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Best Boar Poems | Poetry

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New Boar Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Boar poems are below this new poems list.

The Boar of Dumm - a Jabberwocky parody by Writer, Amice
Tracey and The Boar by Foster, Gail
What a boar - limerick contest by Roberts, Seren
Our Boar Head Bar Maiden by Goodson, Mark
Wild Boar by Knop, Gert W.
A Rabid Boar (Footle) by Anderson, Jimmy

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The Best Boar Poems

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FOREPLAY

Yer briny whore
akin to boar
wit' mangy hide 'n scurvy-pocked
chomped 'n chewed
me black 'n blue
wit' carnassial chompers as of croc

Be curs'd, yer nit  
me ample bits
equated ter yer own be nowt 
yerz be carnivorous  
scaly 'n scabrous
yer plaque be axed ter beef up grout

Uncomely wench 
yer skunky stench
blunted me hook 'n scorched me beard
me peepers stung
me hornpipe hung
shorn ter th' bone 'n shrivelled 'n seared

Comely 'n curvy
riddled wit' scurvy
th' cap'n's whore-maid tooken yer whole
yer rat o' th' sea
holed and *****
yer fired yer cannon in a rottin' port'ole


Blow me down, lover!!  I love it when we talk dirty.

(Hahahaha.  I see the Soup powers-that-be deleted my word.  I swear it's not used as a swearword.  The word rhymes with "hussy".   lol)


Copyright © delysia hendricks | Year Posted 2013


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September Day


September meets with warm embrace,
 quickening the harvest pace,
though looming autumn can't efface 
 what's left of summer's arid grace.

The linen hanging on the line 
 dances with the gust and shine,
while maypops heavy on the vine, 
 with honeysuckle, twist and twine.

The cool grass tickles naked feet 
 while weaned lambs in the distance bleat,
and find some shelter from the heat 
 'neath leafy canopy retreat.

The gentle wind so jaunt'ly plays 
 and tousles copper hair ablaze
like furious dancing autumn rays 
 from Mabon's fiery upraise.

Through rustling leaves the sunbeams glint,
 I catch the balm of sage and mint,
and every herb and floral scent
 blown to me by the wind's dissent.

Breathing deep olfactory prose
 until the old red rooster crows
waking me from my repose
 and from beneath the tree, I rose.

When as I rose, a red leaf fell, 
 wisping down its last farewell;
a changing season to foretell;
 the coming bounty doth compel.

Cicadas loudly buzz along 
 and sing their end of summer song,
o'er by the thorny brambles throng;
 unto the prairie they belong.

By and by, I turned my mind 
 back to the farm and daily grind,
collecting eggs where I can find; 
 inside the henhouse, else behind.

The hens put up a bitter fuss 
 with feathers flying from the truss, 
so I let out an angry cuss. 
 Still, they obliged; allowed me thus.

Upon it all, I took my leave, 
 finished with my blast and thieve
much to the angry birds' aggrieve; 
 giving them a day's reprieve.

Outside the coop, behind the fence, 
 my greedy boar approached me whence,
grunting for his recompense, 
 and so two eggs I offered thence.

Then on, as careful as I might 
 into the farmhouse kitchen white,
delivered up the shelled delight 
 to feed the morrow's appetite.

Upon the ending of this chore, 
 I happened back outside once more,
to watch the day fade into lore, 
 and Luna make her grand encore.

-----------------------------------------------



Copyright © Thvia Shetley | Year Posted 2017


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Crimson Rose

Crimson Rose 

Against all odds, your destiny, 
To live and grow, your history...
You grew and bloomed with all your might 
With drops of rain and harsh sunlight 
Through crack in earth you came to be. 

Passed down from Greek mythology; 
Adonis born from Myrrha's tree 
In wild boars wounds from Ares fight 
Against all odds. 

Adonis' blood that flowed freely        
Turned into roses magic'ly.        
This sad tale of Adonis' plight  
Engaged in death, now retains light      
As you share love in purity      
Against all odds. 

