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Ballad Animal Poems | Ballad Poems About Animal

These Ballad Animal poems are examples of Ballad poems about Animal. These are the best examples of Ballad Animal poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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The country gathering

The country gathering

Sometimes the folk all got together
In the little country house
Now there was Tom the tiny tiger
Well, he could be a louse
But could he play that old guitar
Man! he made it speak
And when the folk did hear him play
He made their legs go weak.

There was Winifred the otter
How she did those drums
Her rhythm it could suck one in
If you were feeling glum
You’re legs would start to dancing
As you’d rise up to the sky
And all those troubles that you had
They’d fade away and die.

Now Mugly Minie, could she sing!!
She was the porcupine
She’d stand there with a glass of wine
And she’d just blow your mind
As Billie basset, the friendly bear
Would play that bass so cool
Now he was quiet, and very shy
But lord, he had it all.

People came from miles around
To hear those  fellows play
They’d dance and sing Chicago blues
Their hearts alive and gay
They’re going to be a big time band
One day, they all know this
But all they really want to do
Is play, that’s how it is.

24 July 2013 @ 1150hrs.


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Ballad of a hero

Ballad of a hero.

There was a man, he had a dog
A Rotty, Broad and tall
With shiny fur and healthy eyes
Oh, he was beautiful
No matter where the good man went
The dog was sure to follow
They often went down to the river
And sat in a little hollow.

One day the man, he slipped and fell
He was swept off by the river
The poor man he had never swam
But the dog, he did decipher
That his master, he was drowning
He knew what he must do
He’d save the man he dearly loved
He jumped in the river too.

This dog called Bear, swam to the man
Who, was just about to drown
He grabbed the man’s coat in his jaws
As he was going down
With Dan, our man hugging his neck
Bear swam him back to shore
Then laid there tired, and panting too
Hero, was he, for sure.

Our Bear became a legend, then
Of this little country town
 And everyone did make of him
A dog of much renown
They made up songs about the dog
Spoiled him in every way
So like a king, old Bear he lived
Until his dying day.

18 February 2014 @ 1440hrs.











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The Dragon

The Dragon.

In the mountains near the land of Nord
Their lived a fiery Dragon
He had such hot and fearsome breath
Yet he kept his tail a dragging
Because he knew he wasn't bad
He was shy and that was all
And if he looked too meek and mild
Then folk would treat him cruel.

He met this little lad from Kelt
One day whilst coasting round
With fire belching from his mouth
And roaring fearsome sounds
The little lad was terrified
When he saw this thunder brute
And the dragon he was hurt indeed
As this fear he did intuit.

He said "I'm sorry little boy
But I'd not do you harm
I rasp and roar like this you know
So folk will leave me calm
I really want to be your friend
It's so lonely being me
Then the two they walked off arm in arm
It was beautiful to see.

Socrares Dec 7 2003

For Carol Eastmans contest 'Children's Fable


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Living my dream

Living my dream

I had one dream when I was young
To go to another land
In life I wasn’t satisfied
I wanted something grand
Lions, tigers. Kangaroos
And all those wild, wild beasts
Africa, South America
Or Australia at least.

Possessive Mother was my curse
How could I get away?
Every time I mentioned it
She had so much to say
And made me feel so guilty
Really cramped my style
And then one day there came along
Something to make me smile

I’d just turned my nineteenth year
When this great girl came along
She hailed from West Australia
And filled my heart with song
So we got married, had some kids
And here we are in Oz
Been here for half a century
And I came here all because

It was my fate to find this girl
She was my destiny
There’s be a whisper in the skies
That knows how things will be
It takes one’s soul, and leads it on
So growth, it might occur
And I know that west Australia
My heart, it sure does stir.

4 August 2013 @ 1440hrs.


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From The National Poet Of Slovenia In A Language People Understand - THE RUINS OF THE ANCIEN REGIME




Farewell, then, AUKN boss,
The next this year makes three.
By the time they find a substitute,
Slovenes will be at sea.

He tried to cover his behind;
AUKN boss of bosses,
As every week, balances grew bleak:
He weighed merits and losses.

With all this he'd no time to eat,
And round and round he flew.
And now he's split in a hissy-fit;
So helmsman, too-de-loo!

Day after day, day after day,
He drifted on the ocean;
Guano-vernment rained on his ship
Their suggestions for promotion.

