Everything You Know,
Crystal lake closed for soul deer
and all peterman get hunting permit
Like trees we die
when roots refuse to nourish us
As two bishop of different colour,
I have never met you
All is passing near / by
me or you
little or high
from a pain to a song
everything you know,
is wrong!
(translated from romanian)
poem by Ion Untaru
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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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The symbiosis
Your man and my woman
Stand there as two trees above,
We both, as their roots below,
Feed each other to nourish
Our trees above to flourish.
Unaware, they, too, aren’t in anguish.
Is not it fit for us to cherish
In that because of you, me and
Because of me, you, grow rich
In our luster to entice our partners?
One can fence the shoots;
Can one, the roots?
One can guard the bodies.
Can one, the hearts?
29.06.1999 Pala29.06.99
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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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Pig
Go, stalk the red deer o'er the heather,
Ride, follow the fox if you can!
But, for pleasure and profit together,
Allow me the hunting of Man--
The chase of the Human, the search for the Soul
To its ruin--the hunting of Man.
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Qinghai Lake
Qinghai, Qinghai Lake,
Largest salt lake in China
Blue colour water
Blue clear skies.
Birds fly near the Birds island
During spring times.
Stand high and tall at 3,600 m
Weather according to season
Sunrise at dawn
Sunset at dusk near Qinghai Lake
beautiful colourful lake
seen from hill top
Many cattle of yaks and sheep at the hills top
with the nomadic Tibetans and their tent
The lake full of beauty and colour
beyond compare
Qinghai Hu,
Many fishes and plants.
poem by Lawrence Hiung
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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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The Deer-Star (A Paiute Legend)
HEAR now a tale of the deer-star,
Tale of the days agone,
When a youth rose up for the hunting
In the bluish light of dawn --
Rose up for the red deer hunting,
And what should a hunter do
Who has never an arrow feathered,
Nor a bow strung taut and true?
The women laughed from the doorways, the maidens mocked at the spring;
For thus to be slack at the hunting is ever a shameful thing.
The old men nodded and muttered, but the youth spoke up with a frown:
'If I have no gear for the hunting, I will run the red deer down.'
He is off by the hills of the morning,
By the dim, untrodden ways;
In the clean, wet, windy marshes
He has startled the deer agraze;
And a buck of the branching antlers
Streams out from the fleeing herd,
And the youth is apt to the running
As the tongue to the spoken word.
They have gone by the broken ridges, by mesa and hill and swale,
Nor once did the red deer falter, nor the feet of the runner fail;
So lightly they trod on the lupines that scarce were the flower-stalks bent,
And over the tops of the dusky sage the wind of their running went.
They have gone by the painted desert,
Where the dawn mists lie uncurled,
And over the purple barrows
On the outer rim of the world.
The people shout from the village,
And the sun gets up to spy
The royal deer and the runner,
Clear shining in the sky.
And ever the hunter watches for the rising of that star
When he comes by the summer mountains where the haunts of the red deer are,
When he comes by the morning meadows where the young of the red deer hide;
He fares him forth to the hunting while the deer and the runner bide.
poem by Mary Austin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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How Boomer Ruined Our Hunting Trips
For years we have gone hunting.
I've loved sitting next to him in his deer blind
or sitting quietly in my own.
Now that Boomer came into our lives
I see all living animals as having feelings
and I can't stand the thought of hunting.
Boomer is our bassett hound.
He thinks he is human.
I sometimes think so too.
The way he has shown me
that he feels things like we do
has changed me forever.
Now, all I can think of is that
if a dog can feel emotions like we do...
can a deer?
Are they afraid?
Do they know why we are sitting there?
Do they hate me?
I have to explain this to my husband
and pray he understands why
our hunting days together are over.