8-2-18

2.

*In Greek mythology, roses originated from Adonis, deity of plants and rebirth. Adonis was born from a deceptive union between King Theias and his daughter Myrrha. When King Theias realized that his daughter had tricked him, he chased her with his sword. To protect Myrrha, Aphrodite transformed her into a tree.

King Theias shot the tree with an arrow, splitting it in half. It was from this tree that Adonis was born. Aphrodite took to Adonis and raised him like a son. As Adonis grew, he became an avid hunter. One day while he was hunting, Adonis came across Ares, one of Aphrodite’s past lovers, who was disguised as a wild boar. Ares attacked Adonis and when Aphrodite heard his screams, she ran into the forest and found him dying. The blood that ran from his wounds hit the ground and turned into roses.

In another version of the tale, red roses originated when Aphrodite was running to Adonis’ side, cut her feet on the thorns of the flowers, and stained them red.





Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2018


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Turn, Turn, Turn

Spring takes its bow early in Florida’s climate Winds expire, February debuts in quiet Dazzling lavender blooms on cherry trees wake first Sweet aroma o’er the verdant landscape’s dispersed Summer lures eager tourists to beaches in May Dipping their toes, they feel the ocean’s salty spray Torrid heat ushers hurricane season in June Cautious homeowners await the year’s first typhoon But for late November, Fall seems nonexistent Taking to nature trails, hikers’ hours are now spent Wild boar and turkeys identified by their musk Gopher tortoises chill in shells, deer await dusk Locals celebrate yuletide holidays with joy Brevity of winter - nature’s cruelest ploy
*Written August 22, 2014


Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2014


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Seren

Seren


Ah but what a radiant lass
Blonde and soft and born with class
Nightingale and nursing the unborn
Her heart is wrapped around all the forlorn

Loving animals
As only a Star knows
Her smile is soft and always glows
Cuddles and cwtch by the river that flows

Ah but one you see… says she’s crass
Now who says that to a beautiful lass?
Little man with ego bruised
Shall we buy you manners or remove your shoes?

Some in this world are sad and mean
They toss out bitterness, they so keen
The reaper one day shall even the score
Stars shall shine, as we slaughter the boar

Angels and Stars way up high
Their beauty we admire up in the sky


Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016


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Insults

Glowing, half transparent
underneath the pot, burnt,
yes I'm scorched but not sweating,
because I'm furious, so hurt!

Horrid, nagging insults
though they break before my skin,
salt unto the open wound
fire on oil's brim.

My tongue is dull as a dagger,
my bones rot like pure gold,
only like the fire,
I'm not at all bold.

I'm as weak as a boulder,
I'm as kind as an angry beast;
generous as I rip and tear
bones and sinful meat!

Oh, weak am I? and sissy?
brainless? or no wit?
a syllable of another word,
my teeth will loose grit!

Thoughtless and unworthy?
boiling in a pit?
One more word I'll eat you up,
slash you into bits!

Glowering near translucent,
underneath the pot, burnt,
and the pot is a a-brimmin'
'cuz man, I am so hurt.

Worthless noogy insult,
'though they shatter upon my bones
spice upon a wet fresh cut
fire melting gold...

I'm nearsighted like an eagle,
I can only fight a boar,
one insult I'll show them
see if they'd ask for more. 


Copyright © Jamie Girl | Year Posted 2014


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The Animal Atheists

There's no such thing as a Hindu horse, nor a Catholic cat
There's no such thing as a Protestant parrot, you can always be sure of that

There's no such thing as a Rasta rabbit, nor a Mormon mouse
There's no such thing as a sheep thats a Sikh, on that you can bet your house

These creatures have no religion at all, no sectarian divide
Their only ''rules'' are created by nature; and nature will provide

If only the ''clever'' human race had no superstitions
There'd be no more wars at all, no more senseless missions

For religion is based on superstition, filled with legend and myth
Telling you how to live your life and whom you should walk with

Back to that nesting bird in the tree, or even that wild boar
Have you ever heard of an animal that created a world war ?