Cousins, cousins, everywhere,
Corporate boards crosslink;
Cousins, cousins, everywhere,
Let's take you for a drink.

Accountants talking rot: O Christ!
Missions, visions - oh please!
Yea, slimy characters need legs
And slimy policies.

So has he done an hellish thing?
Not hired who? We dunno:
Was it absurd, to have a separate curd
From the whey Slovenia owes?
This wretch won't play, after 60 days;
Pissflaps, he'll have to go!

God help ya, gospod Bencina
From the fiends, that plague us thus! -
It's time to go — shot like cross-bow,
The AUKN boss.

Ah! walk-out day! what evil looks
Had I from Ernst and Young!
Who's at a loss? AUKN's boss
Wouldn't take a bung?

"You'll be" quoth one, "abolished - no
Stigma to double-cross."
He chose to go - why? We don't know:
Harmless AUKN boss.


Re-reading the original gave me a great idea for dinner until I realised all the storks have all flapped off to Africa for the winter. Pity, as I have some ancient marinade from Tuš. Like the subject of the poem, I didn't have the stamina for a Coleridge-length effort.

Story: http://www.sloveniatimes.com/total-mess-in-state-owned-capital-asset-management

The National Poet Of Slovenia In A Language People Understand interprets important Slovenian affairs for the non-Slovene speaking world. www.maria.si


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Princess Angelina

Princess Angelina

Princess Tinsels baby daughter
Has grown up quite a bit
And my, oh, my, she’s beautiful
Oh, she has all of it
A heart of gold, a lovely form
And she’s so full of bliss
Her name is Angelina
So very sweet she is.

She has a way with animals
That seems at times like magic
She loves all people, all of them
And when their days are tragic
She’ll give them the milk of kindness
She has the healing touch
And even gnomes and bitter demons
They all love her so much.

Angelina, she is loved
By all who hear her name
Folk they come from miles around
To see this girl of fame
One day she will be their queen
And it is plain to see
That when she takes that station on
A wondrous Queen she’ll be.

6 September 2013 @ 0535hrs.


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Lady from the hills

Lady from the hills

In a little cabin in the hills
There lived a maid of beauty
I’d place her on a pedestal
And no one would dispute me
One glance at her, and one would fall
Beneath this ladies charm
Her heart was filled with harmony
Her mode was soft and calm

Her kindness it was known by all
And folk would come and see her
For every time they caught her glow
Something within would stir
And as they trod their way back home
There feet would feel like feathers
She could even melt the heart
Of those with souls like leather.

Her hair was dark, her eyes deep blue
And every time she spoke
Her voice rang out like tinkling bells
As through the air it broke
All the birds and butterflies 
Would gather on her flowers
And wolves, and bears and wild creatures
Would melt beneath her power.

One day a man with no compassion
Who had no soul at all
Did come into her lovely garden
And he was oh, so cruel
Even she could not melt him
This man of ugliness
His heart was cold his hands were rough
He was evil, nothing less.

He tried to have his way with her
But what he did not know
Was that all the wild creatures
They loved this lady so
They came at him with such aggression
And threw him to the ground
And to this day nobody knows
Where his body can be found.

2 December 2013 @ 1136hrs.


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The Poem Tree

The poem tree is a very safe haven, 
for birds and fowl, a hawk, a raven, or
a little barn owl.The tree could be a
silhouette, or the finest place to raise
your pet.The poem tree could bear
the fruit of life.Such as apples and 
pears, with morning dew.A wonderful
place to play the flute.The poem tree
could have a nest.Giving birds with 
eggs, a place to rest.It could capture
a kite who someone lost, or be bitten
by the morning frost.It could capture
a balloon, which went astray, or drop
all its leaflets by the bay.The poem
tree could have a lollipop, or maybe
a candycane, umbrella branches, to
stop the rain.The tree could protect
all animals, from an oncoming flood, 
and keep all the tree bugs out of the
mud.Above the tree the sun will shine.
Home for a raccoon, or a porcupine..

The Poem Tree by Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 2011,2014.All rights reserved.


