Acrostic2
Hunting the hunted,
Underrating the
Noble;
Tearing apart the
External
Rumbles of Crime.
poem by TerriJo James
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hunting High And Low
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Hunting High and Low:
Here I am
And within the reach of my hand
She's sound asleep
And she's sweeter now
Than the wildest dream
Could have seen her
And I watch her slipping away
But I know I'll be
Hunting high and low
Ah there's no end
To the lengths I'll go to
Hunting high and low
Ah there's no end
To the lengths I'll go
To find her again
Upon this my dreams are depending
Through the dark
I sense the pounding of her heart
Next to mine
She's the sweetest love
I could find
So I guess I'll be
Hunting high and low
Ah, there's no end
To lengths I'll go to
High and low
Ah, do you know what it means
To love you
I'm hunting high and low
And now she's telling me
She's got to go away
I'll always be hunting high and low
Only for you (And now she's telling me)
Watch me tearing myself to pieces
Hunting high and low
Ah, there's no end
To lengths I'll go to
For you I'll be hunting high and low
song performed by by A-Ha
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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My Brother The Whale
once we hunted
brother whale with noble
courage spiritual
no technology
to butcher flesh for industrial
factory ship
steel monsters
serve human monsters idiots
hunting to extinction
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hunting High & Low
Here I am
And within the reach of my hands
Shes sound asleep and shes sweeter now
Than thewildest dream could have seen her
And I watch her slipping away
Though I know Ill be hunting high and low
High
Theres no end to the the lengths Ill go to
Hunting high and low
High
Theres no end to the the lengths Ill go to
To find her again
Upon this my dreams are depending
Through the dark
I sense the pounding of her heart
Next to mine
Shes the sweetest love I could find
So I guess Ill be hunting high and low
High
Theres no end to the lengths Ill go to
High and low
High
Do you know what it means to love you
Im hunting high and low
And now shes telling me shes got to go away
Ill always be hunting high and low
Hungry for you
Watch me tearing myself to pieces
Hunting high and low
High
Theres no end to the lengths Ill go to
Oh! for you Ill be hunting high and low
song performed by by A-Ha
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Tearing And Breaking
Tearing and breaking down
Tearing my heart
Tearing and breaking down
Tearing my heart
(Tearing and breaking down)
(Tearing my heart)
There goes my heart again
(Tearing and breaking down)
(Tearing my heart)
Watch my heart fly away
All the love that I have ever known
Came from the sweetest of hearts
Every time I was looking for love
I found it in you
(Tearing and breaking down)
(Tearing my heart)
There goes my heart again
(Tearing and breaking down)
(Tearing my heart)
Watch my heart fly away
All the tears you found in your eyes
I know that they were mine
All the love you were trying to disguise
I never could desert
(Tearing and breaking down)
(Tearing my heart)
There goes my heart again
(Tearing and breaking down)
(Tearing my heart)
Watch my heart fly away
Saw that look in the eyes and I felt so sorry for myself
I could've cried
Heard you saying goodbye and you know it felt so strange
Cause I know we'd tried
(With all the tearing and breaking down)
(Tearing my heart)
There goes my heart again
(Tearing and breaking down)
(Tearing my heart)
I can watch it fly away
Tearing and breaking down
Tearing my heart
All the tearing and breaking down
(Tearing my heart)
There goes my heart again
Tearing and breaking down
Tearing my heart
Tearing and breaking down
(Tearing my heart)
Watch my heart fly away, fly away, fly again
Tearing and breaking down
Tearing my heart
song performed by by Phil Collins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Oh! Oh! Oh!
God prosper long our noble king,
Our life and safeties all!
A woeful hunting once there did
To drive the deer with hound and horn
The child may rue that is unborn
The hunting of that day!
Oh! Oh! Oh!
poem by C.D. Xiang
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Legend Of The O Keeffes
It must be a fallacy that dead canines can fly
But of the mystery in myths and legends one cannot deny
And one legend I recall from decades gone by
Is when an O Keeffe dies in Cullen dogs bark in the sky.