Copyright © David Lowe | Year Posted 2011


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Rotten To The Core

9/15/16


Across the lands and shores

Plants and spores

So much life in different shapes and forms

Many storms cold or warm



Always been an omnivore

So I eat vegetables like corn

And meats like albacore and boar

I don't care about the odds on the board

It's about so much more

And not just the reward

I'll continue to row without an oar

Near and far from the seafloor

As well as any trees such as sycamore

One up the highest score

And maintain a good rapport

I've always had an interest in lore

Minerals and ores

I'm not rich or technically poor

Worse than any apple, some people rotten to the core

Such foolish things people support

And over such petty stuff people go to war

Still there are areas on this Earth that have yet to be explored 
And possible fossils of new dinosaurs 

Looking up at the full moon shining beyond so many other orbs 


By: Dalton Ogletree




Copyright © Dalton Ogletree | Year Posted 2017


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Estranged Angel

She was an estranged angel 
On the backbone of a boar 
She never put her hair up 
Was a missile without a war 
She broke a wild stallion 
With the motion of her hips 
She stifled a chameleon 
With the color of her lips 
She drowned a hundred hearts 
With the ocean in her eyes 
She never stayed for dinner 
Had a trick bag full of lies 
She's the chairman of your love 
It's the least you stand to lose 
Reinvested into futures 
The kind you'd never care to chose 
She shone just like a savior 
To a crowd of men like me 
In the dark and dreary alley 
She convinced us we'd be free 
She locked our souls together 
With chain of solid gold 
To wander through the streets 
Starving, in love, and cold 
On rainy nights she'd tell me 
Of the millions she would make 
We pounded solid granite 
Until it'd crack, until it'd break 
She delivered forty hammers 
On a bull, without a sound 
She had hundreds of 'em stowed 
Somewhere buried in the ground 
We bore our chains and sang it loud 
We wrote a thousand songs 
God save your children's virgin eyes 
From seeing such a throng 
She promised me the world inside 
A thimble she'd unhide 
Upon completion of a house 
Built on the black hillside 
She promised me so many things 
I believe I did lose track 
But if I could somehow free these boys 
they'd sure be headed back 
To living simple there in town 
No vixen to demand 
Just a table for to drink at 
And to play a couple hands 
But the hand that feeds the bread 
Now riddled so with grubs 
Would never be allowing that 
A world with beds and tubs 
Her power is a mighty thing 
That crushes bone and brow 
It brings one to believe it right 
To stumble, kneel, and bow 
We're just too worn and sore 
To ever execute our coup 
Best rest until the morning comes 
There's plenty of work to do


Copyright © Andy Ellsworth | Year Posted 2013


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Haggis and Drinks Mi Luve (Mythology)

Let’s hve haggis and drinks mi luve
Find de bes ina de ole land 
Lay yu head on mi chest mi luve
Whilst wi dance musik wid de band

Dance wid de band in de Highlands
Backyard jig good fer de ole soul
Tickle mi nose with yu gold locks
Tigether wi bade ead to toe’s sole

Call Fionn mi Luve with his jug
Nice poems he read at de gate
Summon the Clooties with a mug
Aye, they will cum and bles dis date

We’ll sail de river on Loch Ness
Kelpies will protect our flanks
Goddess Scotia says we bless
Oh mi chamin' sweet Sidhe, tanks

Aye! Mi sweet luve; Boobrie will fly
He will fetch up the Salmon Ring
And a knot cross de land we tye
Red Caps our guard til cum de spring

Then wid haggis and drinks mi luve
Goddesses'pipes blow dem great songs
In the grey mist we skip and dance
Then like Boobrie we fly with doves

Scottish Mythical Legends:

