Kaa’s Hunting
His spots are the joy of the Leopard: his horns are the Buffalo’s pride.
Be clean, for the strength of the hunter is known by the gloss of his hide.
If ye find that the bullock can toss you, or the heavy-browed Sambhur can gore;
Ye need not stop work to inform us: we knew it ten seasons before.
Oppress not the cubs of the stranger, but hail them as Sister and Brother,
For though they are little and fubsy, it may be the Bear is their mother.
‘There is none like to me !’ says the Cub in the pride of his earliest kill;
But the jungle is large and the Cub he is small. Let him think and be still.
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Hunting Song of the Seeonee Pack
As the dawn was breaking the Sambhur belled
Once, twice, and again!
And a doe leaped up -- and a doe leaped up
From the pond in the wood where the wild deer sup.
This I, scouting alone, beheld,
Once, twice, and again!
As the dawn was breaking the Sambhur belled
Once, twice, and again!
And a wolf stole back -- and a wolf stole back
To carry the word to the waiting Pack;
And we sought and we found and we bayed on his track
Once, twice, and again!
As the dawn was breaking the Wolf-pack yelled
Once, twice, and again!
Feet in the jungle that leave no mark!
Eyes that can see in the dark -- the dark!
Tongue -- give tongue to it! Hark! O Hark!
Once, twice, and again!
His spots are the joy of the Leopard: his horns are the Buffalo's pride --
Be clean, for the strength of the hunter is known by the gloss of his hide.
If ye find that the Bullock can toss you, or the heavy-browed Sambhur can gore;
Ye need not stop work to inform us; we knew it ten seasons before.
Oppress not the cubs of the stranger, but hail them as Sister and Brother,
For though they are little and fubsy, it may be the Bear is their mother.
"There is none like to me!" says the Cub in the pride of his earliest kill;
But the Jungle is large and the Cub he is small. Let him think and be still.
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Tiger--Tiger!
What of the hunting, hunter bold?
Brother, the watch was long and cold.
What of the quarry ye went to kill?
Brother, he crops in the jungle still.
Where is the power that made your pride?
Brother, it ebbs from my flank and side.
Where is the haste that ye hurry by?
Brother, I go to my lair to die!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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The Law of the Jungle
Now this is the Law of the Jungle -- as old and as true as the sky; And the Wolf that shall keep it may prosper, but the Wolf that shall break it must die. AAs the creeper that girdles the tree-trunk the Law runneth forward and back --
For the strength of the Pack is the Wolf, and the strength of the Wolf is the Pack.
Wash daily from nose-tip to tail-tip; drink deeply, but never too deep;
And remember the night is for hunting, and forget not the day is for sleep.
The Jackal may follow the Tiger, but, Cub, when thy whiskers are grown,
Remember the Wolf is a Hunter -- go forth and get food of thine own.
Keep peace withe Lords of the Jungle -- the Tiger, the Panther, and Bear.
And trouble not Hathi the Silent, and mock not the Boar in his lair.
When Pack meets with Pack in the Jungle, and neither will go from the trail,
Lie down till the leaders have spoken -- it may be fair words shall prevail.
When ye fight with a Wolf of the Pack, ye must fight him alone and afar,
Lest others take part in the quarrel, and the Pack be diminished by war.
The Lair of the Wolf is his refuge, and where he has made him his home,
Not even the Head Wolf may enter, not even the Council may come.
The Lair of the Wolf is his refuge, but where he has digged it too plain,
The Council shall send him a message, and so he shall change it again.
If ye kill before midnight, be silent, and wake not the woods with your bay,
Lest ye frighten the deer from the crop, and your brothers go empty away.
Ye may kill for yourselves, and your mates, and your cubs as they need, and ye can;
But kill not for pleasure of killing, and seven times never kill Man!
If ye plunder his Kill from a weaker, devour not all in thy pride;
Pack-Right is the right of the meanest; so leave him the head and the hide.
The Kill of the Pack is the meat of the Pack. Ye must eat where it lies;
And no one may carry away of that meat to his lair, or he dies.
The Kill of the Wolf is the meat of the Wolf. He may do what he will;
But, till he has given permission, the Pack may not eat of that Kill.
Cub-Right is the right of the Yearling. From all of his Pack he may claim
Full-gorge when the killer has eaten; and none may refuse him the same.
Lair-Right is the right of the Mother. From all of her year she may claim
One haunch of each kill for her litter, and none may deny her the same.
Cave-Right is the right of the Father -- to hunt by himself for his own:
He is freed of all calls to the Pack; he is judged by the Council alone.
Because of his age and his cunning, because of his gripe and his paw,
In all that the Law leaveth open, the word of your Head Wolf is Law.
Now these are the Laws of the Jungle, and many and mighty are they;
But the head and the hoof of the Law and the haunch and the hump is -- Obey!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Leopard Sunset
The leopard lingered in the sun
Almost at close of day,
With all its hours almost done
And fast to ebb away...
