, though hen-eggs are the best;
She’ll flutter, cackling, anywhere save through a gate or door,
And try to hatch a door-knob, too, for forty days or more.
The turkey is of small account, we’ll let it go in peace,
And other fowls are ornaments, and geese are simply geese;
But over all that cackle, hiss, or gobble, quack, or cluck,
My favourite shall always be the quaint Muscovy duck.
I’m fond of Mrs Muscovy, I think she knows the most
Of all the different kinds of fowls that poultry-breeders boast.
She knows best how to build her nest when laying time is past,
And you should see the knowing pride with which she sets at last.
She waddles out for food and drink—she’s not afraid of us,
And if we fix her now and then she doesn’t make a fuss;
No frantic flaps of useless wings, no cackle, hiss, nor cluck,
She’s queen of all philosophers—the quaint Muscovy duck.
It is a wondrous thing to see, and a wondrous thing to tell,
Her ducklings know as much as ducks the day they leave the shell.
That she is proud as proud can be, is plain to any dunce—
The little ducklings set to work to grow up ducks at once;
And, on a sunny winter’s day, ’tis a good thing for the eyes
To see her waddle round and watch her ducklings catching flies,
I love her for her waddle, and her patience, and her pluck,
Her wag of tail and nod of head—the quaint Muscovy duck.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Rainy Days at the Apartment
Rainy days are special times...
The clouds wash the sky clear
and perfect moments trail them,
consuming me...
\The sky is the perfect shade of gray,
a clean and cool color.
The world is subdued around me...
holding its breath as the drizzle coats it
\One of the lovely things about rainy days,
my cats will not wander far outside.
So I can leave the door open to the world
and listen to the gentle whisper
of rain on poured stone.
\Even the noise of traffic seems lessened
and the birds all huddle in their places
even ducks...Yes I said ducks.
\A mallard and a female stand together
at the edge of the apartment pool
wanting nothing more than to be left alone
until they decide this place is too lonely.
poem by Poet Dragon
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New Year's morning
New Year's morning:
the ducks on the pond
quack and quack.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Kobayashi Issa
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My shoes and my duck
My shoes and I are quite good friends you see
Often they have chats with me
They tell me things doesn’t matter when
Day or night
They ask me please to lace right
Tell me how to wear them right
I have many pair but only one do I love
They are blue and white
Just like the morning and its dove
That flies around with all their might
My shoes fight in my closet in the black of night
Over which one I will ware on my bike
But I can never forget my duck
To which I can always turn to trust
My friend that is always there
Telling me no lies
And awaiting my return home
From my eight hour chore
My duck can’t swim
my duck can’t quake
My duck just sinks
with a rock on his back
My duck can’t cry
my duck can’t sing
my duck just cant do anything
My ducks no duck and I know why
my duck is stuffed
my duck can’t fly...
I love my duck
Can’t you see why
So in the end
I wouldn’t trade my shoes for any red bull
Or my duck for any frog
Even though one might give me wings
Or one might make noise now and again
I love my blue shoes and my stuffed duck
P.S. the Saint helped me write parts of this, so I owe him a thank you, and just so you all know not all mine.
poem by Mrs. Cynosure
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Old Snake-Doctor
Once I found an ant-lion's hole
And an ant-lion in it: nippers
Like a pair of rusty clippers.
And I saw a red ant roll
In its pit, and, quick as Ned,
This old ant-lion fanged its head,
Held it till the ant was dead.
II.
And I told my father: he
Smiled and said, 'He beats the dickens,
With his pinchers; even chickens
Have n't his voracity.
Think now what he would have done
Had you been an ant, my son,
Fallen in that pit like one.
III.
'Daniel in the lion's den!
Guess you'd come home good and gory.
But now here's another story:
You should see these ant-lions when
They have wings; and, blue and green,
Ponds and pools they fly between:
Prettiest things I've ever seen.
IV.
'Look just like the dragonflies;
And perhaps they are snake-feeders;
Name you'll never find in Readers
Read at school: but, I surmise,
Dragonflies are not the same
As these old snake-doctors; name
For which I am not to blame.
V.
'Who's to blame then? If it's not
I or, say, the dictionary,
Since we two seem so contráry,
Must be that old ant-lion what
Can't content itself, that's plain,
With its bug-estate; remain
Just a bug in sun and rain.
VI.
'Has to get himself new clothes!
Gauzy wings that shine and glitter;
Something that he thinks is fitter
His profession, I suppose,
Doctoring things, like water-snakes;
Finery that often takes
Eyes of hungry ducks and drakes:
VII.
'And of fishes, too, the fool.
Who his coat so bright and brassy,
Mirrored in the waters glassy,
Leap for, drag into the pool.
Old snake-doctor, flaunt your fill!
Feed the snakes or cure or kill
In the end you pay the bill.'
poem by Madison Julius Cawein
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At Katibawasan
It is not true
that all things
are born
in warmth.
A strong stem
of white water
plunges into
a corner of
the emerald pool.
My arms are
outstretched
pale greeen
beneath
the water.
Swallows crush
their wings
against
the water's surface.