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Ham versus Hog

Let me tell you a story
From a time gone by
The tale of a greedy butcher
And a pig that could fly

In the little village of Piddle Brook
There lived a butcher named Mr.Ham
He was bearded, bulky, and a belcher
And was rumored to eat his own toe jam

A lover of all meat
Pork,beef,duck,chicken, and mutton
All this gorger did was eat
He was a professional glutton

But Mr.Ham’s appetite was not satisfied 
He longed for some thick greasy bacon
Just a few strips, nicely fried
Served with pickled daikon

He peeked through his window 
And with one beady eye 
Spotted his neighbors hog
And pictured a flaky pork pie

His mouth watered
"What a delicious midnight snack!"
"I will barbecue,braise and fry her"
"But first I will launch my attack"

"Oh but I shan’t become a thief!"
"T’was only a whim!"
But Mr.Ham’s thin scruples vanished
His growling belly got the better of him

He grabbed a pitchfork
And the hefty hooligan set out
He advanced on the sleeping hog
And grabbed her by the snout

Her piggy eyes shot open
And in a flash
She darted past the butcher
And ran past the fence in a dash

Mr.Ham bellowed in rage
And waddled after the beast
But the pig was too quick
Yet Mr.Ham never ceased

And so the chase continued
A wild game of cat and mouse
They ran through the streets
Row upon row,house after house

Finally the swine was cornered
The escaped pig let out a squeal
And great feathery wings sprouted from her back
Said the pig “Thou shalt not steal” 

And with one final snort
Two leaps and a hop
The winged sow flew away
And Mr. Ham collapsed with a plop

"I suppose it was a sign from above"
Mr.Ham sighed with defeat
From then on the rotund carnivore
Gave up on eating meat


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Black Demon

Black Demon.

The old black Demon's back again
He's pounding on my soul
He's prodding, always prodding me
This be his earthly role
The hordes of Hell move into me
With their whips and masks of steel
Invading me they rip my flesh
And break into my will.

I look into this Demons eyes
Though my body quavers some
As fear be powerful in my mind
I know what must be done
Oh no I will not falter
For now be courage time
That coward that resides in me
He be my cursed crime.

He turns his back, the bounder's gone
I've beat his hide again
If you look your demons in the eye
Their manner grows more tame.
But he'll be back on some tomorrow
He's the strongest force I know
He's my shadow and he's telling me
To move into the flow.

Socrares Dec 31 2003.


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Two kangaroos passed by

Two Kangaroos passed by

It was on a Friday morning
There’s me, and my dog Bear
We’re walking down a silent street
There’s no one anywhere
It be a balmy,  Summers morn
Around about three o clock
With nothing special on my mind
Not really taking stock.

Then suddenly old Bear looks up
With a strange look on his face
And there across the road I see
Two guys with so much grace
They were two grown up Kangaroos
And golly what a sight
At three am they passed me by
And gave me such delight.

The area that I live in
Is built up now, today
So Kangaroos so very rarely
Do pass me by that way
Poor little guys had lost their way
I bet they were confused
For all their homes have been destroyed
They have been so misused.

2 August 2013 @ 1555hrs.






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Nightingale

There live a girl, oh yes, a girl
Head so big with one thing
Intoxicated by every full moon
She likes the light from the moon's beam

Everyday she wanders, oh yes, she wanders
Downtown London, where she finds life in the streets
She waltzes down alleys, backdoor galleries
And practice losing her virginity

She stole away, oh yes, she stole away 
Like a thief in the night she borrows
Borrows the innocence of others
While lie the rest left in sorrow

There live a girl, oh yes, a girl
Who possess a trusting wink
One quick glance, trapping trance
Then she's in the wind before you blink.


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Goats

Goats

They’re everywhere
These pretty little creatures
On the serpent road to Exmouth
They be some of the features
Along with Emus, Kangaroos
And handsome birds of prey
These little goats be bountiful
They’re all along the way.

They be domestic goats 
Who’ve gone back to the wilds
Where they have bred one million fold.
As one moves along the miles
These little goats be seen so much
In their many shades and hues
Don’t know where they got their water
It be tough country too.

The weather here be hot and dry
As the sun bakes everything
And mostly here no rain does fall
To drinking water bring.
And yet these goats look healthy as
Such nimble little beasts
You’d see some dead there in the road
As the crows do have their feast.

That be the price of progress
That poor beasts have to die
That be the curse of human beings
Sometimes it makes me cry
Yet still they be so plentiful
These handsome little guys
Another little part of nature
That make love in me rise.