Strong
My breath smells of a thousand fags
And when I'm drunk I dance like me Dad
I've started to dress a bit like him
Early morning when I wake up
I look like Kiss but without the make up
And that's a good line to take it to
The bridge
And you know and you know
Cos my life's a mess
And I'm trying to grow so before
I'm old I'll confess
You think that I'm strong you're wrong
You're wrong
I'll sing my song my song my song
My bed's full of takeaways and fantasies
Of easy lays
The pause button's broke on my video
And is this real cos I feel fake
Oprah Winfrey Ricki Lake
Teach me things I don't need to know
And you know and you know
Cos my life's a mess
And it's starting to show so before
I'm old I'll confess
You think that I'm strong you're wrong
You're wrong
I'll sing my song my song my song
If I did it all again I'd be a nun
The rain was never cold when I was young
I'm still young we're still young
Life's too short to be afraid
Step inside the sun
And you know and you know
Cos my life's a mess
And I'm trying to grow
And you know and you know
Cos my life's a mess
And I'm trying to grow
And you know and you know
Cos my life's a mess
And I'm trying to grow
You think that I'm strong you're wrong
You're wrong
I'll sing my song my song my song
You think that I'm strong you're wrong
You're wrong
I'll sing my song my song my song
Life's too short to be afraid
So take a pill to numb the pain
You don't have to take the blame
Life's too short to be afraid
So take a pill to numb the pain
You don't have to take the blame
Life's too short to be afraid
So take a pill to numb the pain
You don't have to take the blame
song performed by by Robbie Williams from Ego Has Landed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Strong
My breath smells of a thousand fags
And when I'm drunk I dance like me Dad
I've started to dress a bit like him
Early morning when I wake up
I look like Kiss but without the make up
And that's a good line to take it to
The bridge
And you know and you know
Cos my life's a mess
And I'm trying to grow so before
I'm old I'll confess
You think that I'm strong you're wrong
You're wrong
I'll sing my song my song my song
My bed's full of takeaways and fantasies
Of easy lays
The pause button's broke on my video
And is this real cos I feel fake
Oprah Winfrey Ricki Lake
Teach me things I don't need to know
And you know and you know
Cos my life's a mess
And it's starting to show so before
I'm old I'll confess
You think that I'm strong you're wrong
You're wrong
I'll sing my song my song my song
If I did it all again I'd be a nun
The rain was never cold when I was young
I'm still young we're still young
Life's too short to be afraid
Step inside the sun
And you know and you know
Cos my life's a mess
And I'm trying to grow
And you know and you know
Cos my life's a mess
And I'm trying to grow
And you know and you know
Cos my life's a mess
And I'm trying to grow
You think that I'm strong you're wrong
You're wrong
I'll sing my song my song my song
You think that I'm strong you're wrong
You're wrong
I'll sing my song my song my song
Life's too short to be afraid
So take a pill to numb the pain
You don't have to take the blame
Life's too short to be afraid
So take a pill to numb the pain
You don't have to take the blame
Life's too short to be afraid
So take a pill to numb the pain
You don't have to take the blame
song performed by by Robbie Williams from I've Been Expecting You
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Red;
Red is the colour of anger welling up inside me,
Red is believing and then having doubt,
Red is the colour of love and romance,
Red is the colour of the end of my nose on a cold winter day.
The colour of little red riding hoods coat,
Red is mars high up in the sky;
The colour that flushes my cheeks after playing sport and getting embarressed.
The colour of my sore sad eyes after crying.
Red is the colour of my warm blood flooding my veins,
Which shows Human Bondage,
Which shows the life within me,
Red is the colour of ambition burning my soul,
Red is the colour of the devil, which feeds me my power.
poem by karlia Ashlyn
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Colour Of You
I can feel the colour of you
my brush can depict your face
my pencil the out-lines of your being
I can see the melody of your song
the song of your heart
the harmony that resonates in your soul
I can feel the colour of you
the complimentary shades in your eyes
the pantone of your song
my heart can hear that song
my soul can sing along
poem by Lola Sanchez
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The Colour Of You
I can feel the colour of you
my brush can depict your face
my pencil the out-lines of your being
I can see the melody of your song
the song of your heart
the harmony that resonates in your soul
I can feel the colour of you
the complimentary shades in your eyes
the pantone of your song
my heart can hear that song
my soul can sing along
poem by Lola Sanchez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Country Aint Country
He was raised on a tractor in overalls and boots
Been to college and then law school since leaving his roots
Came home in a lexus,he left in a ford
Country aint country no more
He told his daddy catch up with the times
He said now a days people trade heifers online
Dad aint selling deals with a handshake like before
Country aint country no more
No,country aint country no more
The back forty was sold to make up for hard times
Then sold by the half acre lot overnight
The houses went up and the trees were cut down
And there went the finest deer hunting around
Lord everyones locking their doors
cause country aint country no more
Now his dad sits in traffic looking round at the change
Watching crews turn the county road into four lanes
The old sunday drive has turned into a chore
Country aint country no more
Lord,country aint country no more
The back forty was sold to make up for hard times
Then sold by the half acre lot overnight
The houses went up and the trees were cut down
And there went the finest deer hunting around
Lord everyones locking their doors
cause country aint country no more
Theres no turning back
And you just cant ignore
That country aint country no more
No,country aint country no more
song performed by by Travis Tritt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Run free, Angel (R.I.P. Chelsea King)
She loved to run through the green forest,
Where the sun watched over her,
Where the lake’s cool and riveting motions
Met with the tranquil flow of the wind.
But the sun’s eyes
Could not change her destiny
They could not predispose her judgment
Or those of the Monster
Whose impulses were like those of a Tiger
Ready to pounce
Out of thirst, out of hunger, out of a sick taste for Vulnerability.
