6. The Hunting Owl
Into the night sky
An owl took to wing
Beginning his hunting
For food home to bring
Over the hedges
He silently swoops
A large gust of wind
Turned him over in loops
On settling down
He eyed up a shrew
Fixed on his target
Claws knew what to do
He picked up his dinner
And dined by himself
Within an old barn
On dusty old shelf
Flying once more
He spied a small rabbit
With young mouths to feed
He swooped down to grab it
Despatched with one peck
Poor bunny no more
But a fine meal was had
By owls family of four
poem by David Threadgold (2008)
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The Flying Tiger (A Poem For Children)
I met a flying tiger,
with flaming, orange wings.
It hunts the flying deer,
and other aerial things.
The tiger is fierce,
powerful and strong.
It swoops through the sky,
it tail is dragged along.
I knew tigers were great jumpers,
but I never saw one fly.
Until I heard a roar above,
then I stared into the sky.
The tiger pirouetted,
it swooped and turned with grace.
It flew so high above the clouds,
it almost went into space!
poem by Jojoba Mansell
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A September Night In The Countryside
Out there in the quiet countryside in the still of the night
The unmistakeable cry of a hunting fox in the moonlight
And perhaps at the threat of a predator to their ground nest nearby
The wary spur wing plovers are calling as they fly
Like the fox the predatory night birds have young to feed this time of year
And the loud screech of a barn owl not a pleasant sound to hear
And to the boobook calls of mopoke on the nearby trees
The brooding small bird in her nest does listen with a sense of unease
On the quiet rural roadway few cars pass up and down
On a September night in the countryside miles from the nearest town
And the calls of the male ringtail possum one never could mistake
He will be back in his leafy nest before sunrise at daybreak
The predatory birds and animals who hide from the lamp of day
In the still of a September night are out hunting for prey.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Wealth And Food
There is pity where we walk
In the mouths we float our food
Sin is again in the mind
What will this bring when we think?
What food do we bring for our bodies
When the mouth is strong in taste
For the fine wine and lovely bites
So strong in love of our soul?
The smile on your face is strong
As the tale we tell will bring more food
To the hearts of the poor
Who will love us more for our wealth is grand.
poem by Naveed Akram
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First Shot
I said I was hunting deer. I knew the trails, the split tracks and pellets of shit; circles
where they bedded down together. I faced a buck once, for almost ten minutes I think;
I moved first and it left me. I ran home to think.
I had a bow, target arrows, a target on straw. My father said be careful, and I was, but
I sneaked my bow and arrow to the woods. I surprised a tiny rabbit near a hole. It
froze. I had an arrow on it. I moved and it ran for the hole. I never shot.
They had a blanket, in a clearing of wiry grass that sloped to the north. He had her
down, her hands all over his back. I thought I knew her. They hadn't seen me. I notched
an arrow. His head turned my way, vague, like he needed his glasses, and maybe afraid.
I got scared, I wasn't sure what it was; I shot my arrow, my first shot, wild I think, and ran.
I waited for something for weeks, for more than weeks. I couldn't answer questions. I
thought I saw her a few times, later. I never went back until I was sixteen, almost, and
nothing was there but I only stayed for a minute.
poem by Eric Torgersen
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Do The Easter Bunny Too Funny Hop
Bunny shakes his head
like he's whiping hair back and forth
puts his right foot in
hops on one about
he does the bunny spin game
while putting humpy dumpy on the wall
thats what a bunnys all about tweet tweet
now eats a carrot loves green food
easter bunny teach us all how to eat good
puts you inside the bunny hole
with holding a corkscrew
bunny puts his left foot in
and shakes it all about
then he loves to cry and tear
while eating onion rings from a garden
piggly the pig said's I'm gonna get rabbit
fluffy bunny ears long as ears of corn
long tail of easter bunny to have fun
easter bunny hops hops and hops
do the easter bunny too funny hop
while drinking orange juice to keep spirits up.
poem by Tommy Laster
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Inviting Bunny To My Home!
Bunny bunny bunny
You are the funny!
Bunny bunny come come
Without stopping!
Come through mountain
Bring some jasmine!
