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Quatrain Animal Poems | Quatrain Poems About Animal

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

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The Wise Old Owl

The wise old owl has come today
To train a  young one in the way
Of all the things that it should know
So he can hoot and wisely grow

He'll show this one just what to do
So on it's own it'll fly so true
It's prey will never have a chance 
When it swoops down in it's death dance

He'll soar the skies,he'll  hide from view
He'll do the things he's been taught to do
Before you know it he'll be all grown
He'll be teaching others that are his own

But for right now he'll  have to learn
Of all these things til it's his turn
So that when he's older he will be
The wise old owl on a teaching spree


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Sympathy by Briton Riviere

The little girl sat alone on the step Thinking of what she had said and done Sad and alone, she needed a friend Gladly there appeared just the one A cold nose and a friendly lick Her dog snuggled up without question As always he needed no explanations There with the greatest of canine affection
Inspired by his 1878 picture- Sympathy go to Allposters.com/


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For Survival or Greed? (Co-written with James Fraser)

Note:  Following a rash of local breakins, thieves murdered two people who happened to be 
at home when they entered.  This event produced a lot of anxiety for me and James was 
kind enough to help divert my attention by joining in this write.  Many thanks to James, Tim 
and Dane Ann for their support during this difficult time. -- Carolyn




     A hungry gray feline sees a mouse; quickly does she pounce
     Instincts come into play as jungle creatures eye their prey
     Natural selection rules the vast animal kingdom
     By striking fast they earn the right to live another day 
 
We read in the papers and we watch on the news
As I look out my window, and ponder man's thoughts
What do we see, through our eyes as we view
Our ability to kill and leave one's life nought
 
     Complicated survival games play out each strenuous day
     From the frigid Arctic tundra to torrid dark jungles
     Beasts on the prowl are trekking nature's intended path
     Another victim falls as distant thunder rumbles 
 
Opportunists linger as the perpetrators dare
Man stalking down dark alleys and dimly-lit streets
Confronted, accosted in criminal stare 
Where the innocents in danger, generally meet
 
     Other members of the animal kingdom have no choice
     They slay only to keep themselves and their families alive
     But it's man who plays the most dangerous of games
     Killing for thrill, politics or greed; how can man survive?
 
It's the evil of man who takes what he wants
With the blade of a knife, with his terror taunts
His escalation from flint to gun
This most wonderful world in masculine haunt
 
     If man continues to develop harsh weapons
     The skies may explode in carnivorous fashion
     Consuming not just one animal species, but all
     Leaving angels to mourn the death of God's creations


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In the Meadow

Cows bellow, low, heads between rails
such large deep sad eyes, such full bags.
For whom do they await, no one home
to let them out, share out their milk.

Not long ago I saw you wandering off with him
his hand caressing your neck, gripping your arm
holding you stiff, obedient to his will
and you were bound to follow, no sound

escaped your lips, and me, why am I watching
for the scene to play out? Don’t we all know
don’t we all grieve, for the coming of that day
when cowl slips down, the bellow, low aches.

You won’t come home, will you my dear.
I guess I paid the right price for a job well done
Your cheating heart won’t bestir us to wait
Never more.  This farm is sold outright.


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My Great Grandpa

Great Grandpa Zerbst, I wish was here
I'd like him still around
He had a herd of Hereford cows
His farmin' sense was sound

He passed away when I was young
I'd only seen him twice
But even though his life was rough
I'm sure that he was nice

At first, he had some horse-drawn rigs
To grow his crop of wheat
A tractor then, in place of them
That had a metal seat

He had a herd of ninety cows
A huge Wyomin' spread
But now a herd of oil-rigs
Are drillin' in their stead

A lot of things Great Grandpa knew
From distant Germany
But now these things I wish I knew
Are buried 'neath a tree


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The kings of the night

The seemingly tranquil sky
blooming with stars soon
pierced by a distant cry
that seems to swoon.

Beneath dense trees standing tall
to touch dark canvas painted
after dusk, prowls the epiphany of all
mother nature’s tainted.

