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Best Fossa Poems | Poetry

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The Best Fossa Poems

Details | Fossa Poem |

Stalker

The humans were gone from this island for twenty million years
Its twenty million years in to the future and those islands are new frontiers 
The mother giant lemur her children rears 
One of lone lemurs nearby cleans his ears

He jumps on large baobab tree
But this baobab is not the largest tree
He will see
There is one right next to it and related but ninety meter tall beauty 

He climbs up and looks at the appearing visage of majestic moon
It will be lemurs’ time to go to sleep pretty soon
The silver blue light of the full moon 
Illuminates the deep lagoon

This is the time when like a shadow from the dark 
Giant relative of fossa looks to make his mark
In his powerful like moving train but very elastic gate he makes an arc
He is relative of mongoose looks like a cat dog cross but does not bark 

Instead he howls like a demon at the night
To fear this animal for any creature would be right
The moon is shinning bright
But even in total darkness fossa has incredible sight

But unlike human age fossa this one is over three meters long not counting the tail
And it looks like it came straight from hell when its teeth it will unveil 
His claws also the prey can impale 
And prowling this primeval looking forest is this sleek and very dangerous male

He sees a lemur in moons light
He stalks him during part of the night
With fear hundred and sixty kilogram lemur’s face turns white
When giant fossa begins to bite

The fight goes from tree tops to the ground
But other predators hear the sound
The giant crock does not waste time to sit around
He wants fossas’ prey that’s sent he smells like a bloodhound 

For a moment fossa is dumfound 
Fighting off another predator by fossa gives lemur time to escape without a sound
The crock tries to grab the fossa but fossa jumps back just to rebound
By the demonic agility of fossa the crock is spellbound 

Fossa grabs the crock and with enormous strength of the jaw she bites through crocks’ head
Just like that the crock falls dead
The ground turns blood red
And primordial predator continues ahead 

Once again he looks to the mysterious moon
Howling to it with melancholic and dreadful tune
He will find another prey soon
Chasing after it with a force of typhoon

Details | Fossa Poem |

Odyssey from Africa 12d

Odyssey from Africa, Chapter 12 (d) The fireflower (cont.)

Dominated by one hilltop 
Round in form, it’s summit hidden
In the whiteness of a cloud base
There they saw their destination 

Now they climbed by steepening gradient
Through a changing vegetation 
To a lighter forest ambience 
As the trees became less crowded 

Soil and rock turned red in colour
At ground level here and there they
Saw the swollen stems and leaves and
Orange flowers of Aloe vera

Saw the twinkling purple calyx
Of the upland Kalanchoe
Stopping now to rest and eat, they
Sat together in a circle 

As their guide explained, these highlands  
Were a place to seek the fireflower
Find the lichen-mottled tree trunks 
With their sprays of slender branches 
 
Bearing high the vivid flame-like 
Blossoms of Delonix regia
So they formed a line of searching
And continued slowly onward 
 
Glimpsing once a red-mouthed fossa 
Crouching in a tree’s high branches 
With its kill, a ring tailed lemur 
As they passed it eyed them coldly
 
Then a fireflower tree was sighted 
Young and slender, rich with flowers 
Which but recently had opened 
In the thinnest topmost branches 
 
But these branches were too fragile
To support a human climber
Therefore Lisa summoned Rosy
And began communicating

To the monkey what was needed
That she climb and pick the fireflower 
Rosy now became excited 
To be gaining such attention 

So she quickly scaled the branches
And began to chew the fire flowers!
Lisa signaled to the primate
This was not what she had asked for!
 
Rosy finally got the message 
Tore off three or four fine branch tips
Richly covered with the fire flowers 
Which she brandished as a trophy
 
And she now grew animated
Started screeching with excitement 
Leaped and swung between the branches
Vanishing into the foliage 
 
Of the near surrounding forest
Holding fast her crimson fireflowers 
Matto and their young companions 
Started calling to the monkey
 
To return to them the flower twigs
The baboon, though, made no answer
Lisa was by this untroubled 
She paid Rosy no attention
 
Calmly turned about in silence 
Started walking down the hillside  
Beckoning to her companions 
To commence their homeward journey 
 
As they all retraced their footsteps 
As they climbed the steepest incline
Downhill through the highland forest 
Rosy now appeared among them

In her hand the brightly coloured 
Bundle of the fireflower branches
Now had grown to twice the number
Covered with the healing petals

Details | Fossa Poem |

Odyssey from Africa 14f

Odyssey from Africa 14f

This colossal ratite was the
Largest bird on all the planet
It would live on Madagascar 
Till the time of William Shakespeare

“Let me tell you” said the monarch 
Quietly pleased at Han’s reaction 
“What I find to be most curious,
Something hinting at a mystery
 
“Of the many birds and creatures  
Which inhabit our great island 
Very few can be encountered 
Living on the westward mainland
 
“All the lemurs of the forest
And the savage golden fossa
Massive towering baobab trees and
Spiny forests of our dry-lands

“All appear to be exclusive 
to our lonely Island Kingdom 
Different from their mainland cousins 
Like the starry yellow orchid

“Like our purple periwinkle  
With its gentle star-like calyx
Fishes of our lakes and rivers
And a host of birds and beetles.

“Could it be that isolation 
On this ocean-circled island
Moulded life by adaptations
Suited to our island living?
 
“So that life forms are not constant
But can slowly grow divergent 
Over countless generations?
This would be a thing most wondrous!