Bunny bunny bunny
You are the funny!
poem by Radio In Afwas
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Katy
I learned something more today I went out rabbit hunting had the hare in my bow sights and all I could hear in my head was my daughter Katy I do not want to eat bugs bunny daddy when she was small I pull back the bow and let it go, instead I sat on a mountain and ate some bread and jam, tea and look at the beauty around...me number one rule do not take more than you need, I feel another poem coming on.
poem by Thomas Mullaly
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Swollen (Chapter Two)
she drove across town,
past the empty warehouses,
to a quiet neighborhood down
on the poor side.
she helped him into the house,
past the foreclosure notice
on the door. there were no
lights, and it was cold.
in the little room at the back
of the house she lit a candle.
she helped him to a chair.
he heard a rustling in the corner.
she walked over and picked the baby
up and held him close.
he could see the blood crusting
on her lips in the half light,
the bruises under her eyes.
'mister, i have to feed the baby,
i dont have anything to offer you...'
they made small talk as she fed the
baby. she'd lost her job, and they'd
been evicted from her apartment. she
had no family, and nowhere to go for help.
the baby's daddy was in prison.
she was an ex-addict. had been straight
since before she was pregnant. lately,
she'd turned a couple tricks for food money.
she hoped no one knew they were staying here.
but it was just a matter of time...
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Pelion
The small owls cry
through the centaur's woods,
bronze wings clashing
through the dry autumnal leaves.
Old battles echo in the air -
the brazen shield and iron spear
flash in the moonlight.
Caught between the fearful dream
and feared reality
the fieldmice still,
crouch lower than the rabbits in the groves.
The owls fly on,
more haunted now than hunting,
towards a time
when pale Athena, helmeted and armed,
lifted her shield
to catch the owl-eyed moon.
poem by Kathleen Griffin
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The Rat and the Owl
A rat is moving on the ground;
It searches for something to eat;
’Tis night and it must quickly find
Some food or else, it must sure starve!
A large owl stands with two large eyes;
It turns its neck to scan the ground;
It strains its eyes to catch a prey,
And sees a rat shuffling across!
Both search for food in frantic ways;
Both need to eat to stay alive;
The owl is like a ghost at night;
Its large eyes contrast rat’s small ones!
The owl is predator for rat;
The rat is prey for owl at night;
The owl is sure to pin the rat,
And death is sure for the latter!
The rat moves on unwarily!
It nears the owl innocently;
It does not know that death is near;
Its mind is bent on searching food!
The owl is watching rat’s movements;
The prey is rather small in size;
It tries to keep the rat within
Its visual fields, and take a strike!
The rat is unaware of owl;
It has not sniffed the danger near;
With nostrils engrossed in food-search,
It scurries to and fro for long!
The owl is planning when to swoop;
An opportune moment must come;
The rat must take a moment’s rest;
The owl’s claws take the rat to nest!
The predator is smart and swift;
The prey will certainly get caught;
There is a small chance to escape;
But, predator must make the fault!
Both owl and rat must eat to live;
The rat is prey for owl always;
The rat can still avoid its death;
It must respect the owl’s beak-might!
In life, we play with dangers oft;
We know that fire surely burns;
We walk into the ‘jaws of death’!
We take some risks that bring us death!
But being careful is a must;
We cannot risk our precious life;
Lurk dangers in our environs;
The thread of life could get cut fast!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 7-21-2008
poem by John Celes
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Oh little fly!
Oh little fly
Where is your mummy
Why don't you get out of here in a hurry
before I slap your wings with a sting
Oh What joy that will bring
Your presence alone
as you try to feed on my meal
irritates me
At least show me some respect
Take an example from the mouse
It may not be perfect
Though larger than any insect
seems to have more manners than you
Hiding in daylight
and emerging at night
Oh little fly
Your hairy legs
which houses bacteria
looks awfully terrible
Have'nt you heard of shaving
having a bath and changing
If you feed on that wine
after you have dined
It will not be long
When you start to cry
as you try
unsuccessfully to fly
Copyright 2005 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Deep In The Motherlode
Get out of the way fat man. you got something to do
Go fill up your hands till theyre shining up at you.
You gotta get out while theres gold in the air
Its falling like water, coming down from the hills.