1. Fionn is a Scottish magician, warrior and poet
2. Clootie is a Scottish name for the devil.  The name originated from the word cloot, which  
    mean a division in the cleft hoof of an animal.
3. Kelpie is a Scottish water devil who lurks in lakes and rivers and drowns its victims.
4. Scotia is a goddess normally portrayed as an old hag with the tusks of a wild boar
5. Sidhe (Shee) is the Gaelic name for fairies in the Highlands of Scotland and also Ireland. 
6. Boodrie is a wonderful water-bird from the Highlands.  It haunts and protects the lakes  
    and wells.
7. Red Cap is a sort of short, stocky old guy with long gray hair and claws instead of hands 
    and fingers. He lives on the Scottish border and guard the ancient ruins of castles






Copyright © Joseph Spence Sr | Year Posted 2010


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Barred Camp

Young Barred Jeff the hair once heired and was bard
from Barred Bare Camp cause when bear he was hard.
Neigh,said he in the bairn wear the auld stud nayed,
Owe, eye oh fare Merry her fair must bee paid.

Her fair's dew her an' eye'll faint with me stave.
The auld counselor feinted *** Jeff misbehaved.
My stave is like ewe just ask Merry's made
oar ask the yew in the dew; she'll bleat what eye said.

Barred Jeff maid a song witch told of his whiles
it went on two long wile marry Merry beguiled.
Know boatman with or, oar blacksmith can boar
wench better, he said, of this eye am sure.

Perhaps, a black stallion, perhaps a bold bore
butt, barred Jeff beared was the won who scored.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Young Bard Jeff the heir once erred and was barred
from Bard Bear Camp cause when bare he was hard.
Nay said he in the barn where the old stud neighed,
Oh, I owe fair Mary her fare must be paid.

Her fare's due her an' I'll feint with me stave
the old counselor fainted as Jeff misbehaved.
My stave is like yew, just ask Mary's maid 
or ask the ewe in the dew it'll bleat what I said.

Bard Jeff made a song which told of his wiles
it went on too long while merry Mary beguiled.
No boatmen with oar, or blacksmith can bore
wench better, he said, of this I'm quite sure. 

Perhaps, a black stallion, perhaps a bold boar, 
but, Bard Jeff bared was the one who scored.


Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2015


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Homonym Spring

Laying inn the grass watching the clouds float buy, my mined wanders aweigh as eye smell that apple pi. 

I've patiently waited four spring and now that's it's hear awl eye want two dew is sit outside and drink a bier.

I've waited four warmer whether and too bee outdoors, butt today I'm stuck inside and that's such a boar.

Spring inn Pennsylvania isn't as it seams, it goes from wareing shorts on a Monday then down to zero degrees. 

Lucky Mi!


04/27/2015


Copyright © Jillian Sabecky | Year Posted 2015


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Divine Comedy translation Canto XIII Hell part 2

(Continues after part 1)

Stopped to talk, and then “Since his voice now dries”,
Told poet to me, “your time don’t lose, be fast;
But speak, and ask him, if like that more arise”.

And I to him: “Let you again questions cast
About what you imagine for me are good;
‘Cause I can’t, by pity being harassed”.

Thus he started: “If this man to do should
Freely what you asked him acting with pray,
Soul imprisoned, please yet again you could

Tell us how souls are bonded in such way
Within these knots; and tell us, if you can,
If any of those  can ever go away”.

Then strongly blew the trunk, and such a fan
Became in short a voice which sudden made:
“In brief an answer out of here will span.

When the wild spirit is finally conveyed
Out of body from which itself  could rip,
Minos sends it to the seventh down grade.

It falls in the wood, and for choice no tip;
But only where the randomness throws it,
There sprouting as a grain of spelt ends trip.

It grows as bush and as wild tree to fit;
And Harpies, wildly eating then its leaves,
Cause real pain, and also to pain new slit.

As others each one its spoils back achieves,
But then no one with those  again might dress
Because of their own life they had been thieves.

Here we shall drag back, and in distress
Of  this wood will be hanged our bodies then,
Each one to bramble of his shadow mess”.

We were still to the trunk attentive men,
Thinking from him we had to hear words more,
When we were surprised by a noise again,

Similar to the one which makes the boar
Approaching when is hunted in the wood,
And barking dogs, and twigs are rustling fore.