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song of the wolf

who will hear our song,
If we are gone?
Will you feel our pain,
As our blood falls like rain?
Who will know our strife,
If you take our life?
Why can't we be free,
We leave you be.
What would you have done,
If it were you under the gun?
You say we are killers,
That we thirst for blood.
But you became a murderer,
When the first shot rung.


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The Ibis episode

The Ibis Episode

Today I walked into my garden
To give our dog attention
{Now he’s a dog so big and strong
I guess this I should mention}
And then my eyes, rested upon
This bird, a sacred Ibis
Which made me worry quite a bit
Cause my pond was filled with fish.

This big birds strutted round the place
He could not seem to fly
But I knew that if my Boy caught him
The poor bird well might die
So I was in a quandary
As to what I well might do
So I put the dog into the house
So I could think thing s through

I walked up to the mulberry tree
{He was perched upon a limb}
And I really got quite close to him
And softly spoke to him
He didn’t seem to mind at all
But then, he flew away
It seems he wasn’t hurt at all
Which really made my day.











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The Albatross

THE ALBATROSS
Under thunder blows a colder wind, across an endless sea,   
Like a voice from the call of a far off shore in the solitude we perceive; 
For ago remained an innocent age, torn away by a thousand years
Where sincerity alone is tied to its own majestic grace;
But flow on the bluest waves over the oceans deep and wide   
Waiting long for things abandoned

Forsake those condemned to the early dawn, far past ten thousand year’s,
Still in all its silent symmetry, flies by a bird on wing;
Mysterious seemed that outstretched arm, in all 10 feet in span                                   
Grasping what came from the east, bound to rays of light; 
For seas are blessed by both good and bad 
Waiting long for what’s abandoned  

Fifty years is doomed to its own intent, lost in its own emotion,
While all that we can hold, is a time fifty thousand past;               
Come see what waits is a soul possessed, holding a daylights passage 
Where what seemed lost is an albatross, staring through its blacker eyes; 
But all we see is the bluest sea, left under tomorrow’s sky
Waiting long for things abandoned

Crashes still those crystalline waves, warmed by spring’s rebirth, 
Until we see an albatross, departing as the seasons change;
And a hundred thousand years escapes, slips away from time and place
Bound to the cliffs and bound to the rushes of a land so far away; 
For over the bluest sea, is the sunlight that we seek
Waiting long for those things abandoned      

Surrounded is he who waits in the shadow, lost to the rhythm we’ve created,
While somewhere stands an albatross, and drinks its salted wine;
For now is past a million years, gone to the mystery of life
Lost in the worth of simplicity and the innocents of desire;
But now the bluest sea is calm, with no sign of what is past
Waiting long for things abandoned
                                                                        
Escaped the thought of an albatross bound to the symbol of its virtue,
Leashed to the seas and the sound of the waves, longing a far off shore; 
Hold on to the meaning of our vision, past ten million years 
And hear the call of an albatross, its beauty and its wonder;
For here we see the bluest sea, in a land of lost intent
Waiting long for those things abandoned

                             By m.norton


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Feeding time

Feeding Time

Those birds sit in the Banksia tree
They wait there silently
Then every now and then these guys
They screech on out to me
The trays are empty down below
There ain’t no seed to eat
And so they call on out to me
And give to me some heat.

I run outside and fill those trays
Like every day before
Those Guys they watch me from the tree
They’re smart birds that’s for sure
I do my job and move away
Then they dive bomb through the air
All squabbling and a bickering
And fighting for their share.

The big boss Coccy I call him Fred
He seems to run the show
He calls the shots, he always  does
He’ll always let them know
That he’s the boss and with his spouse
{]I call his misses June}
They feed alone on one seed tray
But they be finished soon.

Then all the parrots crash on down
Doing wheelies in the sky
A screeching and a carrying on
Oh lord, they’re noisy guys.
Then when they’ve finished feeding
Well suddenly they’re gone
They fly so crazy through the air
Oh how they carry on.