Go west young man
Earn a dollar a day just like your family said.
Youre rolling your days right on into the night
The head of the lines going way out of sight.
Go west young man like your family said
All along the wagons
All along the dusty trail.
Seventeen years not over a day
Like children in the wild.
Your mothers milk still wet on your face
And no one to pray for your safe journey home.
Out beyond the desert
Across the mountains by the fall.
Servants who leave their masters house
Are walking all the way.
The golden fields that beckoned you
Are darkened by the years.
Go west young man
If you knew then what you know today
Youd be back where you started a happier man
And leave all the glory to those who have remained.
So go west young man
Go west young man, like your family said.
song performed by by Genesis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Common Crow
The Common Crow, "Caw-Caw"—with its familiar sound
Is a harmless bird very adaptable on land
Almost all over the world it is invariably found
Except in South America, Antarctica and New Zealand.
It is of average size—in color—grey and black
And abounds, teems and thrives in many numbers
Where other birds' survival is considerably slack
As it is the most intelligent of its bird family members.
The Ravens, Magpies, Rooks, the Black-birds
And the Jays—all belong to the family of the crow
They are all hunting migratory birds
Who forage together like the crow.
It has shining black feathers, is clever and curious
It is omnivorous and the diet is very diverse
It eats grains, rodents, insects and is mischievous
And swoops down to grasp things from man's source.
It roosts in large trees high up
Each mating pair has its own nest
Which usually takes one to two weeks to build up
Gathering leaves, feathers, sticks and twigs best.
Baby crows stay in the nest
For up to two months before leaving
The mother crow guards them with zest
And the father crow feeds the family striving.
The young are flesh-colored and born blind
Their eyes open for the first time after five days
The young ones- the family together mind
The elder fledglings tend to help in their own ways.
In Hinduism it is customary to offer food
To the crow before taking the meal
And it is supposed during ‘Shraddha ‘expired ones would
Take food and offerings through the crow's feel.
The crow often lives together in large families
An assembly of crows called a ‘flock of murder'
Forge together and defend their territories
Even high up in the air and down under.
It caws and calls the other crows to its station
To take part of the food that is found
It shows signs of planning communication
Which man must consider and himself bound.
The bird's propensity to raid crops of grain bead
And storing tidbits in trees and crevices in bark
Is the reason ‘Scare crows' are put up to mislead
The crows flock of flights on the crops to embark.
Many crows are surprisingly monogamous
They mate for life and are throughout a pair
The crow belongs to the species Corvus
And up to twenty years it may live with care.
poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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The Rabbit
On a day not sunny,
Out there popped a Bunny,
From its burrow nearby;
The Eve was utmost tranquil,
The rain had just then stopp’d by,
The air had a muddy smell!
A Rabbit on both hind-legs,
Stood up with high fore-legs,
Balanced, sniffed the air near-by!
Finding the Turnips sprouted,
It leapt with joy and jumped up,
Nibbled them with awe-some pride!
Its fleece was white as snow-white,
Making noise off its large nose,
It darted off as in a ballet-show!
Bumble Bees some buzzed around,
Butterflies too flew around,
The twee Bunny scampered home.
poem by John Celes
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A Tisket - A Tasket
A-tisket a-tasket
A brown-and-yellow basket
I send a letter to my mommie
On the way I dropped it
I dropped it, I dropped it
Yes, on the way I dropped it
A little girlie picked it up
And put it in her pocket
She was truckin' on down the avenue
Without a single thing to do
She was peck, peck, peckin' all around
When she spied it on the ground
She took it, she took it
My yellow basket
And if she doesn't bring it back
I think that I will die
A-tisket a-tasket
I lost my yellow basket
And if that girlie don't return it
I don't know what I'll do
(Was it red?) No, no, no, no
(Was it brown?) No, no, no, no
(Was it blue?) No, no, no, no
Just a little yellow basket
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Please feed my daughter
It's been a long time since we've had food and water.
I don't care about myself but please feed my daughter.
I hate to inconvenience you or to intrude.
But my daughter will die if she doesn't gets some food.
She's a sweet girl who is adorable and her heart is pure.
My entire world will collapse if anything happens to her.
I asked others for food but they all said no.