And now two guys who on the left coast stood
Naked and scratched, were so much escaping fast,
That in the wood all branches break they could.

The one further: “Now come, come, death to blast!”
And the other, who too late looked to be,
Shouted: “Lano, not were so unsurpassed

Your legs at Toppo’s  rides indeed to see!”
And then perhaps because his force he lost,
His body joined to a shrub no more free.

To follow them the wood was crowded crossed
By black *****es, running and so greedy went
As were greyhounds both unchained and tossed.

In the one who stopped then their teeth indent,
And tearing him with wildness piece by piece;
Carry away dismembered with torment.

And my guide kept my hand with act so nice,
And brought me close to the  shrub which cried
For the bloody ruptures in vain to cease.

“O Jacopo”, told, from Santandrea tied,
How helped you to use me to you as screen?
How is my fault with your bad life implied?”

When my master was over him to  lean,
Told “who were you, that were just wounded so
That blow painful words in a gory scene?” 

And to us: “O souls who came here to know
And see the shameful agony of  here
Where my branches were broken and thrown low,

Gather them around the sad bush quite near.
I was from city where  the Baptist came
Replacing the first lord; and he to veer

Always with his arts will then hurt and blame;
And if it were not true that Arno site
Has no sign of him at all and no fame,

Those citizens who it refounded quite
Over the ashes which Attila had left,
Would have worked for nothing then despite.

I made gibbet of  my house  life's bereft”



Copyright © Mario DE PAZ | Year Posted 2014


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Canto XXII Hell translation part 1

Horsemen moving camp I already saw ,
And storming to show themselves then to start,
And too sometimes for escape  withdraw;

Fast runners I saw in your land depart,
Oh Aretines, and gatherers to go,
Tournaments fight and also the joust art;

Sometimes with bells, sometimes with trumpets blow,
With drums and with of castles signal sounds,
And with things of our land or stranger though; 

Not yet with such unlike music around
Horsemen I saw or walkers then to move,
Nor ship to signals from a star or ground.  

We were going with ten devils in groove.
Ouch how fierce companions! But in church
You have saints, and in tavern gluttons you’ve.

My attention to mud was set to search,
Of the bedlam to see any content
And of the people there in pain and lurch.

Like dolphins, when want to express intent
To seamen bending of their back the bow
How save their boat giving help consent,

Sometimes, in order to ease the pain, so
Sinners were trying to emerge their back
And cloaked then as an heartbeat rapid though.

And as at border of a ditch for snack
Remain the frogs with their mouth quite well out,
Hiding feet and corps to any attack,

So there remained the sinners all throughout;
But when Barbariccia came too close,
Then became submerged again with no doubt.

I saw, and still now my heart horror knows,
One was to expect out, as happens when
A frog out remains and other down bows;

And Graffiacan, who was  closer then,
Grappled his hardly pitch entangled hair 
And lifted him, like an otter again.   

I already knew all the names of their,
So I recognized when they could out show,
And I well herd then after they called were.

“Oh Rubicante, you should catch him so
With your claws, that now you him skin and flay!”,
Were screaming then all those cursed aglow.

And I: “My master, act, in case you may,
To know the full name of the wretched man
Fallen in hands of his foes with dismay”.

My duke went close to him on side a span;
Asked him which was his land, and answered he:
“I the Navarra kingdom was began.

My mother as a lord servant placed me,
After she with a villain me birth gave,
Who destroyed himself and too his things fee.

Then I became gyp of  king Tybalt brave;
Here I started barratry to do,
For which in this boiling heat I am slave”.

And Ciriatto, whose mouth  had out through
In every part a fang as in a boar,
Made him to experience how it teared thru.

Of aggressive cats fell the mouse in core;
But Barbariccia with arms  clasped him 
And told: “Stand aside, while I hook his corps”.

And to my master turned then his face grim;
“Ask”, told, “again, if you any more need
To know, first others break any his limb”.

