A Deer Hunt
Hunter pursuits a white-tailed deer and suddenly it disappears in the thick jungle.
The way back is forgotten and he was left behind.
There live a Widow and a Virgin who were pioneers of the secret forest provide him hospitality.
The hunter doesn't want to white wash and he catches these two birds (huntresses) in one stone.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Related quotes
19th September
I cannot walk properly after the gun shot,
But you were the very hunter who shot my leg.
Your gun shot was aimed at my back like,
A virgin lady without a pot;
For i am now a deer to you.
Your were in the same forest that i was,
Looking for a deer to shoot at and you rather got me;
But i do hope that one day i will walk very well.
I have got my papers in order and i still need your care,
But you came as a hunter to get me down!
And in this wolrd of lovers and haters,
What can i say to this act of yours?
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Lonely Is The Hunter
My eggs in one basket, but she threw me a bone
She was dealt a full deck, but she likes to live alone
Aint just talkin to myself, need a reason to stop (oh yeah)
With a flower in her teeth, she drained the last drop
I said girls love money like bees the honey
But lonely is the hunter, youre my one and only, and lonely is the hunter
Asked her for a refill, sweat flew off my face (oh yeah)
Shes a legendary figure, kept me in a cage
Shes a torture chamber, when I seduced her in my bed (ooh yeah)
She gave a cold reading, success went to her head
In the heat of the battle the heart cannot rule, Im such a fool
But lonely is the hunter, youre my one and only, and lonely is the hunter
Lonely is the hunter, youre my one and only, and lonely is the hunter
Lonely is the hunter, youre my one and only, and lonely is the hunter
Lonely is the hunter, youre my one and only, and lonely is the hunter
song performed by by Kiss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I A Hunter.
I a hunter of life,
I got shot by a hunter with my knife,
I a hunter of death,
A shot just broke my teeth
I a hunter of destiny,
Am afraid mine is taken,
I hunter of happiness,
am afraid mine is darkness
I a hunter of purity,
Putifying isn't my duty,
I a hunter of greatness,
I've just found am the smallest
I hunter of Love,
But am a sparrow not a dove,
and now I've got a message,
A message I, ve meant to receive
Hallow love Thank you,
my mind is holified that is you,
you have made my mind over due,
you made me think about you
SO THANK YOU
poem by Dickson Mseti
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Coventry in November
They say it was a Hunter’s moon
The night the City died
They say it was a hunter’s moon
The day the people cried
They say it was a hunter’s moon
That took our house away
They say it was a hunter’s moon
When the devil came to stay
An ageing now I’d like to know
Won’t someone tell me soon,
Why the reaper came to mow
in the light of the hunter’s moon
poem by Adrian Wait
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Lonely Is The Hunter
There is a thing out there that lives in the dark
Lamented into dust is the crow
A star shining in the sky
In the darkened night
A filling taste it is
Lonely is the hunter in the days
Of them we are
Of they there are none
Two times the rooster crows
In the days of the lonely hunter
Hope dead and cold
Lonely is the hunter
None nearby lonely is the hunter
Tombs filling the heart
Lonely is the hunter
The hunter is he
poem by Alex Fischer
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The Hunter
It dont come easy, thats understood
Faint-hearted loser, thats no good
Just take a lesson from the great mohammed
He said... he said...
Pick up a rifle, you must be strong
To take a title, can be so long
If you believe, you cant go wrong
I said... I said...
Hes a fighter, hes my friend,
Always winning in the end,
Hes no angel, hes no fool,
Never plays it by the rule,
Take the glory, steal the prize,
Only the hunter, only the hunter
You took your chances, you hurt your pride
A sense of failure, is hard to hide
You crossed the limit, you broke the code
Back on the road... remember?
Hes a rival, hes my friend,
Always winning in the end,
Hes a tiger, hes a swan,
Hes the one Im counting on,
To take the glory, steal the prize,
Only the hunter, only the hunter survives
Im on the outside, Im looking in
Through the lenses, then into film
Ive got the target set in my sights
I see a vision of truth... look out!
Were gonna fight until we drop,
Were gonna get back to the top,
Were gonna be the first in line,
Winners till the end of time
Only the hunter, only the hunter,
Only the hunter, only the hunter,
Survives
song performed by by Asia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Romance
MY Love dwelt in a Northern land.