They didn't give a damn and that was pretty low.
I'm willing to do some work around your house if you'll spare a meal.
I'll do anything to feed my daughter except steal.
I lost my home and my job and I'll appreciate any food that you'll give her.
If she dies, I want to die too because life won't be worth living unless I'm with her.
poem by Randy Johnson
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Counting Crows
They langour
Among the powered lines
Anticipating
Anxiously
Their next meal
Roadkill
The captain, some three odd pounds
With a butcher blade beak and
Onyx feathers
Caws and bellows his commands
Swoops
First dibs on a crushed rabbit
Fills his belly
Caws twice again
Satisfied
Leftovers are for his troops
The captain returns to his post
Surveys the asphalt
For his platoons next meal
poem by Matt Mondschein
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Austrailian Poems
Dingo
Hunting for food
In the prairie
During sunset
So he can eat dinner.
Rabbit
Drinking water
At a water hole
During a drought
Because it’s very dry.
High flyer
A kangaroo jumps
As high as an airplane
Flying in the air.
Sunny
The Australian sun
Is as hot as the center of the
Earth boiling the inside.
What is a kangaroo?
A living spring
A giant mouse
A caring mother
An animal boxer
An organism with a built in suitcase.
What is an ape?
A fuzzy friend
A tree climber
A bug muncher
A banana worshiper
The closest relative to humans.
Nintendo play
There once was something wrong
With Ditty and Donkey Kong
They were playing with joy
With a rubber toy
In the billabong
Confused kangaroos
There once was a kangaroo
Who didn’t know what to do
He wanted to move
To go find his groove
So he went to Honolulu.
Billabong
I see a big puddle
I hear many animals
I smell a mist in the air
I taste the animals’ feicies surrounding me.
I feel a nice breeze.
I know these weird bugs are going to leave a rash.
Sydney
I see people everywhere
I hear negotiation in the air
I smell hot dogs over there
I taste a fruit that looks like a pear
I feel a gust of wind in my hair
I know these people live without a care.
poem by Scot Warren
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Parang
Man, I suck me tooth when I hear
How dem croptime fiddlers lie,
And de wailing, kiss-me-arse flutes
That bring water to me eye!
Oh, when I t'ink how from young
I wasted time at de fetes,
I could bawl in a red-eyed rage
For desire turned to regret,
Not knowing the truth that I sang
At parang and la commette.
Boy, every damned tune them tune
Of love that go last forever
Is the wax and the wane of the moon
Since Adam catch body-fever.
I old, so the young crop won't
Have these claws to reap their waist,
But I know 'do more' from 'don't'
Since the grave cry out 'Make haste!'
This banjo world have one string
And all man does dance to that tune:
That love is a place in the bush
With music grieving from far,
As you look past her shoulder and see
Like her one tear afterwards
The falling of a fixed star.
Yound men does bring love to disgrace
With remorseful, regretful words,
When flesh upon flesh was the tune
Since the first cloud raise up to disclose
The breast of the naked moon.
poem by Derek Walcott
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Gray-Eyed King
Glory to you, inescapable pain!
The gray-eyed king died yesterday.
The autumn evening was sultry and red,
My husband returned and quietly said:
'You know, they brought him back from the hunt,
They found his corpse by the old oak tree.
I pity the queen. He was so young!..
In just one night her hair turned white.'
He found his pipe on the mantelpiece
And went out to his nighttime shift.
I'll go and wake my daughter now,
I'll look into her little gray eyes.
While outside the rustling poplars say:
'Your king is no longer upon this earth…'
Another translation.
By Yevgeny Bonver:
The Grey-Eyed King
Hail! Hail to thee, o, immovable pain!
The young grey-eyed king had been yesterday slain.
This autumnal evening was stuffy and red.
My husband, returning, had quietly said,
'He'd left for his hunting; they carried him home;
They'd found him under the old oak's dome.
I pity the queen. He, so young, past away!...
During one night her black hair turned to grey.'
He found his pipe on a warm fire-place,
And quietly left for his usual race.
Now my daughter will wake up and rise --
Mother will look in her dear grey eyes...
And poplars by windows rustle as sing,
'Never again will you see your young king...'
poem by Anna Akhmatova
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