(continue next)


Copyright © Mario DE PAZ | Year Posted 2014


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family values

they try to push me in the door
a good deed done for a boar

new pants and new shirt
just on night what could it hurt

waiting outside for the end
inside seems dead

the only one not dancing
instead homeward i'm glancing

two hundred feet away
with no wards to say

no need for a ride
just over the hurdle of pride

just one night gone by
one more reason to sigh

just a boy how didn't stop for pictures 


Copyright © john tanaskow | Year Posted 2010


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HOME

 HOME. By Ted Bundy

There is a place not far from here where purple maggots are the size of deer, pink frogs are there wearing bowties  and hats, now put your hands together for the rolling skating rats. Green fluorescent tawny owls are snorkelling in the pool,while a wallaby in swimming trunks tries to play it cool. Its also the island where neon zebras are found,they plug into a capsule buried underground, the lions fish for skunks and illuminous crayfish dress up as monks.  Theres a barrel of laughing monkeys and some gigantic leathery snails, cockroaches modelling footie boots,even anorexic whales. 
Spiders in tracksuits riding pushbikes with ease, with a cross-dressing chipmunk flying high on trapeze. Bristly skinned donkeys snowboard on thin ice, and a 5 headed emu shoots craps and rolls dice. Glance over yonder at the transparent camels, their glass humps are crawling with mice, stare at the turtles dressed to the nines, and here comes a beard complete with head lice. Theres some inbred iguanas,and some lukewarm limey lugworms,  snorting clear cider through straws, gorillas dress as men and theres a psychotic hen, taping rusty razors to her claws. Over at the gym, theres  miss matched mastiffs, squashing each other underfoot, and an armadillo in a pin striped suit is trying to pick up a shot-putt. Hidden amongst the undergrowth you might be lucky enough to see, our south american weasel sloth sucking leather splinters from a tree, and theres no need to stare in awe if you see a tartan wild boar,trying to saw his assistant in half, his illusion tricks are a mystifying mix,  guillotine, two nuns and  a bloody  laugh. Up here on the right is our new Bull arena, the atmospheres heavy, ive never heard it meaner, in runs the first one already *****scared,beaten and blind, running in circles and ****ed out of his mind, the poisoned steely spikes creating pus filled blistered sores, the crowd ****ing love it killing Spanish matadors. A family of minks are enjoying the show, sipping their juice and gin, i especially admire their matching attire, its top of the range human skin. This is a change from the norm, a better way of life, a lot more colour,  and a lot less bleeding strife. Its a paradise for sure, and packed with fun and glee, where a hip hop alley cat, a sabre toothed fruit bat, and a clarinet playing koala, will serve you cake and tea. Yes, this is the place where pink Buffalo roam, Heaven on Earth for them, they call it Home.


Copyright © Ted Bundy | Year Posted 2012


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Made me smile - Comment Contest

A lovely comment I received
I treated it as fun
Surmised I was a girl from the east
With attributes per sun

Thought I might have been
delicate and womanly
As though I am not, for sure
I wonder if she thinks that I'm
A great big boring Boar

I know when she reads these lines
She will laugh and be pleased
That her comments made such an impression
That I could write these words with ease

So now I leave with my thoughts untold
To write more poetry, for you to behold.
Shall I write with pizzazz with a flare
Or just be boring me like my usual fare


For Jack's comment contest.


Copyright © Seren Roberts | Year Posted 2014


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Memories Journey

I’m following the country road I learned to drive on 
the old green ford truck, black rusty stick shift, 
hand carved wooden blocks on my feet.
I glimpse a cane pole pulling a trophy from a small pond, 
The low branches of a weeping willows 
sweeping the ground like a broom,
laughter, innocent, young, still free, I look toward the sound, 
sliding down a red, rusty, tin roof on a worn old barn
into a pile of fresh turned hay!

Through the mist I can see her 
Swaying as she walks along the tree line
Humming a song she learnt as a babe 
black berry stained face and a bucket half empty.