A gray tower in a forest green
Was hers, and far on either hand
The long wash of the waves was seen,
And leagues on leagues of yellow sand,
The woven forest boughs between!
And through the silver Northern night
The sunset slowly died away,
And herds of strange deer, lily-white,
Stole forth among the branches gray;
About the coming of the light,
They fled like ghosts before the day!
I know not if the forest green
Still girdles round that castle gray;
I know not if the boughs between
The white deer vanish ere the day;
Above my Love the grass is green,
My heart is colder than the clay!
poem by Andrew Lang
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The Indian Hunter
When the summer harvest was gathered in,
And the sheaf of the gleaner grew white and thin,
And the ploughshare was in its furrow left,
Where the stubble land had been lately cleft,
An Indian hunter, with unstrung bow,
Looked down where the valley lay stretched below.
He was a stranger there, and all that day
Had been out on the hills, a perilous way,
But the foot of the deer was far and fleet,
And the wolf kept aloof from the hunter's feet.
And bitter feelings passed o'er him then,
As he stood by the populous haunts of men.
The winds of autumn came over the woods
As the sun stole out from their solitudes;
The moss was white on the maple's trunk,
And dead from its arms the pale vine shrunk.
And ripened the mellow fruit hung, and red
Were the tree's withered leaves round it shed.
The foot of the reaper moved slow on the lawn
And the sickle cut down the yellow core--
The mower sung loud by the meadow-side,
Where the mists of evening were spreading wide,
And the voice of the herdsmen came up the lea,
And the dance went round by the greenwood tree.
Then the hunter turned away from the scene,
Where the home of his fathers once had been,
And heard by the distant and measured stroke,
That the woodman hewed down the giant oak,
And burning thoughts flashed over his mind
Of the white man's faith, and love unkind.
The moon of the harvest grew high and bright,
As her golden horn pierced the cloud of white--
A footstep was heard in the rustling brake,
Where the beech overshadowed the misty lake,
And a mourning voice, and a plunge from shore,--
And the hunter was seen on the hills no more.
When years had passed on, by that still lakeside
The fisher looked down through the silver tide,
And there, on the smooth yellow sand displayed,
A skeleton wasted and white was laid,
And 't was seen, as the waters moved deep and slow,
That the hand was still grasping a hunter's bow.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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The Heart May Be A Lonely Hunter
thick grass
a forest of trees
a man lives there
and his heart is the lonely hunter
maybe
and may be for a time
when the grass is thick and the forest of trees lush
there is a time
for opening
for going and going back home
where mother and father keep the waiting
and your one and only
smiling
waiting for the warm embrace
the sad one
thinking always for your coming
back home
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Pheasants? ? ?
I was there in that land beyond the sea
The night was the blackest....that...
It ever could be...
When guns to the left... and... then to the right...
Cut loose... with such chatter...
I came out of my hole... emptying a clip...
Shouting... what the Hell was the matter...
Then with the adrealin in my gut...
And on my back of my neck...
There stood all my hair...
Through the night...till morning...
Turned out...nothing was there
By the early morning light...
My unit started to howl...
The Great White Hunter had been shot...
Because of his late night prowl...
I thought at first he... he...looked like a
Great Horned Owl
Now... as lunch time came...
My unit and I had prepared the feast...
That white ringed neck... owl... pheasant....
We made ready...to eat...
He was surprised...that Great... White... Hunter...
That pheasant laid out...cooked...
Covered with K-Ration butter....
Forty men all had said...look lets..after we feast...
We are very tired...and we'll finally get some sleep...
But to that one...that mighty hunter....
What you shoot...you eat...
You know the rule...it's the code
That unwritten law...in your heart today...it now abodes
Well I...and thirty-eight others...
Ate K-rations...saltines...and drank water...
I can honestly say...I had in my life...No better feast...
But..Brombaugh...Well...he had pheasant... and we made sure
That he ate...every dammed little piece...
