Best Hunter Poems
In search of the human mind
Different thoughts crossed my mind,
a few conclusions I could not find
The human mind has no stop!
Receiving input, danger, before I blow my top
Sometimes the light clicks
I think I figured out the problem
It's at the tip of my mind ;-)
Sorry, my brain cells did it again,
Ran out of THINK!
When it comes to love, I'm brain dead!
This is me talking to my brain,
"Are you just being lazy, you fell too quick?"
A game in a maze inside my head!
Give me some help, or what use are you
Open the way only you can unlock the door.
Unfold my future, stop hiding the key
How about it mind?
Do you want me to put you back on pills?
Stand back brain, while I explain your job.
The Human mind is not easy to read like a book
However, some are cruel limiting judgment, with one look
The mind plays tricks when too much information is perceived
The mind is related to the heart, sending signals the wrong way
The mind works when the body's asleep
(I call it a dream, I hope you don't mind I put it there!)
The mind creates beauty, wonders of the world
The mind is a soft whisper, a secret, my conscious ---I Swear
The mind is devious, tricky can outsmart like a fox
The mind is a beautiful thing to waste in a box
The mind can journey, without leaving its nest
The mind is knowledge, many fail to explore
The mind is a Captain, traveling far and beyond
The mind is like a paint brush, colorful art
The mind is a creature who hides in a cave
The mind is like pain, don't stop in its way
The mind is like a mime who does not talk at all
The mind is fragile, don't use it like a sponge
The mind is like a pair of shoes,
without the mind we're bare
The bottom line is, the mind is a mystery!
Don't mind me, I lost my mind, years ago :):):)
(THOUGHTS)
As I seize from greener pasture
Forgive me for taking away nature
lives have always been in vain
stopping them from breathing with pain
I toil never to hold my gun
with tears full of fun
The sleepless night became difficult
Because hunting was my cult
I regret taking away this joy of hunting
But not jolliness of killing
remembering the beautiful butterfly
and the choral singing of birds pass by
I never forget about the forest
even when I went to rest.
Perched from approaching danger quite at home high up on the tree
gazing encompassing the full view of everything around me
Listening to the whispers of the breeze flowing through the forest trees
Autumn leaves gracefully waltz downward on the woodland floor sea
Movement sounds of rustling leaves beneath the canopy of trees
Silently I fly spreading my wings striking with my talons wide
Down into the world with impact force I snatch my prey with pride
3/17/2016
. Goddess Lust
~ calm contemplation
~ trees bowing down at my feet
~ prey for new season
The hunter laughed, his rifle bright,
his boots like thunder in the night--
but deep within the twisted trees,
something stirred among the leaves.
Not a whisper, not a sound,
just breath like smoke along the ground.
A shadow moved--too fast, too wrong,
its eyes like embers burning strong.
"You took her life, now you will see--"
"the price of blood belongs to me."
The hunter turned, his hands went slack,
as antlers rose--tall, sharp, black.
Not bone, not wood, but something old,
a hunger carved in silent gold.
The forest wept, the branches swayed,
as Bambi stalked his helpless prey--
no longer soft, no longer mild,
but wrath reborn in Nature’s child.
A scream, a shot--too late, too late--
the hunter met his mother’s fate.
And when the dawn bled through the trees,
his skull lay tangled in the leaves.
Bambi watched with hollowed grace,
the morning light upon his face.
"No more hunters. No more pain."
"This is my forest. I remain."
I don't know that a poet
has life outside his poetry –
Oh!--on occasion
he may run with an exterior
pack...but bones of their kills
soon draw him back; not a
soul to be found, once all meat
stripped away – little real
difference between hunters
and their prey –
A seal hunter walked on a frozen lake,
not knowing that the ice would break.
He drowned and then he froze,
sunk down before he rose.
A passing seal would say, "ooh, that's nice",
as a face peered up from below the ice.
THE BUTTERFLY HUNTER
(Art by Carl Spitzweg)
"A butterfly I chanced to spy",
Resting blue on a branch nearby,
Another one stood its ally,
I chanced to spy a butterfly;
A small net, I had in my hand,
A cap on my head, my eyes scanned,
Seeing them, I began to fret,
I had in my hand a small net;
How to catch them, give me a hint,
My sun-reflecting glasses glint,
Each one looks like a huge blue gem,
Give me a hint how to catch them!