The wise are often alone
and the dangerous hated, 
but they express in moan
their solitude, once more grated.

Gradually their voices unite
in a song across the valley, 
seeming to smite
all of innocence’s nest.

The moon in her splendour moves
to comfort the carnivores that commence, 
and yet her beam soothes
not the beasts’ sense.

Torn between wrong and right
the moon spreads her swanlike wings amidst
the howls of her lovers, the kings of the night…
among the wolves in the mist. 


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The Trolls Come Out At Night

Some cat entered my room one night I thought it was a ghost It smelled like something had just died But I must oblige my guest as the host I turned on the light and there it was An obnoxious opossum at best! Whoa! Forget my host duties, cous! Take the room—I’m an unhappy guest! I left the house with a shutter Before I realized I was heavily surrounded By cats on all sides, up and under The house they had all just rounded! In truth I was perturbed on all levels That I began to realize in horror That damn opossum had spawned these little devils! And tonight I must end this terror! I then ran straight to the kitchen Aware of the opossum inside If I give up the tuna and ditch um’ Perhaps I’ll escape this night alive The persistent cats scratched at the holes Those buggers—those meddlers! They could have been thieves—if not trolls! Their yowls would scare sumo wrestlers! Worst of all in this dilemma Tomorrow was grocery day There were no more cans of tuna All my fish had swam away! Somehow one got in And the rest came barreling through I ran toward my room to him The opossum looked so distressed and blue The little beady eyes pierced my soul And I knew from then on he was my friend He only meant to hide from the furry little trolls And escape a most pitiful end! I made up my mind at last And picked up my trusty broom Come on in—I dare yah tah pass! Ain’t no feline coming through this room! Glowing eyes burned with intent And the yowling grew loud as hell The little bullies think they can take my guest! They’ll fly like birds they will! That night was a battle like none other A battle I will proudly say I won I gained the friend of my life—a brother My pet’s a load of fun! As much as I love a neighbor cat They are a little scary as a race Thankfully a broom will push them back And put them in their place My opossum is a sweet little thing And I protect him with my life I’ll never judge a critter again Till actions bring it to light


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Mulligan

Well, here I am sitting on the golf course
Watching the fireworks display overhead
Yes, I know I'm not as big as a horse
But at least one golfer I have misled

“Kerplunk"came the ball, bouncing off my shell
Casting it deep in the adjoining woods
That’s when I heard someone yell, “Mulligan”
They ran toward the golfer like a band of hoods

I was wondering how they knew my name
As they all ran toward the errant golf ball
And then banished the golfer from their game
Without asking if my shell had been mauled

There’s much food to be found on the golf course
So I still traverse many a fairway
But it never ceases to surprise me
How my name’s called when e’er balls go astray

Luckily my shell is hard as granite
Golf ball injuries I never sustain
So my Mulligan family moved here
Friendly golfers already know our name




*Written July 20, 2014 and inspired by the time my sister’s ball bounced off a 
turtle’s back and into the woods.  She’s a two-time hole in one gal, so this was 
not a funny story for her.
Wikipedia definition of "Mulligan" - In golf, a mulligan is a stroke that is replayed from the spot of the previous stroke without penalty, due to an errant shot made on the previous stroke. The result is, as the hole is played and scored, as if the first errant shot had never been made. This practice is disallowed entirely by strict rules and players who attempt it or agree to let it happen may be disqualified from sanctioned competitions.




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The tigress' mark

She prowls the night
with clenched jaw and pride,
nothing able to smite
her remorseless stride.

The ominous reflection of moon 
shines forth from devouring eyes
of a nocturnal beauty spun on the loom
of the Creator's bid and sighs.

Grace moves her every limb
and she precedes an enraged scream
caused by ruins of a forest now grim
and held alive by all but one stream.

Her claws prophesy of vengeance 
though her heart yearns for reconciliation.
Yet now there would be no leniency 
for a soul's annihilation. 