A scream guided me to a new day 
she’s running up a Mulberry tree - stick in hand
a black and white Hampshire boar is displeased.
A grinding noise coming from where the old house lay 
a devious smile as her finger lifted the ice cream freezer seal.
The rooster with red, green and gold starting his morning crow
taking the eggs as she kicked him avoiding his spurs.
She’s older now - on a white and tan spotted horse called Sparky
with giant hooves for kicking when the spring breaks.
Mocking her hero, bib overalls, an engineers hat, black rubber boots 
shoveling quickly as the grain poured into the bed of the big red truck.

A crushed velvet chair with a sunken place on the arm where 
she sat year after year and her ever growing weight.
It’s where she learned to sew - and sow she did imaginary things.
Mmmm,  pies and cakes, wiping the flour off her nose!
Such hugs and happiness and youthful smiles
full of innocence and full of faith.

Driving across the brown and red rocks of the clear water creek
running, jumping in the cool deep welcoming pool.
Falling in the feather bed letting her body sink down and down 
into the sun dried cloud of white fluffy comfort.
The wheels just keep on turning and turning, 
within the moment of this memories journey.


Copyright © Karen van Wyk | Year Posted 2012


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My Woodland Of Togetherness

I love this woodland of togetherness, where the branches reach out, entwine 
pull and lull me in. Where the sunlight bisects the canopy, falling in shards of 
love, kissing each leaf in its effortless fall. The absorbent floor soaks of moss, 
lichen and fern in a peace far from the chainsaw of reality. Indications of life 
surround  in a cloak of serenity, the bark of deer, the scampering of 
cottontails, the gruff grunting of wild boar not always seen but their presence 
felt in eerie shadows. I walk the glitters and glistens of cobweb lace, take the 
quiet in eager gulps awash in the grace of growth. The watching eye of wise Owl 
looks as if to say you lucky bastard, blinks and could not give a hoot. I parade 
in happiness and content dismissal of the inane world outside natures blanket, 
for I have seen the effects of of the two legged beast with his devouring heart, 
full of greed and broken promises. No this is the pace I wish to bear, carry for 
the rest of my natural days, where the seeds are scattered idyllic by a soft and 
gentle hand. I will tread silently this woodland created by time and tranquillity 
and try to avoid the guilt of disturbance.


Copyright © Daniel Cheeseman | Year Posted 2010


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What a boar - limerick contest

There was a man with a shovel
Whose house was a relative hovel
Digs a hole in the floor
Think his dad was a boar
Cos he cant stop sniffing for truffle



Penned 17 August 2013


Copyright © Seren Roberts | Year Posted 2013


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Carpe Diem

on tree limbs jutting out over rivers sleepy gators bask, absorbing summer’s heat in fall, the sluggish reptiles do the same temperatures exceed 100 in the Sunshine State till November brings a brief reprieve water lilies, oleanders, daisies boast vibrant blooms until the first freeze perhaps December maybe January some years not at all as snowbirds fill beaches in fall locals return from summer homes up north when warm colors paint leaves Florida’s dogwoods and Bradford Pear trees are decked in crimson Water Oaks sport amber coats wild boar and deer enjoy the reprieve romping through subtropical forests in the welcome chill of autumn as hikers take to nature trails “Indian Summer” some call it when refreshing breezes ruffle foliage with only several weeks of autumn we’re blessed Carpe diem, seize these moments(/center> *Written August 31, 2014


Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2014


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Adventures of Robin Hood and his Merry Men

Adventures of Robin Hood and his Merry Men.

               No1.

 Robin’s Thick Member

We wuz out huntin that day
Ah remembers as plain as can be
When a ansome buck came us way
Fust to shoot was me mate Unlucky

Now that buck he just looked in us faces
With an air of his royal decree
Displayin his arrogunt graces
At the arra there stuck in the tree

Ah says, “Robin, he won’t be best pleased
At missin his dinner agen
Your damn good at arrain trees 
An pissin off his merry men”

If we goes back to camp with no meal
That maid, she will giv us sum stick
She’ll shove us sum manky old veal
An the merry men will all be sick”

Then Unlucky he says that he saw
Over there be-ind the rockery
A big ol boy of a boar
But his arra, yes, it foun a tree

Stood Marion with expectation
The night would be one great party
But after me grand explanation
We was whipped a foot up from the knee

Then Robin  “Unlucky”, he says
“You’s a poor shot as all us can see
If that buck agen inter view strays
Just bloomin well aims fer the tree.

