Sestina Animal Poems | Sestina Poems About Animal

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Details | Sestina | |

Life's Garden

Sometimes I get lost in my dreams,
just wanting to escape this stressful life. 
I lose my way in a garden full of flowers
and search for never ending love. 
The sun shimmers from the sky in the summer 
glorifying the beauty of nature.

Peaceful, unharmed, and experiencing nature 
while I am in God’s country, it is not a dream. 
The cotton clouds and fresh breeze of summer 
fill my mind and body with love. 
Woods full of animals; I didn’t recognize all the life 
that surrounded the creatures like trees and plants

growing every day like the blooming flowers.
The howling, chirps, and grunts of animals in nature 
searching for something, could it be love? 
Only pure happiness survives within a dream.
Danger lurks and protection is the goal of life. 
These living beings emerge for the summer.

A hoot from an owl in the summer, 
who is hidden in the dark trees like buds on flowers.
Up high, away from predators and saving its life, 
it looks down upon the traveling beasts of nature.
At night, the owl keeps eyes wide open and doesn’t dream. 
In the morning, eyes closed perched on a branch to love.

A deer is every camouflage hunter’s love. 
Killers mostly keep away in the summer.
A cornfield, apple tree, and salt-block dream, 
the elegant animal waltzes through the flowers.
The brush welcomes the creatures of nature 
to bed down and hide from the bullets of life.

You ask yourself, “What is life?
and respond, Full of living and love.”
To experience life and the miracle of nature 
reminds me of a perfectly warm day in the summer
full of a variety of exotic unspoken, colorful flowers
of which will always define a perfect dream.

I will always be a part of nature for it is my life. 
The open window in my dreams leads me to another love.
Sweet fragrant flowers pedal me back to the home of summer.

Copyright © Amanda Lipsinic | Year Posted 2015

Details | Sestina | |

Animal Freedom

Animal Freedom

A Christmas walk in soft sun of winter
Across crisp fields of umber and green,
A sharp breeze blowing with freedom
On their faces, aglow with the hope
Of seeing one again – a bird; their bird,
Soaring and diving defiantly so.

The eagle. Powerful, swift and so
Free. Wings outstretched on currents of winter
Warmth, rising higher than any other bird.
It’s golden feathers shimmering over green
Hills and clear blue skies, in the hope
Of spying prey, running in a last bid for freedom.

They looked and walked and talked in freedom,
Enjoying the country lanes and paths in so
Carefree a manner; such a rich land of hope,
Bursting with creatures alive in the winter
Meadows: robins, rabbits, hares, a green
Woodpecker, and many a chattering bird.

They paused to rest and listen to bird
Song and breeze, relishing in the freedom
At the heart of nature, so fresh and green;
When suddenly, they saw a bush shaking so
Violently. They stopped and stared, the winter
Wind? Too strong. They watched in hope

Of seeing something curious, or in the hope
Of discovering if this at last was their bird,
Hunting untamed in the wilds of winter.
They approached, careful not to intrude on the freedom
Of the wild, but all they could see was a fluttering so
Urgent, flapping wings, a rubbed-raw leg, a thread of green.

A blackbird was trapped on a branch by green
String; frantic, desperate panic, yet hope
Shone in its eyes, pleadingly so.
They spoke softly, carefully untying the bird,
Which flew off to the wind in a cry of freedom.
They felt proud, liberated, in a wonderland of winter.

They ran home for dinner of green sprouts and festive roast bird;

Bred in darkness and stench, no hope of daylight or freedom.
Incarcerated, deformed, wounded so bad, in a long-hardened winter.


Spare a thought for your turkey this Christmas… 

Copyright © Charlotte Kingsfield-Blake | Year Posted 2014

Details | Sestina | |

Squirrel On Notice Of Eviction

Malicious, plotting squirrel, sends its angry rain. Oh, the liberties it takes, with my precious fruit trees. A pear slams into my head; my temple, burning blue. Rising lump of blue, from vicious squirrel; swelling on my head from his violent pear-rain. Standing beneath the pear tree, I do a double-take. Squirrel always takes; gives nothing; leaving me so blue. Into the top of my pear tree, moved the squirrel; flinging his pear-rain, hard upon my head. The growing lump, smarts on my head. Whatever it takes, I’ll end this horror rain; I’ll make squirrel so very, very blue. I will dine on pears from my own trees! They are my trees! Stop hitting my head. How dare you, squirrel! You must not take all and beat me black and blue, with your violent pear-rain. Your angry, rabid rain, Of pears from my tree, built a gigantic lump of blue, upon my tender head. I’ll do whatever it takes to evict you, Mr. squirrel! No more, pelting pear rain; beneath sky of blue. You’ll leave my trees, whatever it takes! No more glaring lumps, upon my head; your notice, has been served, Mr. Squirrel.