Now on journeys through lush valleys and ashes
she will embark
until all that remains after furious thrashes
will be the tigress' mark.


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RUMOR HAS IT


1.
Rumor has it on heavens above
Among the angels’ divine sphere
That God after very much though  
Decided in man’s life to interfere     

2.
For He has observed Man’s mistakes 
Which lately too many came to be
To endanger the whole of creation 
Act with which God can never agree

3.
So the Lord has most recently chosen  
The book of life before long to reprint 
Revising certain of its very old chapters 
While others out will leave, He has hint  

4.
The concern of humans is now to know      
Which chapters the book will not contain, 
Which are going to be, somehow, revised 
And which intact will forever remain 

5.
What was heard through the vine though,   
It was Man’s huge and unbearable vanity 
That made our almighty Lord and creator 
To finally exclude the chapter of humanity  

6.
The reason our God in His infinitive wisdom
Reached such unexpected for Mankind conclusion 
Is the fact that Man during his reign on earth
Has hurt our planet with his insensitive intrusion

7.
It might still be time for Man overall to be saved    
If he started correcting his many mistakes soon
Beginning by respecting life and the whole planet  
And stop behaving as a dim-witted buffoon.  


© Demetrios Trifiatis
   17 APRIL 2014


* According to UN’s most recent report (March 2014) “We  are in an era where 
climate change isn’t some kind of future hypothetical,” said Chris Field, one of 
the  two main authors of the report, and Rajendra Pachari chair of the IPCC 
(Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change) added: “Nobody on this planet 
is going to be untouched by climate change.” For that UN suggested measures 
to be taken immediately for to save the planet.
 Moreover, the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences ( PNAS), 
announced that  " Researchers have found out that pollutants are strengthening storms ...plus endanger the health of people."


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Cat

Black cat lays on low fence wall,
veiled in cover of night.
Spell broken by owners call,
evenings victims respite.


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Man's Bestest Friend



Golden Retrievers are the bestest friends They'll love you no matter what Even if you've just had the worst day ever These charmers your heart will touch Their wagging tails are a good indication You're their favourite supplier of love They're also aware you're a supplier of food There's no higher friendship above They're the bestest friend a man can have They trust you to the nth degree Treat them kindly, they're almost like people Except when they need to pee Then they cross their eyes and cross their legs And dance back and forth, to and fro But they never complain, just motor along Unless of course you react to slow Golden Retrievers are the bestest friends They'll love you no matter what They'll love you even if the sky's falling down The bestest damn friend you've got © Jack Ellison 2014


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Who Murdered the Easter Bunny

Sam, the box turtle, sauntered down deserted gravel road;
when he bumped into Elli, a gorgeous, slender, green toad.
Together they stopped to admire the rustic scenery;
noting, Bunny would like hiding eggs in all that greenery.

Easter will be in a few weeks, kids will have fun hunting eggs;
Bunny would be quite busy hopping on two spindly legs.
Sadie, a monarch butterfly fluttered into their path;
she was perched on a tree branch taking her daily sun bath.

“Hi!” she said to Sam and Sadie. “Have you heard hottest news?
The Easter Bunny was murdered, on the headline reviews.”
Sam and Sadie were speechless, much too shocked to say the least;
who murdered the Easter Bunny, who was the wicked beast?

No one could think of anyone who wanted Bunny killed,
the whole town was suspected, everyone thoroughly grilled.
It couldn’t be Sam or Sadie; they were not at the scene;
whoever it was, they were desperate, extremely mean.

Small town sheriff investigated the deadly crime site;
there lay Bunny sprawled along the roadside, eggs colored bright.
Struck down by angry mother hawk, thought he robbed her love nest;
sheriff pulled out the handcuffs, placed mother under arrest.

Copyright © 2013 By Caryl S. Muzzey


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Dear Inconsiderate

You’re always dragging on me--
got your sticky icky leavings all
pver the place, 
any place most inconvenient.