The leopard let his memories
Remind him now and then,
Because he knew each day must cease
When moonlight shone again.
This day had seen new life, new death,
That's how time passes by...
We understand while we draw breath
Until our final sigh...
The leopard knew his time was near,
Just like the sun above,
Yet leopards are not prone to fear,
That's why they still share love...
His cubs were waiting down below,
As he watched like a king...
To see time like a river flow
To outlive everything...
Some day his cubs would watch in turn,
As their cubs played a while...
With each new day something to learn...
Some joy to raise a smile...
(July 2011/The poem is based on the
magnificent painting by Stephen Gayford
called 'Leopard Sunset'.)
poem by Denis Martindale
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Brother, I remember the old games we play
Hide and seek on evenings when mother is busy
Before we sleep
It is you who knows to hide so well
And I cannot always find you
You win
I lose and you take pride of your skill
In hiding away
There was this time in our lives
When we both hid
And fought and stood on some idealisms
Like rocks against the sea
Like towers standing against cyclones
Like the tree against the winds of
Change,
I failed, I hid and fought and I was caught
To this renewal
But you brother has fought hard enough and
Hides with all the skill you have
They never found you
We never found you
Come out brother now, in peace
Mama is dead; there is no use of these fights
Times have changed
Our thoughts have become useless
Come out, brother now,
The land is finally ours
We shall start to clean and plow.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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What Is Fancy?
SISTER.
I am to write three lines, and you
Three others that will rhyme.
There-now I've done my task.
BROTHER.
Three stupid lines as e'er I knew.
When you've the pen next time,
Some question of me ask.
SISTER.
Then tell me, brother, and pray mind,
Brother, you tell me true:
What sort of thing is fancy?
BROTHER.
By all that I can ever find,
'Tis something that is very new,
And what no dunces can see.
SISTER.
That is not half the way to tell
What fancy is about;
So pray now tell me more.
BROTHER.
Sister, I think 'twere quite as well
That you should find it out;
So think the matter o'er.
SISTER.
It's what comes in our heads when we
Play at 'Let's-make-believe,'
And when we play at 'Guessing.'
BROTHER.
And I have heard it said to be
A talent often makes us grieve,
And sometimes proves a blessing.
poem by Charles Lamb
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Sisters And Brothers
I wish I had a sister, who would be there all the time
I wish I had a brother, who would be all mine
I wish I wasnt alone anymore just as I am
so mabey I need to take a stand
all I have is my mother.
My sister and brother are both gone
not one of them here when I get home
sometimes not even my mother
I have to have a sister or brother.
My sister and brother both are gone
but they wont be alone for long
for even though I never saw them from the start
they will always be here in my heart.
poem by jamika Eichelberger
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Pride!
All I have left is my pride.
But a shield, yet a buoy.
Keeps me afloat against vice,
Against your spite that annoy.
My pride; a protective pride,
Affords me dignity's joy-
When you want to stomp my might,
When you want to stop my force.
It is my pride that clears my sight.
Thus leave me to my proud course.
Lest you feel my wrath ever fierce.
My pride, the only dignity I know.
Only wall between trodden tears;
The defender of weak, helpless souls,
Those looking upon the rich with fear.
Pride; the bold titanium shield of sorts.
Blocking the piercing stares and jeers.
Unseen strength that can't be stopped.
Can't be broken; is my pride here.
poem by Real Wordz
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The Searching One
Does our own faith kill us is what we ask
come Halloween you hide behind a mask
or is the truth that we hold our true task
another story about two people
questioning if love makes us all equal
can a true heart be the mother of pride
not to stop but to comfort ones that tried
can religions be let be and still bind
and can the one who is searching now find.
poem by Daniel McCann
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Lion's Roar
In the jungle, a lion's roar,
Loud rumbling from it's core.
Magnificent mane of golden brown,
He is a king but wears no crown.
Predator and enemy they have two,
Human hunters, Hyenas too.
The lion and his lioness pride,
If you cross them, run, don't hide.
The roar of a Lion,
The rolling sound of thunder,
The chase of a Lion,
His prey runs asunder.
The Lion's roar is his symbol,
Of Strength, Of Leadership, Of pride,
The raw Roar sound is tribal,
His pride, so true, abide.
Lion's Pride
The Lion, He sits upon the mountain.
Watching over the pride, which is His joy.
Emotionless.
He shows no fear.
With Him, a calmness and peace.
He struts with confidence.
As he approaches the pride,
No one will challenge Him.
He is Alpha.
The true leader.
Both Trusting and trusted.
When confronted, it is not His pride He protects.
To protect His pride is foolish.
He knows He is Alpha
It is the pride,
The pride is for Him to sacrifice for.
The Lioness respects him
He is the head of the pride.
He loves Her and for the pride would lay down His life.
It is His cross to bear.
For it was the role, He was born to play.
As the Lion leads the pride,
A man should lead His pride & joy.
Whatever pride He protects,
Determines if He is Alpha.
