Best Buffalos Poems
The wild belongs to the wild
The world belongs to the world
I stay safe and stay away
Because nature was designed that way
You can’t escape the reason why
All carnivores are so spry
An unleashed paw in your flesh
Is not worth a stroll on a lion's turf
A roar of a lion is not a buzzing house fly
It’s an unwelcome politeness, take flight
If feasting on buffalos is how they dine
Then your blood can only be dessert red wine
Don’t let your flesh invite the canines
Don’t get de-boned just for facebook likes
Lions never takes a stroll in our streets
Why should I trespass on theirs, with camera flicks?
My love for lions is a relationship from a distance
We don’t trust each other but I keep the romance
No earthquake, no thunder, no volcanic eruption
Or even there was no any of natural calamities,
A sudden loud sound broke out all through the bush
With whizzing, shuddering, cracking, tearing, echoing,
Fear, horror, dark, terror, misery and ill spirits spread
Committing destruction, death in a horrible situation,
Dust, dirt, smoke coiled over the whole atmosphere
The harmless animals are quite perplexed, helpless
They began crying, shouting, running, rushing, fainting
Seeing reddish spots and innumerable torn bodies,
They blamed one another for committing the crime,
Brawling, harming, plotting hardened in them
A long conflict complicated and awful tangled,
Loosing the worms of crime, injustice and corruption,
The virtues sunk and the vices rose everywhere
Envious state of barbarism, terrorism inflicted on them
The poor animals lost peace and principles they had
Centuries curse engulfed all what was out of thought,
Ferocious animals are in the neighbouring big forest
They always wait for chances on the helpless ones,
They do not care for hesitating in violating terms
Committing all sorts of hyenas and monstrous harms,
They know how and when to cook poisonous broth
And how to throw an unseen net to catch the rest,
Once some cats were quarrelling nearby the bush
Some wild dogs of the big forest made an instant rush,
For repeated barking mewing was beyond of hearing
Foxes and monkeys also joined within a quick haste
Crows, kites and vultures started crowing for the feast
What more, rats and mice left the bush being frightened
Dreadful tumult, commotion, collision, conflict took place
At the arrival of buffalos, deer, bears, wolfs and hyenas,
But with the unexpected appearance of lions and tigers
All the surroundings became instant silent and isolated
All went away murmuring without a single looking back,
The victorious were excited having got all easy victory
But they found troubles to enjoy the whole empire lonely
So there were roaring, shouting, blustering, threatening
Of occupying empire, power, lordship and over lordship
‘Might is right’ established in the ruleless bestial state.
Long before the white man came
to the Black Hills of South Dokota,
in a teepee made of buffalo skin
lived a young Sioux warrior called Akecheta;
he hunted with a hawk that spotted the slowest
horse, his friends admired him for his courage.
He rode through prairies for hours,
never taking taking a nap and rest
under the shade of a Prickly Pear Cactus!
He watched rainbows stretching
over a horizon dazzling with sun
and invoked the Great Spirit before
heading home through prairies;
he lived in the shadow of mountains
where Howthorne trees showed
their small red berries in the beezy
and pleasant days of early autumn!
He found a hawk who had injuried
wings and showed him his kindness;
hunter and predator became friends,
their boldness could scare a bear.
On his hunting days Akecheta carried
a red-tailed hawk on his shoulder
for guidance, hoping to find a fawn
to take home to feed his family!
Ackecheta hunted for rabbits and deer,
their meats were so tasty and tender;
there's was no scarcity of food:
either be buffalos, nuts or berries.
America was already blessed by God
before Europeans came to conquer;
was the God of the Sioux kinder than
that of the adventurous pioneers?
Ackecheta never saw a beautiful ocean
with shrieking seagulls flying overhead...
only mountains that he called canyons.
He loved the majestic Roughlock Falls,
but he cried when he saw the newcomers
cut down all the tallest Quaker aspens:
had he tried to stop them with angry
screams, he would have been killed!