In astonishment, I do gaze,
With open mouth, am in a daze,
This small net is my punishment,
I do gaze in astonishment;
With wonder wings, towards the sky,
The giant blue butterflies fly,
In bright blue hue, there's orange rings,
Towards the sky with wonder wings;
I watch them go with heavy heart,
Their massive size gave me a start,
Or else, I'd have caught them, you know,
With heavy heart, I watch them go.
With ghost-like eyes, in evening sun,
I walk away, I'm not the one,
I'm no butterfly hunter, wise,
In evening sun with ghost-like eyes;
My trek thus far was just a waste,
No, I could never have them chased,
I am no hunter's avatar,
Was just a waste, my trek thus far.
T his great soul by the name of Steve Irwin
H as left this world doing what he loved most . . .
E nlightening us with the creatures of our earth. A
C onservationist on the brightest journey to
R eplenish the earth with endangered species
O h how you will be missed by all of us!
C rocodiles you valiantly fought for
O ffering them your compassion and love.
D eath came in your prime of life yet
I t is of great comfort knowing your are
L oved by millions throughout the world. Your
E nthusiasm for your work became contagious.
H unter was your title, a warrior for animal rights,
U nderstanding the urgency to end global warming. A
N aturalist unwavering. You shined brightly as a
T ender loving husband and father on an
E nvironmental quest. . . You will be lovingly
R emembered as a fine teacher and a great man!
Entry for Jared Pickett's Acrostic 2 contest
HUNTER
H efting rifles or their bows the warriors gather for their hunt--
U nder tents they find repose and plan their early morning jaunt.
N othing new—this stalking craft --where meat is taken for their clan,
T here have always been brave hands that find the food since time began,
E ver have they risked their lives tho' had some fun while they were out--
R adicals may snub their nose--- but hunger’s what it’s all about.
© Victoria Anderson-Throop 2013
The tiger snake
Does not hesitate to
Hunt by starlight
Night has fallen
dark and deep
creatures stir that had been asleep.
A light from passing cars flash into the dark
yellow eyes peer from the night
a scurrying movement catches the eye
then all is lost under the darken sky.
One of our furry friends goes on a hunt
looking for a meal
that is hiding in the nearby field.
Watching closely is another pair of eyes
seeking its prey
under that dark and cloudy sky.
The feline friend crouches low,
moving stealthily
eyes fixed
as an unsuspecting rodent scurries by
knowing that a meal is about to be served.
All the while in the dark of the night
another pair of eyes
gleaming yellow in the pass of the lights
watches as its meal is about to be had.
Silently without a sound
the pet approaches its prey
when out of the night the hunter
becomes the hunted
and dies in a most sudden way.
Just a quick look
First chapter of a book
First verse of a song
Can’t stay overlong
A 50-yard dash
Gone in a flash
Not right, not wrong
Can’t stay overlong
A heat seeking missile
God blows the whistle
God strikes the gong
Can’t stay overlong...
*Dedicated to my brother Ivan who lost his life on an airline training flight in 1984. 'Hunter' was his middle name...
The evening shadows
move through the branches to the top.
All through the winters' night
the cold white crystals fall,
they seldom stop.
No rest on upper branch
or lower limb you see.
but gently fall
from limb to limb
to plant themselves on me.
And there they grow,
and others come to rest
on cap and boot
and upturned coat
till all in white i'm dressed.
And not a bird or beast
within the wood
could see or hear
so still there in the snow
beside the tree I stood.
But now it's time to go!
I'd watched old sol up in the sky
till winter's darkness
drowned his bright red face;
I'd stood and watched him die.
Now, walking from the wood,
with only moon's pale light to see.
The crisp chill sound
of winter's booted feet
speak mockingly to me.
For I must go!
Return to life's dull roll.
The dumb things of the wood
I leave behind
all pity me I know!
I fly up so high
floating in the sky
watching below for my prey
If they knew they'd fear
for them death is near
This is part of natures way
I make my attack
hit the water smack
With my talons grab on tight
The pike in my grip
it will never slip
It is trapped within my might
Trying a form Dr. Ram's explained called an "Alouette"
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