The legend of the O Keeffes has travelled far and wide
They hunted with their dogs in Duhallow's country-side
And stories of them in Duhallow abound
Of how with their dogs they hunted on foot covering miles of ground.
'Tis said the O Keeffes the best hunting dogs kept
And with their wives in their beds their dogs with them slept
And for the kindness shown to them their dogs them did repay
The O Keeffes never did know a poor hunting day.
I tell it as I heard it and I don't tell you a lie
It is said that in Cullen when an O Keeffe die
The dogs of their dead ancestors bark in the moonlight
In the starry sky in the dead of the night.
You can make out of this whatever you may
But in Duhallow the legend is living today
Of when a Cullen O Keeffe dies canines bark in the sky
The ghosts of their ancestors dogs on them have wings to fly.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tearing Us Apart (feat. Eric Clapton)
originally by Eric Clapton
You know the sun is shining, it's raining in my heart
I don't know what to do since we've been apart
Why don't you tell me, babe, what is going on?
You know I love you darling, don't want to be alone
They're tearing us apart
They're breaking up my heart
I knew it from the start
Your friends are tearing us apart
You know I can't go on, feeling this old way
You know my heart is burning, it's burning everyday
You know I love you, baby, no one else will do
Why don't you reconsider, do what I want you to?
They're tearing us apart
They're breaking up my heart
I knew it from the start
Your friends are tearing us apart
They're tearing us apart
They're breaking up my heart
I knew it from the start
Your friends are tearing us apart
Your friends are tearing us apart
Tearing us apart
song performed by by Sheryl Crow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fox Hunting Is Banned In Britain
A so called sport of the upper class that inspired the bards to rhyme
Fox hunting is banned in Britain everything has it's time
For nothing last forever it had passed it's use by date
And in chasing down and killing a frightened creature what is to celebrate?
John Masefield's long poem 'Reynard the Fox' I readily can recall
One of the best on fox hunting if not the best of all
But that aside fox hunting was cruel or to me 'twould seem that way
For to be hunted down and mauled to death by dogs not what you'd call fair play.
I read in the Newspapers how those for fox hunting protested long and loud
But there was nothing in this so called sport of which they could feel proud
For to watch a creature torn to shreds could hardly be much fun
It seems a far more painful way to die than the quicker death by gun.
The day is near when all blood sports will be things of the past
For all things have their use by date and nothing seems to last
Some may see the fox as vermin but the fox warrants a fair go
And empathy for wild born creatures not too much to ask to show.
Fox hunting is banned in Britain such good news is good to hear
News well worth celebrating to that I'll drink a beer
To be torn to shreds by a pack of hounds seems an awful way to die
And to this very cruel blood sport good riddance and goodbye.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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 Cape Hunting Dogs Of Africa
They run for hours on end each day through grasses gray and brown
Race antelope to a stand still and drag big zebra down
Outlast the speedy wildebeest their victims die in pain
Those amazing cape hunting dogs the hunters of the plain.
They have no sense of right or wrong they must hunt to survive
And their young in den some ten miles off without fresh meat won't thrive
The cape hunting dogs of Africa don't have sins to forgive
They risk their lives amidst flying hooves they kill so they
can live.
The cape hunting dogs of Africa are creatures i admire
They chase big game for miles and miles and never seem to tire
Their team work and companionship they live to serve the pack
They often kill ten miles from home and trot the ten miles back.
The cape hunting dogs of Africa live as true family
They chase big game for miles on end and work in harmony
They have no choice but kill to eat if they don't eat they die
And they risk their lives to serve the pack when hooves of hunted fly.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hunted By Those Hunting
As a marketing tool...
Some may choose to select peace.
As an item worn like a necklace!
Silver, diamond crusted, gold...
Or a gold leaf piece that treats!
An external 'closeness' worn...
One adorns and feels protected.
A symbolic jester...
That 'manifests' a pride from inside,
To show of one's affliliation...
As a limb attached to one's belief.
Yet often such 'bliss' is hidden,
Much sequestered...
For an ease that brings a quick relief.
Externally on it's own...
Peace is not shown,
Or actively produced!
Some may reveal,
For them it is internally concealed...