Coz averages seem to dictate
You could bag that buck if you tried
If only you’d concentrate
An wern’t so bloody cross eyed”

So Unlucky he thinks to his sen
I’ll show them a thing or two
That big head an his stinky men
Will be dinin on best red deer stew

Once more he foun his sen afore
That deer who was showin no fear
He watched as his arra did soar
Past that grinnin bucks twitchin left ear

But wait, that buck he was down
His hooves in the air on his back
The arra that just missed his crown
Had given him sheer heart attack

He was cheered when he got back to camp
An the night became one great party
With a bow he was proclaimed a champ
An no longer known as Unlucky.







Copyright © Richard D Seal | Year Posted 2016


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My Little Village

How calm, how cool aah!
In the queue of betel jackfruit, mango garden
Happiness run with family
Paddy area and the mustard field.
Baisagu arrived in our village
Beautiful dance of joy, welcome
Village to replay around parties
Kham jotha thorkha playing.
Aah! so glad to live in this
Parties to the action
Great brother to help
Birds keeps rearing cattle, pigs.
Does harvest crops in the ground
Golden and green coloured design on clothes made in weaving,
Waterfall in the lake while fishing jekhai
Deer and wild boar hunt.
Waterfall behind family run
Oh! how beautiful
With beautiful gardens
Made in the field of veterinary.
World of wonder in nature
Full of joy and pain, in my village
Fight to live every moment!
How calm, how cool.


Copyright © Ronjoy Brahma | Year Posted 2016


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The Golden Eagle

With a golden nape, that area on the neck’s rear,  
And a silent voice, excluding some chirps and stonks, 
Speaking only to young, or between two or some in flight, 
The golden eagle exudes those qualities that make humans right. 

Flying maybe seventy-seven miles from their nest, 
With wings up-turned in a V-shape for dynamics,
Which make a plane with the tail, aerodynamically set,  
At a speed of one twenty mph without acoustics. 

Open areas of nurturing native vegetation, 
Make a home and life for development and tangle, 
And mountainous rock regions find them hunting, 
Bidding for rock pigeons and raven to mangle. 

They devour creatures of the hair family fair and square,
And ground squirrels, grouse and pheasant they tare, 
They’re not scared of deer, lamb, pigs or wild boar, 
And sheep to them are a massively wide open door.

They have a dark brown body with feathers replaced annually,
Falconry is rife, and they get prestige from indigenous America, 
Mentioned in the Torah, and the Old and New Testament fair,
Tolkien used it in an illustration to symbolise Bilbo Baggins air.


Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2015


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The Boar of Dumm - a Jabberwocky parody

'Twas later in the afternoon

When the work of the day was done:

Many sat waiting for the moon,

Idly twiddling their thumbs.



'Beware the Boar of Dumm, my son!

The eyes that dull, the yawns that tire,

Beware the slowing steps, do run

Or to great things, you'll not aspire.'



He took his hardy tome in hand:

His father's words he did then heed --

So climbed he up into a tree,

There he began to read.



And there the hours sped quickly past

'Till the last light of day did fade

And when he closed his book at last

A discovery was made!



The Boar of Dumm! Beneath the tree!

Unable to reach him, it fell

Onto its side, and there it died,

And thus lifted the spell.



'And hast thou beat the Boar of Dumm?

Oh tell me, for it must be true!

For the ones it takes are many,

Those who defeat it, few.'



'Twas later in the afternoon

When the work of the day was done:

The shouts of joy did ring out soon,

For o'er the Boar he had won.


Copyright © Amice Writer | Year Posted 2015