Antlered Poems | Examples

The Gun Shop

The gun seems gun-shy in this space;
where deer hides hang on rustic walls
and granddad-tick-tocks beat, instead
of hearts in hollowed skins. The gun

 a “trophy-bagger” in its rack, 
 a loud-mouth predator at rest,
 this motherless, brother-less thug
 perceives no pity-pangs... the gun

now quiet, buckshot empty, cold. 
Above the stove’s phoenix soul hangs
an antlered head with prideful tines
the man, with bear-paw hands, had won.

A fox in freeze-frame-trot, a stiff 
with cat glass eyes, attests his prize. 
Indeed, like litterfall they fell, 
unseen his haunt in hunter gear, his gun

a junkyard dog of steel. I say
they're beautiful in life. He says
they’re beautiful in death. Between
our words — a stand of pine — the shot!

that brought the shock of ammo air
that rib-cage-ripped and broke the breath,
that hurled the crows against the sky —
the blast that felled the 10-point buck that failed to sense your goddamn gun!

Yeah... blame the buck his reckless pose
and buckled throes. You felt the king!
Behind tight trees you sat with dawn
in sniper-silhouette. The gun 

felt nothing; no remorse, no joy
—it, too, hangs upon the wall.

Gambling In the Forest

Gambling in the forest took on a whole new flavor today.
The princess Adrianna joined us, bringing dice to the fray.
We shook them and threw them, hoping for the big win.
Antlered deer had trouble, his hoofs are so thick, not thin.

Barn owl came to join us, he likes red apples too.
We congratulated him on his flight and the way he flew.
Antlered deer asked us to give him another roll, please.
We said okay, but the dice flipped over against the breeze.

He is cheating! The spoiled pointy-hatted princess yelled.
An arrow came by, but it was quickly diverted and felled.
Gambling in the forest is great! Said the rabbit up high.
All I want is one apple the deer said with a cough and sigh.

The Crisping Days of Autumn

Petals are withering on late blooming roses 
My Summer garden is beginning to fade
Maples are shedding their last clinging leaves
Amber fields are ready for Fall's gathering

There's a faint chill wafting in the air.
I call it the crisping days of Autumn
and the first hint of a seasonal change
My pastoral view is worthy of a painting
Tomorrow, I'll sketch the visions before me
layers of bold colors as I walk down the lane.

I hear the wind traveling through bare limbs
It seems to be whistling a lively gypsy tune
A song that brings out the wanderer in me
making me quite envious of geese on wing,
honking as they quickly travel south bound.

A stag proudly stands atop the hill
reigning like a king in antlered crown
His warm breath exhaled in a clouded mist
Happy he's caught the attention of a doe.

Autumn has always awakened the artist in me
with its bold palette of crimson, umber and gold
Ruffled russet gowns, once adorning tree limbs
lay wrinkled and scattered across the forest floor

Brushes and canvas await my hand.
It's decor is a kaleidoscope of colors
From sketches I'll paint Autumnal scenes
It's a gift Nature generously offers to me.

Ice Fishing

You may shoot a round of golf with your goofy neighbor Rolf,
or smack handballs 'round until your fingers bleed.
You may pump your mountain bike up the peak named after Pike,
and I'm sure we'll all applaud the mighty deed.

You may hunt the antlered moose, you may perforate a goose,
or with bow in hand confront the ring necked pheasant.
But a sportsman's not a hero t'il he fishes in sub-zero
temperatures that lesser men would find unpleasant.

There is nothing quite as nice as to lumber 'cross the ice
when the northern lights are shimmering o'er the pole.
With your tip-ups and your thermos and frost bitten epidermis
and a double headed axe to chop the hole.

On your upturned spacklin' pail there you'll squat through sleet and hail,
and snow so deep that folks can't see your hat.
And some may call you "nuts", and some "a silly putz",
but you're a proud ice fishin' man for all of that.

Though you've never caught a trout and never will, I doubt,
that the prospect of a catch is what will tug ya,
to the frozen lake each season; no you do it for the reason,
it's the only place your spouse won't go to bug ya.

A Day In Denali

The phone app said "unhealthy"
To describe Denali's air.
The sky was gray and smoky
All the hours we were there.