Copyright © M. L. Kiser | Year Posted 2014

Details | Sestina | |

In A Shared Garden

In my vegetable garden, 
birds are watching me, pick 
green beans to eat.
A lone robin, scrounges for seeds, from sun flowers.
An old, twisted oak tree, 
filters the sunlight.

The cool, filtered light, 
is just right, for my garden.
Beneath that oak tree, 
are ripe tomato’s I need to pick,
for my supper.  Mr. Robin flits upwards to a sun flower.
He’s found his seeds and eats.

His fill, he’ll eat 
and rest in the moon’s light.
Ms. Deer gnaws only, flowers, 
as I leave the garden.
No doubt, if I hadn’t picked
My vegetables, already; he’d be devouring them, beneath that shady tree.

I chased her to a distant tree; 
tossed her an apple to eat.
She’ll be back to take her pick
More, I know, by the evening moon’s light.
She’ll return to devour my garden; 
and will also, eat the flowers.

I plant bulbs and flowers,
away from my garden and the tree; 
hoping Ms. Deer, will avoid, my garden; 
preferring to go and eat, 
by the evening moon’s light; 
while I sit with my guitar and pick.

Tomorrow, if they’re not eaten, 
I’ll go out and pick, 
a nice bouquet of table flowers, 
in morning sun’s, bright light.
As it filters though the trees, 
that grow beside my garden.

When evening comes, my guitar, I’ll pick, in the waning moon’s dim light.
Ms. Deer, her fill, of flowers, will eat.
Oak tree beds down, for the night, beside the garden.

Entered: Knight Writer's Club Grand Opening - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Tyshawn Knight

Copyright © M. L. Kiser | Year Posted 2014

Details | Sestina | |

Humane Struggle

In the Congolese Jungle three men are training for a mission.
They train to detain and disarm poachers.
They hope this will be the conclusion of their efforts.
They also train for a formidable alternative.
Poachers are opportunistic and have only self interest.
Poaching of an entire species will break ancient circle of life.

Congolese rangers are armed to protect the circle of life.
Supporting generations of all species is their mission.
They invest their lives in an important and altruistic interest.
For them there is no tolerance of poachers.
Killing fields of wasted animal carcasses is no alternative.
A better world for all species depends on their efforts.

Intensity shows on their faces because of their efforts.
There is anger and determination expressed for defense of life.
They seek surrender from poachers, but prepare for alternative.
African rangers prepare for their dangerous mission.
Rifles raised, knee on ground, they are ready for poachers.
There will be hands tied or bloodshed to defend their interest.

Rangers and humanity have a shared interest.
There is need for pressuring greater and continued efforts 
to stop any extinction of species by poachers.
The rangers’ trainer shouts and points as if saving life.
It is important to emphasize dangers during a mission.
If anything goes wrong there may be no alternative.

As long as species have breeding populations there is an alternative.
Continuing our circle of life must not be a debated interest.
Keeping our circle unbroken must be everybody’s mission.
More rangers and training are needed to improve efforts.
In blue fatigues and camouflage hats rangers defend life.
Their appearance is forceful and their gaze threatens poachers.

It is difficult to find, stop, and educate poachers.
But these undaunted rangers press and carry on our only alternative.
They crouch in jungles and pursue takers of life.
They grasp their rifles and nothing deters their interest.
An unrecognized, unseen enemy resides among them and their efforts.
In the grasses and leaves of jungles rangers take their mission.

Poachers and their self interest can no longer be tolerated.
Efforts to remove poachers’ damage to our circle of life, 
depends on the mission of rangers to give species an alternative.

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If you are intrigued by this work read and review G. D. Master’s book, “Interpretations,” free in PDF format on SmashWords.com. Simply enter “gd master” or “interpretations” in the search bar of SmashWords to find it.