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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American Pride
(Throughout the singing of this song there is continuous
background of announcements about 9-11 incident by
goverment leaders and announcers)
American pride something you feel inside
Something you can't describe American pride.
Dad said, Son I'm proud you won
But the game is more than any toy
Mama said, Now Son say sir and say ma'am
And be proud you're southern born
You play when you're hurt and you work when you're tired
'Cause that was Grandpa's way
And the biscuits are better at Granny's house
And the gravy taste great all day.
American pride yes it is something you feel inside
Something you can't describe, something you cannot hide
American pride something you feel inside
Traditions run deep and wide with American pride.
When a baby is born we all celebrate
With tears of joy in family eyes
'Cause we all know the baby
Will grow up with American pride
Yeah. we work and we play and we have our own ways
And we don't all look alike
But if the cause is right we stand up and fight
To protect our American pride.
Sing it, sing it, sing it.
American pride yes it is something you feel inside
It's something you can't describe,
Yt's something you can't hide
American pride, something you feel inside
Traditions run deep and wide with American pride.
With American pride, it's American pride...
song performed by by Alabama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Corridor
It may have been the pride in me for aught
I know, or just a patronizing whim;
But call it freak of fancy, or what not,
I cannot hide the hungry face of him.
I keep a scant half-dozen words he said,
And every now and then I lose his name;
He may be living or he may be dead,
But I must have him with me all the same.
I knew it and I knew it all along,--
And felt it once or twice, or thought I did;
But only as a glad man feels a song
That sounds around a stranger's coffin lid.
I knew it, and he knew it, I believe,
But silence held us alien to the end;
And I have now no magic to retrieve
That year, to stop that hunger for a friend.
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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Dominatrix On The Axis
Work it on a brother, if it works, oh well, then work it on another; Do your snooky shakey shake, show it to your mother.
Dominatrix on the axis climbs the tower of praxis. Momma said daddy plays the lone bone. Work it on a sister, if it works out for her, then work it on her brother. Might want to
watch yourself or they'll work it on your mother.
If this sounds somethin like s-e-triple x,
sailing off without redemption on the good ship Oedipus.
Look beyond these shores, where you won't have to deal with petty, prudishness no more.
Beyond the sea, you could give it all away for a handling fee.
L'l sister could work it, little brother too. If it works pretty good,
Might work it on you, then work your moves on another. But, pretty please, don't ply your shake 'n' bake magic on my old world grandmother.
poem by Buddy Bee Anthony
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My Brother Sarah - Sway B-side
My brother sarah
Doesn't know what clothes to wear
It's a dilemma
To get the stuff to match your hair
But mother and father
Sister and brother
Say they just don't know
My brother sarah
Really wish you understood
Why he's got to show it
For it to be any damn good
But mother and father
Sister and brother
Say they just don't know
My brother lies awake at night
Wishing this world could just be right
But mother and father
Sister and brother
You and all the others
Say you just don't know
song performed by by Ocean Colour Scene
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All We Got Is Pride!
All we have is are pride,
the main thing that we will never hide.
we rasie are flag so high
u can see are pride in da sky.
pride is why we are alive
y mexicans stay to live.
we might nt have usa power
bt we have the pride of a huge tower
u can take our papers
bt u cant take our pride
cause yall bunch of fackers
that all ways hides
poem by Melissa Cortez
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Identity ensures sacrifice.
Once I sold my gold for my sister to wed.
I had a pride on it.
Now when my mother has given her hers
I am piqued by it.
My sister and I are liberated from the identity.
At my mother’s age I may emulate her.
How will be my son for his sister?
27.04.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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When I Died
The day they won,
i picked up a gun
3 bullets to the head
Pride,
strength,
courage
then i was dead
When i died,
irealized
i was the one who pulled the trigger,
and the digger,
of my own grave
3 bullets
1-pride; denying pain i hide
2-the strength; to defend what i feel inside
3-the courage to have pride
so away i went...
into the light
inspite that i might,
seek answers
get my questions answered
with out sticker shock
or again getting shot
but im already dead so who cares?
who cares,
that i still have nightmares
cuz i'm dead,
and i the one who behead
myself
when i died i took 3 bullets to the head
pride,
strength,
courage,
and still lying here, DEAD
poem by Brittney Phillips
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Rednecks unite!
My father is my brother
My sister, with three ears,
Is his significant other.
My sister is my mother
And somehow, also my brother
My father's father am I
The vile thought makes me shudder.
Grandma was a mule,
Grandfather's sperm, she used as fuel
A french aristrocrat,
Made love to my mother, for he prefered his women fat
A letter written for my eyes
Containing news of demine
Said my true mother was some other
And my father, not her brother.
Jubilant and joyous,
My wife is what used to by my sister.. Or brother?
poem by Thy Mother
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Leopard
Leopards with their spots
Four legged polka dots
Jaguars too have spots
Leopard have densely spots
Jaguars have central spots
You and I call them spots
But Zoologist calls them
'Rosettes' which doesn't rhyme with spots.
Better to call them 'spots'
because it rhymes with 'dots.'