“Furthermore, our scholars tell me
That our island’s western shoreline 
In its colours, forms and textures
Bears a very close resemblance 

“To the rocky coastal hillsides
Over on the western mainland 
Whispering to us a mystery: 
Did an ancient hand of heaven

“With a vast titanic strength once
Rend our country from the mainland?
Pull this isle across the sea 
To exile at the edge of sunrise?”
 
In the counter facing section
Of the great museum hallway
There were several rows of tables
And by some of these were seated

Scholars who examined closely 
Specimens in trays or bottles
Kept in clear preserving spirits
Alcohol from distillation 
 
At one table several scholars 
Carefully worked with tools of metal
Chipping rocks and slabs of limestone 
To uncover forms of creatures
 
Fossil prints within the rocks of 
Animals and plants so ancient 
That no human ever saw them
Windows on forgotten ages
 
But King Ptolemy now beckoned
Han toward another table
Where there sat a girl apprentice 
Her first season as a scholar 

She examined twigs and branches
That were piled up on her table 
Working to identify them
Writing symbols onto fabric 
 
Now and then she left her table
Walking over to the cabinets
To compare one of her samples 
With a reference on exhibit 
 
Then the king picked up one twiglet
That was smooth and pale in colour 
It had washed up on the shoreline 
Having long been in the ocean

Details | Fossa Poem |

Odyssey from Africa 14e

CHapter 14 King Ptoleny the 2nd (cont.)

Thus they charted weather systems 
Grey depressions bringing rainclouds,
Towering dark cumulonimbus,
Or the violent storms and cyclones
 
And in turn this processed data,
One or two days’ weather forecast,
Spirited across the island 
By the network of the flag-towers

So the fishermen at harbour 
And the farmers on their holdings 
Could employ this precious knowledge 
By it gain success and safety
 
(And this network of the watch-towers
Spread much more than weather data!
News and gossip from the palace
Added to a growing chatter) 
 
“Come and see the weather center”
Then King Ptolemy continued
Leading Han toward the palace 
With his retinue of warriors 
 
After mounting up a staircase 
Out they walked into a chamber 
Saw at once the large map table 
Ringed about by several scholars 

Who were studying intently
Fabric sheets and wood-carved objects
Bearing symbols rich in meaning 
Spread around the large map surface 
 
“Let me introduce our scholars:
This is Anwat, this is Jobas”
And the wise sagacious servants 
Greeted Han in courtly manner
 
“I can see you men are busy;
Let’s move on to our next chamber”
And the monarch led Han further
To an even larger hallway
 
Han beheld a world of wonders
And was breathless with amazement!
This was a museum of life forms 
Creatures, birds and plants and fishes.

All along one side were cabinets
Fronted by bright glass, displaying 
Well preserved, in life’s true colour
Specimens of plants and animals 
 
Many thousands in their number
From the smallest to the largest
Tiny bugs with moths and beetles
With a myriad flowers and orchids

Comet moths with four false eyes and
Lizards, butterflies and spiders 
Many of the mounted life forms 
Were endemic to the kingdom 

Bloated red tomato frogs and
Brightly pigmented chameleons
Stripy tailed and bright-eyed lemurs
And the little spiny tenrec

Labelled each with written symbols 
In an alphabet and grammar 
That the scholars had developed
For the first time on our planet  

Han was startled by the quirky 
Aye-aye with its melancholic 
Eyes and long and slender fingers
Used for prying bugs from tree-bark
 
And the predatory fossa
Catlike hunter of the kingdom 
But the most impressive creature 
Dominating the exhibit 

Taxidermed with loving skill, there
Stood the mighty Aepyornis
Glaring down upon the chamber
From a height of three full meters

Details | Fossa Poem |

Sonho comanda a vida

Sonho comanda a vida

O sonho 
é uma constante da vida 
tão concreta e definida 
como outra coisa qualquer.
 
O sonho 
é batom,
é espuma, é fermento, 
bichinho de focinho pontudo, 
que fossa através de tudo 
num perpétuo movimento. 

O sonho 
é paleta, é cor, 
é pincel, 
é base, 
máscara,
é mate 
magia, 
é Cabo da Boa Esperança! 

saiba, sonhe, 
que o sonho comanda a vida. 
Que sempre que uma pessoa sonha 
o mundo pula e avança 
como bola colorida 
entre as mãos de uma criança.

Details | Fossa Poem |

O Sonho

O Sonho

As pessoas não sabem que o sonho 
é a vida 
que dá vida
tão concreta e definida 
como outra coisa qualquer, 
como estas maritacas que gritam 
em bebedeiras de verde. 

As pessoas não sabem 
que o sonho 
é vinho, é batom, é fermento, 
bichinho de focinho pontiagudo, 
que fossa através de tudo 
num perpétuo movimento. 

As pessoas não sabem 
que o sonho 
é tela, é cor, é pincel, 
base, fuste, vitral, 
contraponto, 
sinfonia, 
máscara grega, magia, 
que é mapa do mundo distante, 
rosa-dos-ventos
que é Cabo da Boa Esperança!

As pessoas não sabem
nem sonham, 
que o sonho comanda a vida. 

As pessoas não sabem
Que sempre que uma pessoa sonha 
o mundo pula e avança 
como bola colorida 
entre as mãos de uma criança.

Sonhe hoje,
Sonhe sempre.