Sea Otter Named Sue
Sea Otter, Name is Sue,
Hunting in the ocean blue.
Octopus, Squids, Sea Urchins and Fish,
Cockles, Clams, Crabs and Shellfish.
Smashing with rock on her furry chest,
A meal so tasty, Oh! it is the best.
Back floating, posture, serene reposes,
She eats, plays, She sleeps, dozes.
She mates and gives birth, sea waters,
Baby on back, she trains and nurtures.
Anchor in a forest of kelp,
Swirling seas, a dire need, help.
2000 remained,20th Century distinction,
Hunted to a point of near extinction,
Precious furs, Priced possession,
Hunter, Human, One explanation.
Survival now, protected by law,
200000 now, only one flaw,
Greed driven hunting,
Unscrupulous poaching,
Still rears its ugly head,
Help stop it, dead.
Related quotes
Hunters Lullaby
Your fathers gone a-hunting
Hes deep in the forest so wild
And he cannot take his wife with him
He cannot take his child
Your fathers gone a-hunting
In the quicksand and the clay
And a woman cannot follow him
Although she knows the way
Your fathers gone a-hunting
Through the silver and the glass
Where only greed can enter
But spirit, spirit cannot pass
Your fathers gone a-hunting
For the beast well never cannot bind
And he leaves a baby sleeping
And his blessings all behind
Your fathers gone a-hunting
And hes lost his lucky charm
And hes lost the guardian heart
That keeps the hunter from the harm
Your fathers gone a-hunting
He asked me to say goodbye
And he warned me not to stop him
I wouldnt, I wouldnt even try
song performed by by Leonard Cohen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The hunt for love
By my nature
i am not a hunter.
hunting implies
that killing takes place.
the last thing
i want to do
is to kill something.
is hunting wrong?
not necessarily,
but i think hunting is wrong
for me.
besides, as far as i am concerned
motive makes all the difference.
for example,
i was a hunter once
and didn't even know it.
a certain innocence had taken me
into the snowy woods
one snowy evening.
i was hunting
for someone to love.
little did i know my nonchalance
would lead me to another hunter.
this hunter
was moving cautiously
through the same poetic snowy woods
binding snowflakes into winter dreams.
this hunter was careful
to avoid familiar mantraps
while also hunting for someone to love.
poem by Richard Ilnicki
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Hunters Of Men
HAVE ye heard of our hunting, o'er mountain and glen,
Through cane-brake and forest, — the hunting of men?
The lords of our land to this hunting have gone,
As the fox-hunter follows the sound of the horn;
Hark! the cheer and the hallo! the crack of the whip,
And the yell of the hound as he fastens his grip!
All blithe are our hunters, and noble their match,
Though hundreds are caught, there are millions to catch.
So speed to their hunting, o'er mountain and glen,
Through cane-brake and forest, — the hunting of men!
Gay luck to our hunters! how nobly they ride
In the glow of their zeal, and the strength of their pride!
The priest with his cassock flung back on the wind,
Just screening the politic statesman behind;
The saint and the sinner, with cursing and prayer,
The drunk and the sober, ride merrily there.
And woman, kind woman, wife, widow, and maid,
For the good of the hunted, is lending her aid:
Her foot's in the stirrup, her hand on the rein,
How blithely she rides to the hunting of men!
Oh, goodly and grand is our hunting to see,
In this 'land of the brave and this home of the free.'
Priest, warrior, and statesman, from Georgia to Maine,
All mounting the saddle, all grasping the rein;
Right merrily hunting the black man, whose sin
Is the curl of his hair and the hue of his skin!
Woe, now, to the hunted who turns him at bay!
Will our hunters be turned from their purpose and prey?
Will their hearts fail within them? their nerves tremble, when
All roughly they ride to the hunting of men?
Ho! alms for our hunters! all weary and faint,
Wax the curse of the sinner and prayer of the saint.
The horn is wound faintly, the echoes are still,
Over cane-brake and river, and forest and hill.
Haste, alms for our hunters! the hunted once more
Have turned from their flight with their backs to the shore:
What right have they here in the home of the white,
Shadowed o'er by our banner of Freedom and Right?
Ho! alms for the hunters! or never again
Will they ride in their pomp to the hunting of men!