So we were disappointed;
Thought the day would be a bust
'Til somebody hollered "Moose!"
Our brakes kicked up a heap of dust.

A mother moose and baby
Ambled by in camera range.
Then an antlered caribou strolled close - 
Our luck began to change.

More caribou were spotted
In the distance, in a herd,
Then a sharp-eyed passenger yelled out
That much-awaited word:

"Bear!" We all looked over
And a grizzly came in view.
He lumbered in the bushes 
Seeking berries where they grew.

Our fortune held - the driver spied
A most impressive lynx,
Who crossed the road both back and forth.
(Just showing off, methinks.)

A final sighting- quite a brood
Of willow ptarmigan
(They're the state bird of Alaska)
Got the cameras out again.

We saw no sheep or eagles
And the sky was far from blue.
What a treat, though, watching wildlife!
(And they never even knew...)

Encounter On the Logging Trail

A frosty mist caressed my face
As I chanced upon the place
Sitting high upon my load
Of pine logs on this snowy road

Urging Mike and Molly on
With steady strides their carillons
Were jingling-jangling through the air
And mingling with the treetops there

My horses turned their snorting snouts
And startled me to look about
Two bulls were marching up the hill
A cow on top was standing still

The younger Bull Moose strode in front
The old one followed with a grunt
What a pure majestic sight
To witness in this failing light

This stately king of forest pride
His hernial horns were five feet wide
An antlered crown like a canoe
One touch and younger bull withdrew

So urging Mike and Molly on
With steady strides their carillons
Were jingling-jangling through the air
And mingling with the antlers there

If I had turned my head again
I would have seen romance's end
The smaller bull with puny rack
Grunted twice and turned his back

With Grandkids At the Zoo

If you were at the zoo today,
Perhaps you also viewed
Some bison and a tiger
With a regal attitude.

Some antlered deer and tortoises,
Some lemurs, fish and snakes
And every creature making sounds
That Old MacDonald makes.

But if you were observant
Then you might have seen as well
A tired foursome riding
On the insect carousel.

The 3 year old delighted 
In his up and down-type bug
With his nana standing shotgun,
Arms protecting with a hug.

While the 1 year old and grandpa
Sat behind and took it in,
Both enjoying as they circled,
Each displaying quite a grin.

Yet upon a close inspection
You would say, and you'd be right,
That the 4 of them will very likely
Sleep real well tonight!

Barometer Deer

A snow white deer was downed by a hunter.
A once in a lifetime trophy, he boasted.
Some folks were crimson pissed 
because a snow-white deer is very rare,
a sign of good things to come. 

The purist of beings to reappear....
an antlered angel... wearing a message 
a reminder that God is still present, 
still looking after- picking up 
after 
us.
From the edge of our acid cloud, sludge streams
burning forest of Dali dreams.
Waiting for the perfect time.
The perfect time 
to float above the clearing.
To cleanse
to whisper "there's still miracles-miracles abound
there's still time to turn negativities into lacy dreams.
Knead bullets into butterflies and mustard seeds.
Spin the planet back from black to aquamarine".

 To the hunter it was just a leaping piece of meat
to be silenced-d- skinned- devoured displayed...
owned. 

Now some people want to bow the hunter down
you know, nail his polyester neck to the forest wall
for stuffing his miracle.

Perhaps the white deer was a test. 
God's barometer, to see where our souls are really at...

Love of Nature

Looking to God’s glorious sky reigning over His creation
As all of His birds fly above each and every single nation
From the tiniest of insects to the very large Great Whale
In all of it His Glory reflects so to see it you can not fail

Just listen to all the sound His Hand holding everything in place
Such a joy I have found just looking into God’s Face
Looking out on the horizon touching the vast sea so blue
A small child just having fun for everyday I learn something new

Just the variety never mind the amount as Darwin scratches his head
Too many for him to count so he just flubbed it instead
And with all our Creator’s humor like the parrot, the talking breed
Now Darwin knows what’s in store as stated in the Apostles Creed

The sheep the goat and the antlered antelope 
Every word Scripture ever wrote though you can’t imagine the scope
The grass is green as the lilies bloom a man walking his best friend
Not to shed gloom but the Lord told you it will all come to an end

All Over Adorning

Stars are in wide sky all over adorning;
Left when they saw start of next warning;
Flowers flourished and are fully bloomed;
Here, there and everywhere as I assumed.