To express freely to release,
Whenever it is induced!
And still we subject others to profess,
Whether or not their faith is strong enough...
To fight demons that come to test!
As if we are 'all' above treating each other,
Like beasts unleashed...
Ready to show,
Our own displeasure that grows with unrest!
Enjoying to be hunted...
By those hunting as we're left grunting.
Satisfied those labelled,
Have become pests,
In tit for tat adventures heated,
Upon our own bait ladened requests.
'Why do they persist,
In ignoring us like this?
Can't they see...
What we have is what they need? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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The Hunted Child
Verse 1
(today in los angeles another youth loses his life. gunshot wound to
The head. street violence is at an all-time high)
No jokin, Im sleepin with my eyes open
Wanted for a homicide ride, the guns still smokin
Didnt know what I was doin but did it anyway
Now the posses on my trail, they say Im gonna pay (run!)
I had a gun, its mine and I packed it
Out with my crew, the boys caught some static
Me and this sucker punk went at it
Bang! nine automatic
Hunted child
Im the hunted child
Verse 2
(sources say the assailant was 17-years old and lives in south-central
Los angeles)
Now Im on a hideout tip cos theyre after me
Lapd says theyre gonna capture me
Was I crazy? I guess I had to be
Cos once you kill its instant catastrophe
Your whole life is over (through!)
Forget about your girl your (crew!)
Nowhere to run, so what you gonna do?
Be glad its me, homeboy, and not you
The hunted child
Im the hunted child
Hunted child
Im the hunted child
Verse 3
Im only 17, I didnt mean to kill, man
But I was slangin and bangin for the thrill, man
When they said (kill!) I felt chill, man
But once I pulled the trigger, boy, then things got ill, man
My homeboys dipped out the back fast
Left me alone in the echo of the gun blast
Everybody saw my face, I didnt wear a mask
You wanna know my name? just ask
The hunted child
Im the hunted child
Hunted child
Im the hunted child
(the science of capitalism which you teach to the youth on the streets
Today with the ends justifying the means mentality aint happenin)
Verse 4
Im sweatin heavy cos my face is on tv
Everybody in this whole worlds after me
Since I was young I never had a damned thing
At christmas time Id hate to hear the bells ring
Cos in the ghetto santa aint got a dime
Your mothers standin in the welfare line
The way the youth survive is crime
My life is over so I might as well speak my mind
I killed a brother cos this system had me geared to kill
Cos what I call home you call hell
My ghetto quarters aint no better than a jail cell
But theres a message in this story that Im tryna tell
Were just brothers on the streets killin brothers
This system has us geared to kill one another
Sellin dope to poison each other
The plan of the man, word to the mother
But Im a sucker cos I fell into their plan
187, I killed a brother man
My life on earth was hell, you understand?
But when I die Im goin to hell again
Im the hunted child Im the hunted child Im the hunted child the
Hunted child
Im the hunted child
Im the hunted child
song performed by by Ice T
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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As no outward motion or change, when normal, in man's external body can take place unless provoked by an inward impulse, given through one of the three functions named, so with the external or manifested Universe.
quote by H.P. Blavatsky
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Fugitive
On a cold october morning
As frost lay on the ground
Waiting to make my move I made no sound
Waiting for the mist
To cover all around
I carefully picked my time then took the wall
Im sick and tired of running
The hunger and the pain
A stop to look about then off again
Being at the wrong place
And at the wrong time
Suspected of a hit that was my crime
I am a fugitive being hunted down like game
I am a fugitive but Ive got to clear my name
Even if I find them
And get to clear my name
I know that things can never be the same
But if I ever proof
My innocence some day
Ive got to get them all to make them pay
I am a fugitive being hunted down like game
I am a fugitive but Ive got to clear my name
song performed by by Iron Maiden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Moral is convenient
Hunting a hare or beating a ram
Is not a crime but a gallant act.
A paramour does the same act.
Why do you sling him mud?
04.11.2002
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The principle we call self-love never seeks anything external for the sake of the thing, but only as a means of happiness or good: particular affections rest in the external things themselves.
quote by Joseph Butler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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