Alms, alms for our hunters! why will ye delay,
When their pride and their glory are melting away?
The parson has turned; for, on charge of his own,
Who goeth a warfare, or hunting, alone?
The politic statesman looks back with a sigh,
There is doubt in his heart, there is fear in his eye.
Oh, haste, lest that doubting and fear shall prevail,
And the head of his steed take the place of the tail.
Oh, haste, ere he leave us! for who will ride then,
For pleasure or gain, to the hunting of men?
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hunter's Lullaby
Your father's gone a-hunting
He's deep in the forest so wild
And he cannot take his wife with him
He cannot take his child.
Your father's gone a-hunting
In the quicksand and the clay
And a woman cannot follow him
Although she knows the way.
Your father's gone a-hunting
Through the silver and the glass
Where only greed can enter
But spirit
song performed by by Leonard Cohen from Various Positions
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wild F*#$ing Manners
hunting a tiger
big sharp teeth
man-eater
these hunters
big egos, big guns
hunting for survival
need fur and meat to survive
hunting wild game
wild f*#$ing manners
saw lioness and her cubs
on f*#$ing youtube
wild animals is to game theory
as man is to war
primitive yet perfect in movements
stop hunting these majestic creatures
they echo the intelligence we lack
in a far away land called our sub-conscience
only to find our only way to organized life
we're just animals on a hunting ground
poem by Inner Projection
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hunting Humans (Lyrics)
Upon this threshold of disaster
The birth of the eleventh plague
The fires burn at night, I begin to doubt the smell of burning flesh
Will ever fade away
The touch of death is all around us
A thousand corpses block our way
A man-made germ makes almost everyone commit suicide
Just to rise and eat their dead
Night of the living Dead...
We're hunting humans
We're hunting humans
We're hunting humans
It's killing time every evening
I can't control this eerie feeling
An evil screaming in my head
I don't think I'll last the night
There is no cure
For this genocide
Or resurrection of the dead
Night of the living Dead...
We're hunting humans...
poem by Satan's Sibling
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A Brief Short Story: Eve's Historical Mind
All what I inherited is to be a good hunter, eve learned to stay back with the elders and the children in the safe zone. I do not know much about her feelings while she is waiting. I am a hunter, I learned to control my feelings and sharp my mind while crossing the hunting zone.
I want eve to be a hunter too, and to experience the roughness of hunting, all the mystery of wilderness, and what is beyond the unknown.
poem by Atef Ayadi
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The Forest Greeting
GOOD hunting! — aye, good hunting,
Wherever the forests call;
But ever a heart beats hot with fear,
And what of the birds that fall?
Good hunting! — aye, good hunting,
Wherever the north winds blow;
But what of the stag that calls for his mate?
And what of the wounded doe?
Good hunting! — aye, good hunting,
And ah! we are bold and strong;
But our triumph call through the forest hall
Is a brother's funeral song.
For we are brothers ever,
Panther and bird and bear;
Man and the weakest that fear his face,
Born to the nest or lair.
Yes, brothers, and who shall judge us?
Hunters and game are we;
But who gave the right for me to smite?
Who boasts when he smiteth me?
Good hunting! — aye, good hunting,
And dim is the forest track;
But the sportsman Death comes striding on:
Brothers, the way is black.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Otter Hunting In Ribblesdale
Through yon little planting, by yonder streamside,
Where Ribble's sweet waters flow softly and wide,
While the dew's on the meadows it's up and away,
A-hunting the otter at break o' the day.
0 hear the glad music of horn and of hound;
0 hear how they welcome in day with the sound:
0 hear how the valley is loud with the strain
And the woodlands give answer with echo again.
Come rise up full soon, come rise up and go,
The mist's on the hill and the river runs low:
While the dew's on the meadows it's up and away
A-hunting the otter at break o' the day.
Now Ribble, sun-chequered, slides joyfully down
Which late thro' the bridges roared foaming and brown:
Now hot lies the scent, and the morning is still, &mdash
Hark for'ard, good hounds, to a view and a kill!