She ran like a deer,
Graceful and liberated,
Her eyes saw no danger
She succumbed to no fear.
But as a deer is entranced by a clean patch of grass
A Tiger finds opportunity
Strikes hard, and strikes fast.
The Tiger, the Monster,
Pounced on her body, devoured her soul
Fed her to the lake, who swallowed her whole.
The lake watched over her until the people came
It knew that the Monster would not win this game
His satisfaction would not go unnoticed
For this deer, this child, this girl
Was an Angel,
Is an Angel
And will always be.
poem by Jamie Ries
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Under My Umbrella
When I close my eyes
I can see for miles
Theres comfort in my dark scene
And chaos in the isles
These eyes are not your eyes
And these eyes are not
The colour that
You arid eyes might be
No, I was not around
When those eyes of yours
Decided so
I refuse to kneel before
The sights you choose to see
When I close my eyes
I remember how I smile
Under my umbrella
Im an accomplished exile
These eyes are not your eyes
And these eyes are
Not the colour that
Your arid eyes might be
No, I was not around
When those eyes of yours
Decided so
I refuse to kneel before
The sights you choose to see
If this is right
Id rather be wrong
If this is sight
Id rather be blind
These eyes are not your eyes
And these eyes are
Not the colour that
Your arid eyes might be
No, I was not around
When those eyes of yours
Decided to
I refuse to kneel before
The sights you choose to see
If this is right
Id rather be wrong
If this is sight
Id rather be blind
song performed by by Incubus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: Roots Matter
Look, how the cut branches and leaves get dried!
Sometimes, this happens when the Sun's too hot;
With roots intact, the trunk sprouts from its side;
The tree uprooted sure to death is fraught.
Look, how the trunk has sprouted green again!
The tree has started growing with revenge;
Almost a miracle is done by rain;
But this is how Nature tries to avenge.
Our Body, mind draw nourishment from soul;
Our soul if pure is habitat for God;
If not, the evil spirits take this role;
A sinful soul in Heaven would look odd?
Good roots matter if habits good flourish;
God's grace matters for Man's soul to nourish.
poem by John Celes
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The King's Hunt is up
The hunt is up, the hunt is up,
And it is well nigh day;
And Harry our king is gone hunting,
To bring his deer to bay.
The east is bright with morning light,
And darkness it is fled;
And the merry horn wakes up the morn
To leave his idle bed.
Behold the skies with golden dyes
Are glowing all around;
The grass is green, and so are the treen,
All laughing with the sound.
The horses snort to be at the sport,
The dogs are running free;
The woods rejoice at the merry noise
Of hey taranta tee ree.
The sun is glad to see us clad
All in our lusty green,
And smiles in the sky as he riseth high
To see and to be seen.
Awake all men, I say again,
Be merry as you may;
For Harry our king is gone hunting
To bring his deer to bay.
poem by William Gray
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Chicago Sestina
I am surprised by the streets of Chicago
when the palm of winter grips them with snow
as if to forgive the city’s mistakes
and give it a canvas that’s new, white, and clean–
its fingers, the branches on all of the trees
kneading the air that blows in from the lake.
I’ve never lived next to the pulse of the lake
(until I set foot down the side of Chicago)
breathing in through the streets and out through the trees
welcoming the cool of the wet, numbing snow.
It lets my mind slip into thinking it’s clean
as if to personally forgive my mistakes.
“But what have you done to forgive your mistakes? ”
Did I ask this? Or is that the voice of the lake?
Some days, not even does it appear clean,
worn down from its tall standing neighbor, Chicago.
It scrapes at the sky, asking it for more snow
to stick to and freeze the trunks of the trees.
If I were a branch on one of these trees
incapable of making a single mistake,
I’d grab at the sky as it shook out the snow
and grow my roots thick till they tasted the lake.
But I wouldn’t bend to the force of Chicago
that’s constantly keeping me from being clean.
And what does it mean to try to be clean?
I don’t understand the stillness of the trees
when they’re being attacked by the size of Chicago
as if to glorify the city’s mistakes
that glisten like stars at night on the lake
before it all froze and was covered with snow.
Ah! To imagine how long there’s been snow.
How can something this old still feel so clean
and dance through the wind that swoops in from the lake?
Is it the kneading by the spiny branches on trees
trusting that there will be no more mistakes
that leaves these the only pure thing in Chicago?
Here comes the snow that seeks out the trees
Am I now clean? Where are my mistakes?
Chicago belongs where it lay with the lake.
poem by Brian Maloney
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Deer Hunting
Hunting deer is hard to do.
But not for Michael Waddel.
Michael is an amazing bow hunter.
He only hunts deer with a bow,
Which is very hard to do anywhere.
Most people hunt with powerful guns.
But not Michael.
He uses his skills to lure the big deer in.
poem by Drew Nofer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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