Nature near and far would normally appear
Just like she had before year after year
Here along the entire Carolina coast
Who my mind in became deeply engrossed.

Will write this poem which I shall share
About my Carolina and every where
That has become extraordinary to me;
God never charges and is for free.

In field, found deer with fawn and doe
And big, antlered stag going to and fro;
Then heard a horse who started panting
While people were carefully planting.

Cars went whizzing up and down road
And at night all of their headlights glowed
After finishing work for one more day
Or pick up child who always likes to play.

Saw feathered hawk fly high overhead
Then said prayers before going to bed;
God made Carolina such a glorious scene;
Conifer trees with cones and grass so green.

Tall trees still sway with a warm breeze
And before God, I fall on my knees
Truly thanking Him for what was here
And my lovely wife who is close and near.

Autumn's Breath

Dry leaves rustle with each step
Noisy autumn here beneath my feet
My golden wood  a wondrous place
Woodpecker's song repeat, repeat...

The stag his antlered crown parades
While gleaning in the harvest fields
The pheasant cock calls his mate
Such small wonders this autumn yields...

The fire draws me to sit awhile
And ponder the passing of the year
How quickly it is autumn's time again
Time to remember and hold it dear

Year One

YEAR ONE

suddenly alert
this splendidly antlered stag
looked star-skyward

and the many beasts
all watching the sky-bright night
were warmed and at peace

Red Orchard

I don’t remember 
much about the day the deer jumped 
the fence and broke its neck.  

Late summer and I inhaled 
the plump morning air—red 
apples, brown
sugar and grass, my 
pudgy feet padding the damp
linoleum squares
where sunlit streams flooded gol-
den through the yawning kitchen window.   

And out that window, just beyond 
the five-foot chain link line,
an antlered buck 
lay, his great head twisted 
toward an ‘appled’ sky.

Then my mother 
a steam kettle whist-
ling “look away! look away!” “look away!”
and my father’s whispers 
thick curtains closing 
on the jagged red light rising.

The Buck

The light is fading, evening breaks
Between the oaken woods and lake,
It's time to finish with the row
And homeward bound, the trail to take.

With rake in hand I turn to go
To find my pick axe and the hoe,
When from the trail there ran a buck
And right behind him came two doe.

At first I thought, what rotten luck!
I left my rifle in the truck,
Then, as he stopped to look my way
He gave his tail a flip and tuck.

And then he spun and bounced away
The doe behind him sleek and grey,
Crashing through the brush and vine
Into the woods and welcomed shade.

He must have sported twenty tine
I thought as Shadow starts to whine,
Asking, should he give him chase?
I pat his head in soft decline.

The sun is gone upon my face
To lose the buck is no disgrace,
Although today I've been undone
There'll be another time and place.

Today the buck has rightly won
The hunters gone, the season done,
Perhaps we'll meet again next year
Before the season's had it's run.

The buck was ancient, and I fear
He may not see another year,
But then, another year is seldom clear
For man, or dog, or antlered deer.


                     Timothy I. Brumley

Text Sketching

To create a picture two or three faint lines are drawn
To establish the perspective of what's  yet unseen
To let eyes to travel easily and harmoniously  over it.
Like smoke rising over a  newborn mist of  valley
A wisp of curving cloud catches at  wing tip of a circling hawk
A bubbling stream racing down to awake a sleeping village
On the edge of water and golden gorse a tall full antlered buck
Watching his mate of the moment steal a last bite
Before they both flee the coming bright of day
The wind rises to erase the picture even as  it forms
Whipping the smoke to haze
Taking the wisp of cloud and blowing dust 
into the eyes of the prey the hawk is watching
driving his breakfast back into the ground.
Carrying unpleasant scents to the spring toed deer
As white tails bounce into secret woods
A picture in time  presented by a blinded artist with a lute
Or an all seeing explosive man
Who cannot tell you how his mind can rhyme 
Or reason from one moment to the next 
Another sketch in text

• Short Antlered Poems
• Famous Antlered Poems
• Best Antlered Poems
• Read Antlered Poems
• Long Antlered Poems
• Antlered Quotes