Written on 6/12/2017
Demitrios the golden Spartan captain sets sail for Italy
against the western wind; he will certainly mourn Piraeus,
and with sorrow-striken eyes, he'll invoke Poseidon.
Then he'll depart carrying the long hunting horn.
The small vessel will hold out and he won't fear waves,
but he laughs at Ares--who despises all kinds of irony.
Occasional gusts soothe the skin on his noble face,
unwrinkled and unrugged. Spring water should
quench his dry tongue; it's too warm and tasteless.
Stored in a huge amphora which depicts faces
of gods and warriors engaged in warfare,
it has the same warmth of the sweat that drips
from his hot forehead that has turned red.
Ahead, wisps of fog arise--an imagery whale.
Beyond there are perils and certain delights;
thoughts of danger will perturb him, thoughts
of discovery will enthrall him. He will be experiencing
them on his voyage--what he desires is smooth sailing.
He has heard of sirens and cyclops,
of fertile valleys and fields of yellow wheat;
of buffalos that roam, of goats and sheep that bleat.
How amazed he will be to find rocks
to build the New City*on that pristine shore--
he will declare his Queen sitting in the marble throne!
Demitrios the golden Spartan captain sets sail for Italy
to escape Achille's curse; he refuses to hide in the wooden horse,
he will never return to Greece. Athens and Sparta will not fight
with swords and arrows; their grand plan is to win war by deceit.
Cleverness will defeat the Trojans. Only Helena foresees the worse;
they don't heed her words--Troy will fall to the enemy.
* The New City: Neapolis ( Naples ).
Your chase!
Reminiscing on the oceans I had to dry up
and the volcanos I had to ice up
just to capture the epicenter of your heart
well protected by strong canines
of your carnivorous standards.
Hanging with the clouds of the highest heights
and combating with the dragons
of the Amazon Forest
was worth all the efforts.
Your Love!
shines in vitality
attracting even the goddess of sexuality
as it preserves the indwelling desires of two hearts.
We stayed isolated in the entire world
at midnight, siting on the mountain top
the moon directly above us
showcasing our shadows
melted together with no space in between.
The stars, singing hymns of love
while the trees danced to the romantic melody.
Just the two of us
and the entire universe
bridged by space full of your praise as I behold my Queen.
Whose beauty compresses the wealth of Europe
and gentleness makes
the Dove and the River team up in envy.
Your absence!
Life endeavours have fixed
putting us in an equilibrium of distance
as I perish in a state; psychiatry has no definition.
In the midst of Adult Buffalos
you leave an unprotected Cub.
You aren't gone, just far away
yet I feel like a member of a loser's club
as love has converted me to a scrub.
Thinking I'd be as worse as
a depression endemic atmophere
with loneliness and plutonic cold its major contents,
unfortunately, my heart is its suburb
completely eaten up and infected.
What can make me lay for days
in the bathub;
rejecting everything beautiful and lovely,
and the ointment of darkness I rub?
To all these my Love!
Your absence is the nub.
But I need to stay strong
as I await the purification of your presence once again.
Yesterday another adorable child of three died
form contamination...how awful was his death!
The miles-long grassland roams with buffalos;
from the outside, they look healthy and strong!
Buffalos and cows still graze in the poisoned land filled
with barrels of toxic waste from the industrial North;
these criminals bury barrels ten feet underground...
they should be imprisoned for as long as they live!
Let them suffer: they'll see the gliding ghosts
of all the beautiful children who have died;
these illegal dumpings have been going on years;
the one who shed light on it was an ex-convict.
Today his loud cry for justice is unheard by all;
feel the anger, the remorse for his wrongdoing!
Can such an abused land exist in an environment
that can't grow healthy fruits and vegetables?
No, it bears bad crops and skeletal, leafless trees...
specters of future plagues and cancerous diseases;
weeping mothers hold those little angels as they slip
into their eternal sleep...no cry is louder than theirs!