The end
Clyde Grant Bryson
poem by Clyde Bryson
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Avalanche-the White Death
The land is white
The name of the land brings you
to the land of nothing
The name is white
The white is dead
Sun shines pale, the land shades full of pain
Avalea doesn't bloom and fall in this drain
I'm going back alive again
But no one's crying for the dead
The land is still white
Ice and snow are still the same as yesterday
But the wind is stronger in the sorrow
The land is white
The white is dead
They weep wherever they blow
Forever love, cursed land
Forever goodbye, my lovely land
No more tears falling in this land
Even the sand doesn't know
why he doesn't round to anywhere
The land has frozen like stone
The air is blowed dead
The land is white
The name is white
The land called white is dead
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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The Hunter's Mind
Awake, awake!
Awake to the morning bowl from last night's food;
Like the fling of a stone that puts the stars into flight.
What has the hunter in the hand?
Awake to the games of the Sultans,
Where the morning glory do call for the hunter;
Awake, awake!
Awake to the facts of life;
Cos', the hunter's gun is ready for action.
Oh no! ! The hunter's eye has caught the Sultans turret,
Like the noose of light to awake nature's call;
Who can satisfy the Sultans?
Like a little pool, so is the hunter's mind;
The hunter's gun is ready for action.
The only man who makes no mistake is,
The man who never does anything;
Awake, awake!
The Sultans turret is in trouble;
Like the noose of light to awake nature's call.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Forgotten River
The forgotten river,
Lonely in the thick forest waitinf for your love;
The forgotten river,
Lovely and nicely prepared for your muse in the thick forest;
But, the big ship has now collided on the high seas! !
Maturiy of character,
Along the coast of Italy! !
But, it is an extraordinary thing that someone recommended for you;
For, i am the forgotten river in the thick forest.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Coming Home had been made before and Apocalypse Now and Deer Hunter, different kinds of movies.
quote by Oliver Stone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lovehunter
(coverdale/moody/marsden)
I need a woman to treat me good
And give me everything a good woman should
Everyday and every night
Shed be waiting on her brown-eyed boy
To come and treat her right
Im a love hunter baby
Sneaking up on you,
Im a love hunter baby
Sneaking up on you
Im gonna give you all my loving
And use my tail on you
In my time Ive been a back door man,
Ive taken everything I could
But, Ive given all I can
I dont want no woman
To weep or moan,
Im looking for a sweet heartbreaker
And Im never gonna leave her alone
Im a love hunter baby
Sneaking up on you,
Im a love hunter baby
What you gonna do?
Im gonna give you all my loving
And use my tail on you
Im a love hunter baby
Sneaking up on you,
Im a love hunter baby
What you gonna do?
Im gonna give you all my loving
And use my tail on you
cos Im a love hunter baby,
Im a love hunter baby...
Im a love hunter baby
Sneaking up on you
Im sneaking up on you!
song performed by by Whitesnake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hunter/Killer
On the twilight of life, the sky shed tears
Knowing too well of what lay ahead
Fate revealed
Pale shadows danced as the night caught fire
No turning back, one glance ahead
What was void now turns to red
Responsiblity discarded
A snake always sheds it's skin
Push away the pain we cause
Live to sin, we are
Hunter/killer
Blinded by our hate, deafened to cries
Hunter/killer
Only one has the right to survive
Hunter/killer
Faith in conviction of lies
When all that's left is a sigh
Then we'll wonder why no one asked why
A truth that cuts deeper than the lies that bind
Souls hardwired to serve one god
Backbone made of fear tranlates to lack of control
Responsiblity discarded
A snake always sheds it's skin
Push away the pain we cause
Live to sin, we are
Hunter/killer
Blinded by our hate, deafened to cries
Hunter/killer
Only one has the right to survive
Hunter/killer
Faith in conviction of lies
When all that's left is a sigh
Then we'll wonder why no one asked why
Torn apart who can we look to for answers?
One more loss will bring is closer to the edge
Unwritten chapter, a final tale
Are we the only one's who cannot comprehend?