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The Moon's companion

With Fur that is white and cold to the touch,
Never had i gazed upon beauty of such.
Eyes that glowed a bright golden hue,
As soon as i saw, i had found her i knew.
Her tail was long and thick by sight,
But dance it did against the wind's force and might.
Taller she was than one man and one more so,
A sad creature she was, a ruler of pain or woe.
The arctic was her kingdom, but no one lived here,
No one to protect from pain or fear.
At the moon, she'd howl with echo and sound
As if answering the bright sphere and her masters abound.
Was she a normal creature? I thought,
Or was she a deity of the arctic kingdom she wrought.
Quiver i did by her imposing presence,
But then with her near, i would come to feel pleasance.
The Moon's companion, the queen of the unforgiving ice.
All that stand before her are naught but sheep and mice.
I stand and walk towards her eternal grace,
Ever fearful but longing to come to her embrace.
Not snarling but watching without expression,
Judging me, a human, unworthy of aggression.
Bother me, it didn't for now i stand,
for before it, i knelt, offering my hand.
Why does she cause so much emotion within?
Within my head, a melody she'd sing.
How does she possess such a compelling note?
Why would she accept me instead of taking my throat?
A beast far more graceful than a trickster and savior,
for she is far nicer in person and behavior.
Perhaps a human turned to beast from a spell or curse?
Too late, she'd sing with chorus and verse.
Considered a ruler but subjugated, she be,
Howling at the moon, to her master she'd plea.
A companion or slave, The moon's pretty hound,
Forced to stay upon this silent throne without sound.
Understand i can't for she is not human,
She is the Lunar companion, the Crowned Angel Numen.


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The Great Trickster Bird

From what time or place does this White bird hail?
With clapping thunder and striking lightning upon shale.
A feeling of dread before a feeling of fear,
knowing but wishing the creature wasn't near.
Creaking with sneaking does the wooden floor quake,
slowly and surely, the walls begin to shake.
A trickster and eater of men they say,
once thought a tale but now truth, pray.
Safety and escape would all be for naught,
for the beast would find you with all but a thought.
Plumage of white with specks of blood,
will it ever stop? or will the bodies flood.
A hunter of man steps forth from the Frey,
intent on making the beast-bird his prey.
Stabbing and slashing with all of his might,
into the beast's eyes to remove it's sight.
Biting and tearing the bird's wings away,
ensuring it can't fly yet another day.
rendered to naught was this great bird now made,
escaping from humanity and into obscurity would it fade.
Once majestic and fearsome, the bird king now shunted.
The great trickster-bird had now become...The Hunted.


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Dakota Skies Part 1

My brother and I walk the south pasture on an early spring day,
The warmth of spring slowly melting, the cold of winter away.
The golds of old growth are broken by the green of new,
And we are drifting in dreams, though we have work to do.
Gathering the cows for milking, we allow Father Time to pass by,
When a shadow in the barbed wire catches my brother’s eye.
We run through the stubble of last season allowing dreams to lead, 
Shaped by childhood stories which we had seen and read.
The cries draw us near where she hangs, limply as if half dead.
Each barb is cutting deeply. She slowly bleeds the earth red.
The life within her still pulsing its unbreakable bond
We make a solemn vow, a promise, to the crying, broken fawn.
Freeing her from her prison, we discover she is too weak,
She cannot stand or fight, has lost the force of her instinct.
My brother lifts her to his chest and orders me to go on.
For the chore of our cow gathering still must be done.

Miles between us and home, they trudge, a child with a child
Him dreaming of what will be when we tame the wild.
The weight of the burden breaks him and he falls to his knees.
Looks to the heavens for strength, but there is only me.
Her hooves drag along beside and I cradle her in my arms -
The weight of her pulling me downward, and yet I struggle on.
We entrust her to the dancing shadows of the oak tree in the yard,
And beg our mother for help but her motto is “Life is hard.
The veterinarian is more than we can spend. Milking still needs done.
Wild animals should be left to nature and the course which it will run.”
With a child’s gesture of love, we leave her and gather grain.
The labor of farm children - as essential as the rain.
(There is a Part 2 which can be found on my page.)