Always kind of spooky, nervous
but defiant too, back up
step out, get nose to nose
as if to say you’re here for good.

I know it’s you, at night, tasting
my eyes, making me wiggle
and a little itchy
squirmy but never squished, somehow…

One day there’s one of you,
lurking in a corner, the next, a window,
under floorboards, cupboards, skittering

all over my floor and ceilings
and in my clothes so when I undress
there you are, sitting like a star
right on my breast. Okay. I needed that.

To scream. Whack at something
so terribly invasive, biting,
so terribly unobtrusive, until
you leave your icky sticky leavings

as bumps all over me. When 
were you walking over me, in the dark
while I dreamed, taking over 
saying I’m a leaving little spider left.


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Aging Heart

Time runs fast when we are young,
As fast as human eyes can blink.
Turn away and there it goes,
What youth we have will slowly sink.

It runs with legs that won’t tire
So that your aging heart may sleep.
Close your eyes and let it fall,
The fruits you’ve reaped are yours to keep.

Does the river dry when you
Have passed the rapids of this ride?
Open your eyes so you may see
The world you’re bound to on this tide.


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Winter's Blanket

All night long the snow was falling
Day revealed a blanket white
Snow still floated from the heavens
Making such a pretty sight

Trees are weighed with heavy burdens
Fences topped with pointed hats
In the yard a complex pattern
Where the snow went through the slats

Quail are hopping by the window
Making little trails of tracks
Deer are stripping down the bushes
Shaking snowflakes off their backs

Though the day is white and cloudy
Still the snowflakes seem to speak
Saying, "Look at winter's blanket
It is perfect and unique."

I can't wait to make some snowballs
See the snowflakes flying by
And to feel the snowflakes stinging 
As I look into the sky

So I'll make myself a fire
And I'll heat myself some tea
Then I'll build a giant snowman
For the neighbor folks to see

When I get all wet and snowy
And my fingers get too cold
Then I'll make the biggest cookies
That my stove could ever hold



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The Synathroesmic Cow

Kooky cow,short- horned with humped back from east,
Thick white furs spotted like the jungle beast,
Your long brownish-black tail drives off the flies,
Thanks! O` egret for picking off  its lice.

Slow chewing of cuds deep into the night,
Legs shaking, teeth grinding a normal  rite,
Grass cutting diastema with mucus nose,
dripping down slowly to add to this  dose.

All-day your body moves  rickety  way,
Sluggishly lying down  like potter`s clay,
Milk oozing from a brown nipple big breast,
Rancid and congealed on the skin like crest.



CONTEST:"The Synathroesmic Cat" sponsored by Suzanne Delaney


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Winter Woods

Winter wears
a warm white coat,
and wraps a scarf
around her throat.

She knits the trees
lacy white caps,
and carpets with snow,
growing things that nap.

Then in the morning,
when hungry creatures wake,
she fills their bowls
with frosted flakes.


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Leaves That Are Green


A young bud sprouts from its parent plant
and blossoms to a lovely rose before long
With time, its beauty fades and it dries up
and the leaves that are green turn to brown

A young sapling takes root and flourishes
Soon a mighty oak stands firm on the ground
With time, it decays to a dried up old tree
and the leaves that are green turn to brown

A baby bird sitting helplessly in its nest
grows into a majestic eagle strong
With time, its glory fades as it ages
and the leaves that are green turn to brown

A defenceless lion cub hidden in its lair
matures into the mightiest beast around
With time, he becomes a decrepit old male
and the leaves that are green turn to brown

A beautiful angelic darling baby girl
becomes a world beauty and wins the crown
With time, wrinkles and old age take their toll
and the leaves that are green turn to brown

Hello to a new life of hope and promise
Goodbye to a life that's now going down
Time marches on irreversibly 
and the leaves that are green turn to brown





All life starts off fresh and beautiful, matures, decays and then passes away in an unavoidable cycle as Time marches on irreversibly.


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First Roach

  Scrambling across my basin sink

               What is it that you must think.