As we wait for Cruzzatte to anchor the boats
and bring along the men with pull sleds for the carcasses
a teenage Indian boy on a brown pony painted with winged eyes
prances in and out of our slain buffalos, quiver and bow upon his back
the settling haze of violence ebbing around his undisturbed gallop
as if to see and sanction what we've done, completely unfrightened by us
his eyes fixed on me with a grin that says he knows the pleasure of the kill,
he be so errie in his handsome joy of this death scene,
through native sign language the poetry of hands in dance reveals the heart of a tribe,
Drouillard and I determine that his name is Young Wise
and is a member of the Yankton Sioux
I agree to let Drouillard return with Young Wise to the Yankton site
of 60 lodges 15 miles away, he will be a potential hostage
but he has accepted the risk like a family man
and if they harm him we will burn them,
their leadership will recognize the importance of our favor
and arrive at the Corp's camp with chieftains, curiosity and Drouillard by dusk I'm sure,
our respective nations must learn the path to mutual prosperity,
J.A.B.
Boundless pastures, velvety green,
Between the forests there;
Sheep and shepherds, gujjars and buffalos,
Present a heaven’s scene:
Scarcely seen—in fog.
Sad soul! How benevolent is life there
And how hard in real.
Drover, ride your white horse...ride it with grit
on the sun-scorched prairies
of the Mississippi Valley:
where no tree is found in a shady spot,
but plenty of wild daisies
and pink roses distract you constantly!
Winter came with snow and haze,
and the buffalos couldn't graze;
now, in the open prairie, they do
and aren't startled by your gallops or
fear being chased and hunted by two
or three lasso-throwing cowboys for
their gorgeous hides to make a fortune...
hear them whistling a Kenny Roger's tune!
Drover, ride your white horse...ride it with grit
through the rich farmlands burning,
until you'll get hungry, thirsty and tired;
sit down by the Mississipi River and unwind,
observe the clearest water flowing
as Mark Twin did while he was writing!
Drover, ride the white horse, ride it with grit...
while thinking how far is your home,
how lonely is your wife holding Jerome!
Copyright ( c ) 2018 by Andrew Crisci
Poets, do not be discouraged, neither young nor old,
Uncertain verses can pierce stone, or iron,
Just believe those you love you, endure the headwinds,
To think that at the end of the sea there is America and its buffalos,
Just cross rivers with dangerous Indians,
The Amazon, the White Nile, or the great Mississippi, are friends,
Poet, do not be discouraged, do not deviate,
In front of Whitman shining in the diamond sky,
Follow your path, on the great snowy plains,
Follow your path, in the villages of Lower Brittany,
In the hotels of Sichuan, or Manaus,
Warm your heart in Calypso’s arms,
Think of Circe whose beauty poisoned Ulysses
Poet falls in love with the sea, the stars,
Do not be discouraged, Poet, you can be still and quiet like water, or
You can become a torrent in the mountains of Wyoming,
A verse is always an object of the future,
“Drop by drop, water pierces the stone.” (1)
NB (1) From Lucrèce in Montaigne les essais
Ghosts of buffalo hunters
on galloping horses
leap across the plains
against the autumn sky,
dust clouds mingle with
specter shapes,
shrouding the hunter and
the hunted.
Spears soar in deadly flight,
aiming at prey who are
singing their death song
while hearts of men rejoice at
the kill.
When amber sunset meets
shadowed earth hunters
and buffalos turn into nomadic
dust devils which join other spirits
as they sweep across the prairie,
leaving the sacred ground as
seen in the eyes of the all-knowing
aged chief.