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The Monster

 It came from beneath the swamp
 to look for the one he lost
 it went around the marsh to romp
 even though it was a deadly cost

 The woman in the house
 with her husband on the loose
 her boyfriend silent as a mouse
 was getting the booze

 and the thing came through the door
 confused, and looking for his wife
 when he saw her new boyfriend roar
 he nearly took away his life

 the wife, happy to reunite
 the husband, happy she's alive
 and she took one look at him in the light
 and struck him with a knife


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Amilius

Amilius 500 thousand years ago we came upon the earth, in spirit form our natural state, the blue green planet searched, Amilius the first Adam came, first born of the one true God, We sprang into animal bodies, a subject of much mirth, no Frogs, death was no annhilatation. Some stayed too long in animal form and hardened, had to wait, went through the pain of death, the spirit joins his mates, 5 races started by Amilius, colors, black, white, brown, yellow and the red, Were started in 5 places, thoughts are deeds of the one Gods thought form, so the human race was bred. The Atlantean race were red of skin , In the mid Atlantic ocean, High explosives were used to rid them of Dinosaurs, Gas pockets joined the explosion, sunken land caused a commotion, almost annhilation.. Ra and Hermes built the great Pyramid, It took one hundred years, They were from Atlantis, where the sea drowning did, rear. Hermes the first and last Adam, Did float big blocks in the air, Thought form generated, Cut an shaped with perfect fair. Baptist John and Jesus studied, At the pyramid of Cheops, Initiated, prepared, thoughts flooded, Then they left the land of Egypt. Adam has returned many times, To help us here on earth, Not always noticed, steps Jesus climbed, Showed us the way to worth. Thoughts are deeds, from times of old, Could stop you dead, in deathly cold, Thought’s Indus valley Priests could hold, Your life gone in an instant. Don Johnson Why do we still have murderous terrorists, Fear is a great generator of thought form worry. Mass thoughts become deeds.


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In Walyunga

In Walyunga

There is a place I used to go
When I was fit and strong
The place it was called Walyunga
And I felt I did belong
In those hills above the river
I’d walk for countless miles
In those days, with healthy body
To walk, it was my style.

I’d walk until I found my place
Where there lived an old dead tree
I’d sit on it to meditate
And look right into me. 
Some times as I walked these hills
I’d hear a sound like thunder
And then I’d see a wondrous sight
In this place called Walyunga.

A horde of Kangaroos would come
As they thundered through those hills
They’d cross the track in front of me
And I would stand stock still
Then as they passed, the biggest guy
Would stop just yards from me
To see if I did pose a danger
He was a sight to see.

He’d stand there for a tiny while
Though it seemed like eons to me
Then when he saw I meant no harm
He satisfied would be
So he’d bound off to lead his horde
To the river they’d head for
Oh, seeing such a magic sight
Would fill me with such awe.


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Chloe

Those bright, helpless eyes staring up at me. Instantly I understand her 
thoughts, as she cannot speak.

I often find it difficult to comprehend  how much this tiny girl needs me. And she 
never puts up a fight even if we disagree.

The trust she has in me is unlike any kind. She has a heart of gold, like an angel 
and child combined.

Many people can't  understand how humans can create such a connection. From 
the moment I held her tiny body in my arms I knew her well being was my 
ultimate objection.

It's tough to imagine how complete she's made my soul. From a playful snare to 
a warning bark, heart you have stole.

Her name is Chloe and she's tiny as can be. She isn't my natural child but she's 
as close as a dog could ever be. `


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A Royal Date and a Late Night

Copyright 2014 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
POETIC LYRICS BY THOMAS LAM HSI (ANDRESS)
Dedicated to those who lost their hearts in search of the 'Valentine' of
their hearts!


Do you know...what you did to my heart...when I was hopeless
And without a date?
'Cuz...I was hopeless...and without a date!
HOPELESS...AND-WITHOUT-A...DATE!
HOPELESS...AND-WITHOUT-A...DATE!

You were royal...and-all-too-TRUE!
You were royal...and-all-too-TRUE!
And I was...HOPELESS...AND-WITHOUT-A/DATE!
I was...HOPELESS...AND-WITHOUT-A/DATE!

I was a surfer-girl...and you were/A-ROYAL!
You were/a-royal...and I was a/SURFER-GIRL!

Do oil-and-water/MIX?
Does/oil-and-water...MIX/WELL?
Do oil-and-water/MIX?
Does/oil-and-water..MIX/WELL?

White-nosed/with-a/ROYAL...A-SURFER-GIRL/with-your/DEEP-POCKETS!
White-nosed/with-a/ROYAL...A-SURFER-GIRL/with-your/DEEP-POCKETS!

Do the stars in heaven/LAST-LONG?
Have the legends/of the heavens...EVER-LASTED/LONG?
Do the stars in heaven/LAST-LONG?
Have the legends/of the heavens...EVER-LASTED/LONG?