               Of this unnatural habitat

               We bipedal anthropomorphs live at.

 

               The arrogance you must perceive

               Is but our bent to self-deceive

               Ourselves and all who invade

               Our omnipotent barricade.

 

               Our divine right we must protect

               Lest we admit to some defect.

               You may rightly be contemptuous

               Of our small world pretentious.

 

               Another being will this way come -

               A specie more adventuresome.

               And in our domain it will supplant us

               After an event calamitous.        

                                                 g Tiberius


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Golden Retrievers



For those who've never owned a dog Your life has been missing a treat The greatest feeling ever known to man The epitome of love at your feet Most loyal companion we've ever known Our Golden Retriever is that The most happy joyful disposition ever We learn a lot from this fact In spite of all of our many problems These guys are always there They cheer us up and help us realize Life's simple secret is to share Share the love that's in everyone's heart Nothing's more important in life Doggies know, pay attention my friends Their loyalty gets rid of our strife © Jack Ellison 2014


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In Defense Of The Rain

Some folks like to complain
And are very fickle
They fume when rain is falling
And fret at a mere drizzle

Wild birds and animals
They all need the rain
Which gives them water
For their lives to sustain

The plants and the trees
And all the lovely flowers
For them to grow and flourish
They also need the showers

The food crops that are grown
To provide food for us all
Each of them would perish
If the rain did not fall

So please think of these things
Before you start complaining
And creating a lot of fuss
The next time rain is falling


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The Snail


The little snail made his way across the walk
Proudly carrying his brown house upon his back
I stopped to watch him so slowly inch along
Cringing at the sticky goo that marked his track

I admit I smiled, thought him cute in his own way
As he finally made his way into the flower garden
Wondering if he even had a thought or two at all
Or just ate my plants without my grudging  pardon





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Eagle

Lone and proud, soaring up high
Looking at you I understand why
You stay away and never come down
Why you`re a king without a crown

Made not to hold or to be held gently 
Your look and touch are sharp, unfriendly
On earth you cause death, hurt and damage
But that`s how, to your maker, you pay homage

Your nature you can`t possibly deny
Every attempt made is hopeless, futile
You are avoided, feared, or even hated
Curious sentiments by ignorance created



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fat kat

There once was a very large cat
who once ate a very small rat
The rat tasted very bad
and made the cat very sad.


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The Cats Next Door

She sits in the window stoic,
Cool black fur she ardently licks.
Yellow-green stars stare hard at me,
This siren's seduction to be. 

Silence between the window glass,
Keeps me from knowing her tasks.
Her sister white and brown and fat
Takes over the window in fact.

Through the lancet they calmly sleep,
The beautiful bodies so sleek.
Their thoughts fly with spirits unknown,
Cast in an angelic new home.

The cold makes me close the front door,
So I miss them now even more.
To say sweet goodbye to my friends,
Tomorrow morn we meet again.

Now I must continue my day,
For I 'm lazy they will all say.
Those cats touched me to the marrow,
Last, they will be here tomorrow.


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Snowflakes Escape

            Snowflakes Escape

At the crack of dawn shots rang out
Ducks scattered at the sound
Obscenities quacked back from every beak
Hunters were not there for them

They came to capture fox
Snow fell with cartridges as hunters froze in thought 
In perfect orchestration with the day and perfect aim
Focused on the games in nature

Bringing down their prey with rifles
Setting traps along the way
Men bundled in pillow white disguise
Running with their dogs and guns through narrow paths

Towering trees held green along the way
Held their ground below the mountain
Hunters settled
Looking for some warmth after the captures


Campfires blazed
Storms rolled in on bitter winds
Enter the calm
Large swirling flakes continued on the quiet

Each one avoiding warmth to hold their form
Away from creatures clad in natures white, like fox
Away from bundled men disguised in white
Snowflakes made their escape into the silence

 
  