A health to good fellowship fill we now high,
You true-hearted sportsmen afar and anigh,
Here's many a good chase when the morning is grey,
A-hunting the otter at break o' the day.
poem by Cicely Fox Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Black Market White Baby Dealer
My black market white baby dealer
Is hunting around overseas
My black market white baby dealer
Brings back clean, fresh white babies to me
Clean, fresh white babies to me
My black market white baby dealer
Is rooting around overseas
My black market white baby dealer
Kidnaps clean, fresh white babies for me
Clean, fresh white babies for me
My smile is dime a dozen
My lips are cherry red
My eyes are blue like the sky is blue
I got good shoulders under my head
I look like your mother
I look like your great-aunt
So sit me down in the family photo
And everyone tells me that i, I look just like you
My black market white baby dealer
Is hunting around overseas
My black market white baby dealer
Brings back clean, fresh white babies to me
He brings back
Oh my god, he brings back
He brings back clean, fresh, white expensive babies
He brings back
Oh charlie, he brings back
He brings back clean, fresh, white expensive babies
I come post-production
I dont need natal care
Im already fully assembled
Down to the very last part, its all there
So take me to your family
So take me to your home
Buddy, take me in as your next generation
And Ill take you out of the lost one and into mine
My black market white baby dealer
Is hunting around overseas
My black market white baby dealer
Brings back clean, fresh white babies to me
Clean, fresh white babies to me
Clean, fresh white babies to me
song performed by by Liz Phair
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gulf Aftermath 2
Gulf Aftermath
By Lori Triggs
Copyrighted August 15 2010
BP causes a fire ball disaster from Louisiana to Florida
tar balls with oil streaming about the ocean top,
while tar balls with oil streaming about the ocean bottom.
BP spraying some kind spray to get rid of the oil on top
even on the ocean floor killing everything in it's path marine life,
dolphins with birds found dead in Louisiana to Florida.
Louisiana afraid to fish again because they found clams dead
shrimp is alive, but afraid to fish than eat them
The same goes with the rest of marine life.
Florida afraid to fish again, because of the spray
the only place to swim is inner coastal waters as long it not the ocean,
like alligator point bay, rainbow river, the gulf ocean maybe altantic are not safe.
We cannot answer about the other two states, earth hurts for human error.
poem by Lori Triggs
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hunting Season Is Open
Gun hunting season opens tomorrow morning
my husband is gathering his hunting gear around.
He'll be getting up really early in the morning
way before the break of dawn.
He's trying his special orange hunting cap on
so that he's not mistaken for a deer.
Us wives always worry about that you know
it is one of a hunter's wifes greatest fears.
The weather is suppose to be very cold and rainy
my husband says that is the best weather for hunting in.
Because the deer are on the move much more
then when it's warmer like some recent days have been.
I will say a prayer to our Lord above
asking that He protect all hunters, on this opening day.
And that they all come back with that Buck or Doe their after
and no bullets from their guns shot go astray.
poem by Linda Winchell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dead Stars
dead stars
dead stars
do not shine
they are dead
and the twinklings are
gone
dead stars
all dead
falling to the sea
the moon grieves
stars are
moon's princesses
her diamonds
on her motherly bosom
dead stars
fall to the sea
they refuse
to die
they now live in the sea as starfishes having fallen from the skies
one dark, lonely, evening
of my life
seastars, name them sweetly
but starfishes to the most common fishermen here who make love
to the stinky fish vendors
for once tonight
the moon spreads to a certain fulness of emptiness
trying to hold
seastars
(they are called starfishes by children who smell salt
and rotten sea urchins chasing hemit crabs on the shore
they are burned by the sun
but they already know how to keep themselves safe
they know how to feed themselves
with squids those that sparkle at night in the shallow parts
of the sea)
trying to kiss
them
in fact,
yes the starfishes, all they have are memories of the stars
and they now hide
among the corals and the electric eels
regrets and remorse are always late and they always murmur it to
the oceanfloors
after their fall and no one wants to hear
everyone is busy feeding and escaping away from one another
here in the deeper part of the marine blue seas...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bounty
We meet at last
You thought you were so cleaver
But you have must forgotten
That I'm cleaver just like you
You see I have been hunting you
All of my life and I'm
not going to stop here
I will never stop hunting you
You may think that you lost me
But no you have not
Everytime you look back
I'm right behind you
You can run but you cannot hide
poem by Bethany Williams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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White Babies
My black market white baby dealer
Is hunting around overseas
My black market white baby dealer
Brings back clean, fresh white babies to me
He brings back
Oh my god, he brings back
He brings back clean, fresh, white expensive babies
My smile is dime a dozen
My lips are cherry red
My eyes are blue like the sky is blue
I got good shoulders under my head
I look like your mother
I look like your great-aunt
Sit me down in your family photo
And everyone tells me that i, I look just like you
(I changed this verse for you)
My black market white baby dealer
Is hunting around overseas
My black market white baby dealer
Brings back clean, fresh white babies to me
Clean, fresh white babies to me
Clean, fresh white babies to me
song performed by by Liz Phair
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Constant Struggle
there is this hook, line and
sinker
someone is a fish and he
is caught
the urchins and clams
and octopuses watch helplessly
the fish is this philosophy of
being caught and wanting to be free
you are inside this ocean and
you are this fish
and then you wish to become a man
all your life you feel the fish in there
hook, line and sinker
the fish in you and the man within
in constant struggle
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Exploitation
World will cease to exist and face extinction,
Not to differentiate and make the distinction,
It all hinges on the word exploitation,
Simple logic and need no explanation.