Isn't it strange...how the rain/can-be painful...OR...BEAUTIFUL
IN THE MIDDLE-OF...THE-NIGHT?!?!
It can be so-strange...IN-THE-MIDDLE-OF-THE/NIGHT!

I was a simple/surfer-girl/and-you/WERE-A/ROYAL!
But ARTHUR/DOESN'T-SURF!

I was a simple/surfer-girl/and-you/WERE-A/ROYAL!
But ARTHUR/DOESN'T-SURF!

It was a/ROYAL-DATE...AND-A/LATE-NIGHT...and/way-way/too-LATE!
It was a/ROYAL-DATE...AND-A/LATE-NIGHT...and/way-way/too-LATE!

The instruction/book...said-to/ROLL-WITH-THE/WAVES...
BUT/TO-AVOID/THE-SHARKS!
The instruction/book...said-to/ROLL-WITH-THE/WAVES...
BUT/TO-AVOID/THE-SHARKS!

ARTHUR/DOESN'T-SURF...AND-DEEP-POCKETS...ARE PENNILESS!
ARTHUR/DOESN'T-SURF...AND-DEEP-POCKETS...ARE PENNILESS!

A simple/surfer-girl...SHOULD/KNOW-WELL!
A simple/surfer-girl...SHOULD/KNOW-WELL!

Your-teethy/SMILES...AND-DEEP/POCKETS...DON'T/ROLL-WELL!
Your-teethy/SMILES...AND-DEEP/POCKETS...DON'T/ROLL-WELL!

It was a/ROYAL-DATE...AND-A/LATE-NIGHT...and/way-way/too-LATE!
It was a/ROYAL-DATE...AND-A/LATE-NIGHT...and/way-way/too-LATE!

Momma-told-me...AND/Poppa-told-me...TO-HATE-HIM/OR-LEAVE-HIM!
I SHOULD'VE/HATED-YOU/AND-LEFT-YOU...TOO!

I SHOULD'VE/HATED-YOU/AND-LEFT-YOU...TOO!


Details | Ballad | |

Encircling the light

Beneath the moon, to the side they keep.
At night they fly and in day they sleep.
Against a window and up the wall,
from the ceiling, they will spiral and fall.
Shoulder of fur and wings of brown,
with rod-like antennae worn like a crown.
Hated as nuisances and pests by sight,
upon crops, upons socks, upon forests they blight.
Yet they are silent and harmless to all
Not aggression to recieve nor a sound to call.
Some can be vexing and troublesome to few,
But some can be useful from a different view.
Value in silk, from moths born recent,
fed and farmed for product that is decent.
into your room, from the window they enter
towards your light bulb, their gaze will center
be gentle, be kind, uncrushed they should stay.
one less creature for them to be prey.
A bane upon wool and a scourge upon cloth.
Also harmless and simple, the common Brown moth.


Details | Ballad | |

Tale of the Trickster: Part II

Devastating was it's loss and far was it's fall,
From fearsome roar, now but a weakened call.
Once stained with crimson of it's chosen prey,
now the white plumage whithers with grey.
Lofty was it's existence over mortal men
but a hunter had risen to cast down there and then.
A lesson had been learned and an era came to end,
The mighty trickster bird for itself could not fend.
But why was it called a trickster to most?
A trend from myth, a fisherman's boast.
As tale would tell, the bird's form would change,
Into shapes and sizes and others things strange.
A time before pride in a land not so far
A mountain over a village known as Olias Scar.
Silent were the nights around the simple abode,
All but the river, by the village it flowed.
Asleep were the villagers, all but for one,
One bed was empty, the blacksmith's son gone.
Down by the river, inspecting the bank,
Into the water, thrown stones sank.
Dreaming of wonderous things he did,
inpractical and silly, his father forbid.
His name was Kei and his life was quaint,
A roof and food, there wasn't complaint.
But yearn and lament for adventure and fame
Treasure to uncover and a dragon to tame.
Distraction was broken and his eyes grown wide
across the sky, a shooting star would glide.
First along the left, arcing in the sky,
until suddenly it turned towards the boy, but why?
Impact the river with a splashing wave,
Metres away from the boy, close shave.
Fear and worry sprung in his chest
But surely it would serve as some kind of test
glancing as the water begins to ripple and boil
Fear had subsided, replaced with roil.
Beneath the water, something living would stir
But what was this creature? Scale, feather or fur?