And I am in the
grip
of some
nameless ecstasy,
emerging from
water
cold
as ice.
poem by Justine Camacho Tajonera
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Some Things I Know
(burton collins/sally barris)
Theres some things I know to be true
Snow is white and the ocean is blue
Rain is wet when it falls from the sky
And the stars come out every night
And just as sure as the sun will rise
The love is real you see in my eyes
Plant a seed and it will grow
Some things I know
Theres some things in life I need
Water to drink, air to breathe
A place to rest when I need sleep
When Im hungry, food to eat
As sure as I need the lord above
Thats how much I need your love
I need shelter from the cold
Some things I know
Theres some things in life I want
A house with a porch, trees out front
Someone to talk with, someone to hold
And walk with as we grow old
And I want all my dreams to come true
And I want them all with you
And I just had to tell you so
Some things I know
Theres some things I know to be true
song performed by by Lee Ann Womack
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Banyan Tree
O you shaggy-headed banyan tree standing on the bank of the pond,
have you forgotten the little chile, like the birds that have
nested in your branches and left you?
Do you not remember how he sat at the window and wondered at
the tangle of your roots and plunged underground?
The women would come to fill their jars in the pond, and your
huge black shadow would wriggle on the water like sleep struggling
to wake up.
Sunlight danced on the ripples like restless tiny shuttles
weaving golden tapestry.
Two ducks swam by the weedy margin above their shadows, and
the child would sit still and think.
He longed to be the wind and blow through your resting
branches, to be your shadow and lengthen with the day on the water,
to be a bird and perch on your topmost twig, and to float like
those ducks among the weeds and shadows.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Itchycoo Park
[Originally by Small Faces]
Over bridge of sighs
To rest my eyes in shades of green
Under dreamin' spires
To Itchycoo Park, that's where I've been
What did you do there?
I got high
What did you feel there?
Well I cried
But why the tears there?
I'll tell you why
It's all too beautiful
It's all too beautiful
It's all too beautiful
It's all too beautiful
I feel inclined to blow my mind
Get hung up feed the ducks with a bun
They all come out to groove about
Be niceand have fun in the sun
Tell you what I'll do (what will you do?)
I'd like to go there now with you
You can miss out school (won't that be cool)
Why go to learn the words of fools?
What will we do there?
We'll get high
What will we touch there?
We'll touch the sky
But why the tears then?
I'll tell you why
It's all too beautiful
It's all too beautiful
It's all too beautiful
It's all too beautiful
I feel inclined to blow my mind
Get hung up feed the ducks with a bun
They all come out to groove about
Be nice and have fun in the sun
It's all too beautiful
It's all too beautiful
It's all too beautiful
Ha! It's all too beautiful
song performed by by Quiet Riot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Maker of Heaven and Earth (All Things Bright and Beautiful)
All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful,
The Lord God made them all.
Each little flower that opens,
Each little bird that sings,
He made their glowing colours,
He made their tiny wings.
The rich man in his castle,
The poor man at his gate,
God made them, high or lowly,
And ordered their estate.
The purple-headed mountain,
The river running by,
The sunset, and the morning,
That brightens up the sky;
The cold wind in the winter,
The pleasant summer sun,
The ripe fruits in the garden,
He made them every one.
The tall trees in the greenwood,
The meadows where we play,
The rushes by the water,
We gather every day;--
He gave us eyes to see them,
And lips that we might tell,
How great is God Almighty,
Who has made all things well.
poem by Cecil Frances Alexander
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New Friends (Ducks)
I recently went to the small town of Arundel,
And visited the Wildfowl and Wetlands Trust.
I spent a relaxing few hours there strolling around.
If you haven’t already been, then you simply must.
After a while of strolling around,
I sat down to relax on a bench.
There were ducks under and around me,
Who had settled down and seemed quite content.
I sat watching tourists being taken
On a boat trip around the reed beds.
I was happy enough to sit watching the ducks:
Some, as they rested and some as they fed.
Sat there, I reached into my bag for a snack,
And, suddenly, dozens of pairs of eyes were on me.
The ducks dared to venture a little closer,
And made it obvious that they were extremely hungry.
I did feel rather guilty and apologized to them,
But there’s notices saying not to feed the ducks.
So, I very respectfully obeyed the rule,
Although, I suspect they think that rule really sucks!
As I strolled around the extensive site,
I could hear webbed feet following in my wake.
Another give away to the identity of my pursuers,
Was that I heard the quacking sound which ducks make.
But, when I turned round to look at them,
They panicked and quickly ran away.
It was if they were asking me,
‘Are you accusing us of following you? No way! ’
I turned away from them and carried on,
And the sound of slapping feet began again.
It made me smile at the apparent disinterest,
Which my pursuers were badly trying to feign.
I especially liked watching the diving ducks,
Who dive underwater, completely out of sight.
It’s usually many seconds before they reappear,
And bob back up into the daylight.
I enjoyed my trip to the nature reserve,
And I made new friends, albeit only for a while.
But I will always remember their funny antics,
And the fact that they managed to make me smile.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Mental case
I'm a mental case I know I am
The world is square and not round
Ducks ‘cluck' and Chickens ‘quack'
I wish the world could be turned back
Life could be ‘simples' I hear Meerkats say
But for whom - not me - not you
Let's get it together before we fall apart
We have only one life so where do we start?
Life is for living, nothing else will do
Except if the world was perfect
I would name it after me if not you.
poem by JeanJacques Evendon
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