Big fish kills small fish,
Small fished are served in dish,
Human beings want it as wish,
Thus is the end and matter finish,
If potters creation remains intact,
No place will be left on earth in fact,
If all babies survive and not die,
People will have to come in open and lie,
Crowd all over and no space will be left,
Bread will be snatched and increase in theft,
Nothing will be secured and disorder prevail,
No more opportunities and chances avail,
Why rich should bother the poor?
Why do we expect open door?
If we believe in HIM then it is fate,
Opinion to be formed before it is late,
We strongly believe and expect,
World to change and order arrange,
Let every one live happily and manage,
Why then bloodshed and ghastly carnage?
It is cycle that works and move,
No one can stop and no one can remove,
We got to accept the universal law,
It is His creation and has no flaw,
Why one takes birth as king?
Lavish marriage and diamond ring,
Pomp and show with beautiful life,
Luxury at feet and situation rife,
One toils hard but finds no bread,
Life is sustained only on thread,
Death is casual and no one read,
Where survival is question then how to lead?
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ocean Blue
Well you took me home
And you took me back
But deep down inside
The feeling just died and i
Couldnt see why
From indigo to royal blue
I travel far but no one will do
Anytime, anyplace
Every shape every face
Brings memories of you
Blue to be blue
To be blue
Ocean blue
Blue to be blue
To be blue
Ocean blue - ocean blue
Fair weather friends might drift away
When summer ends and skies burn grey
So I walk to the ocean
Pilot these shores
Just thinking of you
Its time we kissed the clouds goodbye
From now on its strictly blue sky
Come rain and shine
The outlook is still fine
Im thinking of you
Blue to be blue
To be blue
Ocean blue
Blue to be blue
To be blue
Ocean blue - ocean blue
Blue to be blue
To be blue
Ocean blue, ocean blue
Ocean blue, ocean blue
Ocean blue, ocean blue
Ocean blue, ocean ocean
Ocean, ocean
Blue to be blue
To be blue
Ocean blue
Blue to be blue
To be blue
Ocean blue - ocean blue
I stand at the head of the queue
Theres mutinys every crew
Wishin and wonderin bout you
Ocean blue
song performed by by Abc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gulf Aftermath
Gulf Aftermath
By Lori Triggs
Copyrighted August 15 2010
BP causes a fire ball disaster from Louisiana to Florida
tar balls with oil streaming about the ocean top,
while tar balls with oil streaming about the ocean bottom.
BP spraying some kind spray to get rid of the oil on top
even on the ocean floor killing everything in it's path marine life,
dolphins with birds found dead in Louisiana to Florida.
Louisiana afraid to fish again because they found clams dead
shrimp is alive, but afraid to fish than eat them
The same goes with the rest of marine life.
Florida afraid to fish again, because of the spray
the president was down here with his family
was swimming in alligator point with his daughter it was not the ocean,
alligator point bay, so he told a lie the waters are not safe.
We cannot answer about the other two states.
Do you trust BP?
Do you trust our government?
Do you trust our president?
poem by Lori Triggs
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There is no hunting like the hunting of man, and those who have hunted armed men long enough and liked it, never care for anything else thereafter.
quote by Ernest Hemingway
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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