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Spark of an Owl

The night is still dreary, a grey sky Dismal and cold, a usual winter night There isn’t much hope within the wind Nothing exists save for a special light In fact there are two of them, in a tree They’re reflections from the eyes of an owl In the grey backdrop they glow so bright Like an animal that is on a prowl The owl is the spark of pure energy Shining within its soul, beyond the dark Taking the darkness to higher heights Putting life in the grey, just to embark The tree within the fog is barely seen But the owl’s eyes are bright, a mighty sight One can hear the hoots of the owl around But what he emits from his eyes is white I may not see in the depths of the night And the evening might be grey with dismay However his eyes bring forth hopeful sight A beam of life within the darkness’s cliché
Russell Sivey


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Life in The Country

A bit of life I cut and paste
The country life I share
So you can have a little taste
Of what it's like out their

We've bats that hit those not on guard
With song birds that alight
The bulls they charge without a card
Oh dear, that's just not right

A buck that rams all it can see
Now it sees very much 
A ram that bucks the likes of me
Now that has him in dutch

The geese will pinch you with their bills
At least they do not charge
The barn cats eat our food til filled
But love from me they sparge

The rabbits keep on making more
Each will have eight I say
That's one reason cats are here
So rabbits run away

The farm that's in the dell some shun
But it to me is home
So take a trip and have some fun
You'll find there's space to roam.


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She Doesn't Know She's a Dog

Her name is Apogee Sausalito,
she is tiny, feisty and black;
when she romps with Tricia,
she thinks she's a cat.

The crafty feline hides
on the dining room chair;
'round and 'round the table,
the dog circles her there.

Behind the tablecloth,
the cat keeps watch;
reaches out with her paw,
and gives S'Lito a swat.

It's a game they both love;
each day's regular routine,
we enjoy their frisky antics
with morning coffee and cream.


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My Dog named Shiva

My dog, named Shiva

I had a dog, named Shiva
So very long ago
Then one day I did grieve her
The tears how they did flow

We used to walk for miles
Us two, Shiva and I
Oh how she fills my heart with smiles
As the days they pass me by

My Shiva she took ill one day
My best friend she did die
My days oh, how they turned so grey
As in death she did lie

A dog is such a wonder
Mans best friend he be
My heart it felt like thunder
I was in such misery

When I was sad and miserable
So loving she would be
Oh, Shiva was so wonderful
I adored her endlessly.

17 November 2014


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Uninvited Guests

Early this morning, I found,
much to my chagrin,
the flowers in my garden
were as if they’d never been.

Bitten off above the soil,
green stubs left aground.
Mad enough to spit nails,
I fussed and stomped around.

It was easy to discover,
who the culprits were.
They left telling evidence
indented in the dirt there.

Their hoof prints tracked
all around the flowerbed;
no blossoms for my soul today,
food in their stomachs instead.



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Countdown

Our hill was steep, red clay rock;
hardly anything thrived there.
Stubborn blossoms of meager size
bobbed on stems spindly and bare.

The green shoots struggled up 
thru last year's mulch and sticks,
to leaf and bud and then unfold
a crown of rosebuds, I counted six.

But lo, one morning, I came out
and found there, to my surprise,
one rose had vanished, poof,
now they numbered only five.

No tracks betrayed the thief,
revealing why the stem was bare.
Throughout the day, I kept watch
but of the culprit, saw not a hair.

Early next morn I sprang from bed
and rushed right out the door.
Oh, no - hungry beast was here
and left me roses numbering four.

Rain welcomed the following day.
Through the window, I could see-
a rose a day this creature needs.
Catching raindrops, thirsty three.

That night, planning to keep watch,
maybe whop him with my shoe;
I fell asleep and woke to find,
he'd done his deed and left me two.

With next day's dawn and rain gone,
sneaky thief came with the sun,
munched his breakfast on his own.
Lovely roses surviving, only one.

When night settled, I set the alarm,
awoke and rose at early dawn.
A tiny chipmunk of great charm
held a rose within his arms.

He sat there in the cutest pose,
nibbling on the last pink rose.
Throw my shoe, do you suppose?
No, I smiled and watched the show.