Can't you see we've only just begun
No second chance, there's only one
No turning back, what's done is done
Look into the eyes of madmen
Pools of blackness lie beyond
Drowning the soul, drowning cries
Ties that blind, lineage that's last so long
Must be overcome before
Time is revoked, curtains fall
song performed by by Quo Vadis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I think it's because it was an emotional story, and emotions come through much stronger in black and white. Colour is distracting in a way, it pleases the eye but it doesn't necessarily reach the heart.
quote by Kim Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Birds Who Sing The Same Song
Once upon the hunter's lifetime
He entered the forest with his hound
As he waited for animal senses,
He heard the same sound
The sound came from above
It was the sound of birds
Though they were very different,
They had similar words
The birds were of two colors
They were either brown or green
They sang on top of their voices
The song of a queen
First, the hunter watched them sing
He did not understand the words
He set a trap on the tree
And caught some green birds
He brought them home
Thinking he has caught something good
After preparing the meal,
He realizes their meat is not right for food
Again, he watched them sing
He did not understand the words
He set a trap on the tree
And caught brown birds
He brought them home
Thinking the browns would not taste the same
After preparing the meal,
He realizes the meat was worse in the bowl of shame
He now understood the words
And watches them as they sing
The same song, one meaning
A song to get trapped in a ring
The birds sing the same song
A song of the soul
They sing in a competition
They compete for a common goal
They look attractive on the tree
They sing the same song
Understanding their words is the key
They sing the same song
They sound very kind
They sing the same song
They have a motive in mind
They sing the same song
They sing and fly from the leaves to the stem
But the hunter desires none of them
The hunter would now find other creatures
With the best of all features
Because the birds sing the same song
poem by Mark Nyamekye Boadi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Song of the Little Hunter
Ere Mor the Peacock flutters, ere the Monkey People cry,
Ere Chil the Kite swoops down a furlong sheer,
Through the Jungle very softly flits a shadow and a sigh--
He is Fear, O Little Hunter, he is Fear!
Very softly down the glade runs a waiting, watching shade,
And the whisper spreads and widens far and near.
And the sweat is on thy brow, for he passes even now--
He is Fear, O Little Hunter, he is Fear!
Ere the moon has climbed the mountain, ere the rocks are ribbed with light,
When the downward-dipping trails are dank and drear,
Comes a breathing hard behind thee--snuffle-snuffle through the night--
It is Fear, O Little Hunter it is Fear,
On thy knees and draw the bow; bid the shrilling arrow go;
In the empty, mocking thicket plunge the spear!
But thy hands are loosed and weak, and the blood has left thy cheek--
It is Fear, O Little Hunter, it is Fear!
When the heat-cloud sucks the tempest, when the slivered pine-trees fall,
When the blinding, blaring rain-squalls lash and veer,
Through the war-gongs of the thunder rings a voice more loud than all--
It is Fear, O Little Hunter, it is Fear!
Now the spates are banked and deep; now the footless boulders leap--
Now the lightning shows each littlest leaf--rib clear--
But thy throat is shut and dried, and thy heart against thy side
Hammers: Fear, O Little Hunter--this is Fear!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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The Indian Burying Ground
In spite of all the learn'd have said;
I still my old opinion keep,
The posture, that we give the dead,
Points out the soul's eternal sleep.
Not so the ancients of these lands --
The Indian, when from life releas'd
Again is seated with his friends,
And shares gain the joyous feast.
His imag'd birds, and painted bowl,
And ven'son, for a journey dress'd,
Bespeak the nature of the soul,
Activity, that knows no rest.
His bow, for action ready bent,
And arrows, with a head of stone,
Can only mean that life is spent,
And not the finer essence gone.
Thou, stranger, that shalt come this way.
No fraud upon the dead commit --
Observe the swelling turf, and say
They do not lie, but here they sit.
Here still lofty rock remains,
On which the curious eye may trace,
(Now wasted, half, by wearing rains)
The fancies of a older race.
Here still an aged elm aspires,
Beneath whose far -- projecting shade
(And which the shepherd still admires
The children of the forest play'd!
There oft a restless Indian queen
(Pale Shebah, with her braided hair)
And many a barbarous form is seen
To chide the man that lingers there.
By midnight moons, o'er moistening dews,
In habit for the chase array'd,
The hunter still the deer pursues,
The hunter and the deer, a shade!
And long shall timorous fancy see
The painted chief, and pointed spear,
And reason's self shall bow the knee
To shadows and delusions here.
poem by Philip Freneau
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