Oh turbulence. Must you wait in a dusty corner. Shake round and around. Clearance clarifying chatting chambers. How rather charismatic and charades played by orchestra are neither plucked nor picked. Residue of a salt licking burping plant. Sitting on wheels is no good when standing is necessary for jet propelled motion. Stick insect labelling a fuzzy drink. Very methodical. Govern not a tidal wave of sprinkling glitter dust portions. And slice the cake evenly. Ok then that's good. Smish smash sail ego dome. Mish mash pull pile. Embroidered embryonic emblematic embedded encrusted encyclopedia. That turns in many loops in a diversion dive. Critical cancellation crossing covered conical chamber chasms. Procrastination is neither a powerful PowerPoint presentation nor a planted playful pickle. Giggle not at a googly eyed worm working washing and waving. For it is neither the clan of the cabbage nearby nor is it the whale waitress of the north that climbs to place the beacons of ballooning ballet buffalos. Come tonight then. Sit down. Stay in a rendezvous of a reached restitution resting. And the one eyed loaf of bread will need kneading after kneeling down in a creatively baked sauce. At this time it is very important to follow the advice of eleven elevated radishes, an aloe Vera plant, a ninety metre octave in a cloak, a duster, and the little shiny fish fork. Good. Haha and a bottle of ketchup rising from the work surface. Hahaha escaping juice escaping haha running rioting righteous ringdonuts. Xxxxx denominational z
Outside the sliding glass door were a fairly large herd
of dust buffalo.
Some had old leaves winding all through them, acting
as legs for their transportation needs, hoofs included.
As they could go no further they peered into see what
was going on in there, and perhaps the sliding glass door
might open so they would not have to figure out how to go around.
So while peering inside this human's house a dreadful site met
their eyes - a domestic comrade, a certain dust bunny was running
for his life.
These buffalo watched in captivated horror as this bunny was
yelling and screaming at them to run for their lives...
While he yelled and screamed his mouth seemed to flow far back,
wrapping around his face... for a large red contraption was spot on,
quickly nearing his very furry backside.
As he was making a mad dash he located a large sofa off to his right
and with a last ditch effort he broke off to the right from the ever
gaining suction from something called a Dirt Devil. The lady who was
pushing that very evil contraption yelled out, "Oh no you don't! You come
back here!" But this dust bunny quickly jumped under the large brown
sofa which made the human woman concede the victory to the ever
so sly bunny who avoided the deadly Dust Devil at least for the time being.
The woman said to this bunny now hiding under the sofa, "You might of had
a better end if you would just let me catch you. So you will live another day
until my energy catches up with me. Lucky for you dust bunny I dislike
moving the sofa."
Outside the dust buffalo just sighed and looked at each other, then they
just rolled to their sides and let the breeze blow them away.
S.E. Clark - you all might want to read my poem Dust Bunny first LOL!!!
God Bless!
A run-down barn nestled among low and gentle hills,
it adds natural charm to a breathtaking landscape.
On sunny mornings, it adorns itself with sunrays,
making the screeching ravens flee to a shady spot.
Its paint is peeling off due to an abandoned state,
it once echoed with the constant moos of cattle.
It can almost hear the tractors heading for the harvest,
emitting fumes to disperse the wildflowers' strong aroma.
Mockingbirds are too annoyed to welcome another crisp morning
with their thrilling notes that can make the radiant air so festive.
Cowboys riding on fast horses gave life to these fileds, once tallgrass prairies...
even they have left these lands where buffalos, elks and coyotes freely roamed.
Driving back home, dusk changes the color of fields, clouds, hills and sky...
shadows invade the lonely barn on Greenpoint Road followed by many stars.
The world is made of diversity and in it
We are to find unity!
The world itself is layered
Its living species varying
From starfishes to buffalos, yet,
It gives all of them
Their due depending upon
What their system needs without ever
Thinking that one species needs lesser
Than another one!
Similarly, it differentiates not
Between humans, giving them
Adaptation facilities depending upon
Where they live and how they need
To struggle for their own survival!
So, we, as elevated conscious beings,
Are to learn this lesson
From the world itself
And we are to behave
As it does
As only there where there are
Feelings of brotherhood and acceptance
Shall we be able to move on
And adjust to the growing hostility
Thrust upon the world by the
Keepers of evil shadows!