Copyright © Graphite Drug | Year Posted 2016

Details | Sestina | |

Cross Species Awareness

Cross Species Awareness

Beneath a calm ocean, man watches a shark.
They are same in size, but one has advantage.
Man is wearing a wet suit and long swim fins.
Shark is naked and is not bearing its teeth.
Water passes silently through gills of stealthy predator.
Bubbles rise from apparatus of explorer.

A camera and lights fill hands of explorer.
Teeth and cunning fill front of shark.
Black tiger stripes and dark eyes of predator 
intensify beauty and exclaim an unrevealed advantage.
Locked behind its inquisitive nature are rows of sharp teeth.
It circles the diver, dipping and bending its fins.

A menacing fin on its back and long pointed side fins, 
the shark does not appear as clumsy as explorer.
A man clamps on to breathing device with his teeth, 
watching effortless movements of a curious shark.
There seems to be some wariness in the predator.
Its large dark eyes seem to measure any advantage.

Any threat to the sea’s occupant is from surface advantage.
The wary man’s feet rest on white sand trapped in fins.
He could kick and flap beneath waves, but is no predator.
He is either a very brave or very stupid explorer.
If the sea is a playground or battlefield it belongs to the shark.
If it decides, the king of the deep can bear its teeth.

It can open its gaping mouth and expose rows of teeth.
It can clamp on to soft flesh with an easy advantage.
Such things happen often in the life of a shark.
It swipes its tail side to side and climbs and dives with fins.
The only help for the diver is another explorer.
A spear gun or repellant may offend the predator.

There is not much comfort offending such a predator.
It will only find another place to sink its teeth.
It is a distracting thought for an underwater explorer,
to learn and gain knowledge under this creature’s advantage.
It may not speak; it doesn’t have hands, but does well with fins.
Ruling the depths, it is a majestic presence this shark.

A vicious predator with acute senses and sharp teeth, 
the shark patrols oceans riding currents with strong agile fins.
The explorer has the advantage of meeting it at peace.

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If you are intrigued by this work read and review G. D. Master’s book, “Interpretations,” free in PDF format on SmashWords.com. Simply enter “gd master” or “interpretations” in the search bar of SmashWords to find it.

Copyright © Graphite Drug | Year Posted 2016

Details | Sestina | |

Hatching Futility

Behind a counter in china shop sits a woman.
Between right thumb, index, middle, and ring fingers she holds an egg.
On the back wall are shelves with plates and fowl.
On the counter are eggs, a chicken, and a hatchling.
With all the chickens, chicks, and china her scene is surreal.
She seems enthralled by an absurd undecipherable task.

Making breakfast or baking cakes may be her task.
A pleated, tan apron and red head scarf are on this woman.
Again, her rural clothing and pale complexion make her scene surreal.
Between left thumb, middle, and ring fingers she holds an egg.
On the counter with wet feathers between egg shells lies a hatchling.
On the counter on a plate of brown eggs sits a large brown fowl.

On the shelves with plates are nests filled by various fowl.
Sorting eggs with her dainty touch may be this woman’s task.
On the counter walking through yolk is another hatchling.
A white shirt with black polka dots and ruffled shoulder sleeves is on this woman
Below her right hand in a coffee cup is a precariously balanced egg.
So many eggs and so many chickens horded into a china shop are surreal.

So many hens cackling and fuzzy chicks peeping in china shop is surreal.
On top shelf with beak opened wide sits a white fowl.
Busy with hands, this woman searches for place to put an egg.
She appears determined and perplexed trying to accomplish her task.
Blonde hair sticks out from under the head scarf of this woman.
Near two bluish, stacked tea cups are broken shells and another hatchling.

On a small plate with eggs, egg shells and yolk stands another hatchling.
With trimmed nails and clean clothes, her flustered appearance is surreal.
A braided blonde pony tail rests on the left shoulder of this frustrated woman.
On the middle shelf with a chick is a large grey speckled fowl.
Removing eggs and then chickens from the shop may be this woman’s task.
She may come back later to remove a more insecurely placed egg.

On the edge of the top tea cup is another precariously balanced egg.
Three more hens on the shelves each have a hatchling.
It could take her a long time to accomplish her task.
China plates, cups, and bowls with eggs, nests, and chickens are surreal.
The hens appear to be curious and territorial fowl.
Straight lips and narrow eyes lend a livid expression to this woman.

Many hens and eggs and a hatchling for each egg 
make for an infinitely long task for this poor woman.
It must be surreal emptying a china shop of reproducing fowl.

Copyright © Graphite Drug | Year Posted 2016