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Of Mice and Moles

Since moving to the country 
this fact has come to light,
maintaining our new home
gives us a battle to fight.

Newly graded and seeded lawn
quickly became uneven ground,
mole runs crisscrossed acres,
flowerbeds raided, bulbs gone.

Two hundred tulip bulbs  
along the fence last fall
produced not a single bloom,
little robbers ate them all.

We consulted local nurseries,
bought whatever they suggested.
Worked diligently all summer
but still were mole infested.

All remedies failed, until 
he answered a TV promotion. 
A sure-fire trap, with video,
guaranteed rodent extinction. 

"Wow, this really works," he said
"fifteen moles, I've zapped."
But moles must have internet,
mole runs detoured around traps.

Now he's using another method
flushes runs with a garden hose,
when the little sucker surfaces,
bashes him squarely on the nose.

Works well for my mighty hunter,
the toll is now twenty-two
but alas, a new battle arises,
cool weather brings someone new.

There's a mouse in the house
who's eluding every trap.
In spite of frantic searching, 
we have two frustrated cats.


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Protecting the Helpless

Three years running, she came
and diligently built her nest,
sheltered from the wind and rain
in a spot she thought was best .

Yet there's one regrettable flaw.
Placed four feet from our door,
built of mud, fluff and straw -
this year, the same as before.

Does expectant mother not know
she's gambling with babies' lives?
Two eager cats live just below,
watching with greedy, shining eyes.

For most of earth's innocent few,
danger lurks on every hand,
unless there is someone who
takes a clear, protective stand.

The cats are quarantined inside
till baby birds fly on their own.
When that day finally arrives,
another cycle - here and gone.


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Sleepy Sasquatch

Sasquatch; please don't follow me.
Turn away; and go.
Take your shaggy hair away.
You frighten me:  you know.

Please don't growl about me,
stalking me this far.
Try to keep your distance.
I have no wish to spar.

Where are you all from?
Far; from in the bush?
Hiding from us humans:
eating swamp-like mush.

What has brought you out here
circliing me from far?
Have I ticked you off,
or where your nestings are?

Here I come to shoot you.
I'll fill you full of lead.
And if it means I kill you
you'll be the proof as dead.

Wake-up sleepy Sasquatch.
I didn't mean to shoot.
I'm sorry that I shot you
and filled you full of soot.

Only now; we know you're real.
Your body final proof.
And when they stuff and mount you
we'll growl at you and woof!

Wake-up sleepy Sasquatch.
Why won't you speak as proof?
Don't make us tease and taunt you.
It's not the same to spoof.

Wake-up sleepy Sasquatch.
It's like you're still aloof.
Even with your body,
It's like you just went poof!


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Weathered Wall

(A Salute to Robert Frost)

A fence of hand-hewn rock spans miles
of wind-swept road through fields of grain.
Uneven edge of rock, worn smooth
by storm’s hard breath of gust and rain

withstands the force which seeks to bend
or break a monument of time.
It hugs the earth and thumbs its nose
at energy so misaligned.

It boldly stands today as yore,
protects both wheat and corn for miles
and welcomes only human form
to walk beyond its stalwart stiles.

But flush against its weathered brow
there leans a heavy-laden tree
with pungent scent and rose-red glow,
forgotten apples hanging free

for horse or deer or bovine teeth
to reach across unyielding stone
and quench a thirst or hunger keen
with only crunch to thus intone.

May some always so hang, unpicked,
may much escape our stated plan
a fruit or such forgot and left,
to nibble sweetness with no blame.



       


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Christmas Joy

Early one Christmas morn
my eyes flew open wide,
found no gifts under the tree
so I ran to look outside.

Everywhere, on the ground
lay mounds of fluffy snow
and parked right in front,
topped with a big red bow,

was my trusty old wagon
full of presents galore.
Four eyes peeked out and
made my emotions soar.

Two furry little playmates
to fill the hours of my days
full of love and amusement
with their wild, playful ways.