Best Hunting Poems

Hunting for treasure poems;
Midst summer morn~
I am adrift in the wilderness.


All of a sudden~
a European euphony soars
like a midnight sonata
in pianissimo and decrescendo.

I run to chase the symphony~
and to my delight,
a lilac light leads 
a perfumed path
to a wondrous woodland.

And there I find 
a precious...

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"Wondrous" this dynamic group,
That concocts their hearty poetic soup,
Then sit, then wait, always polite,
For comments that the others write.

But lofty are artistic goals,
As we bear our hearts and expose our souls,
And catapulted into heaven,
When we receive that cherished rate of "seven".

A "six" is like a...

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                                       the hawk drifts slowly
  ...

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The rolling, hollow, baying sounds cascading from the fen,
'cause there's a bobcat up a tree and the dogs are loose again.
The cat suddenly settles, and the hunting pack goes quiet.
A man whistles to call them, but these rowdy dogs won't buy it.

Like men in a...

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I. 
In the orange land, 
the sidewalks race wild with them, 
postured like statues of royal gardens 
the marble lions 
amongst hibiscus limbs. 

II. 
I like the smell of them, 
earth warmed dirt 
and fallen honeysuckle 
baked 
beneath the Florida sun. 

III. 
I poke with...

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I’m hunting high and low,
For someone I am yet to know
I can sense the beating of her heart,
But I know not where to start
She will bring me joy, bring me peace,
And maybe the loneliness will cease
So here I am,
Is she within the reach of my...

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Puritans gather in Congress' hallowed halls, faces glum
   Trampling truth, blowing horns, banging drums
      Of blazing envy, wrath, and sloe-eyed sleaze

Pelosi-Schumer's moralizing minions on their knees
   Digging up dirt on disapproved-of nominees
    ...

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I heard a story once about people up north.
Where there’s long days and long winters
And the snow piles higher than houses.

They hunt wolves in winter,
Finding ways to do it safely.
Horrific and brilliant methods.

Take a knife and dip it in blood
Freeze the blood on the blade,
Do...

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Sunrise, a
lighter shade of gray
replaced a starless black.

Pines stand sketched -
one dimensional and sad,
shrugging - not knowing
if the day is
worthy of a smile.

While a robin adds
another twig to its
tightly woven hopes
as instinct whispers,

Worm hunting is always better
on a rainy morning....

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                                    V        ...

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                                       GOOD QUILL HUNTING
   ...

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Written: September 07, 2023
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I can't sleep at night, so I stay alive.
I am awake, and I search and strive.
I'm no warrior, just a bumbling scrambler.
Restless nights render me a rambler.

I crave a paladin, a light to guide my way.
Yet, gloom reigns, and all hope wanes away.
Into...

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I hesitate to get my cool clean drink this morning.
Something is different. The cold air is the same.
The water is still, I do not sense danger. 
There is a lack of sameness however.

I look at my brother and shake my head as he
Starts for the...

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Twas the night before deer season
and all through the town
all the hunters were campin';
there was no one around.

The guys weren't all snuggled 
and warm in their beds.
Instead they're in sleeping bags
dreaming of mounted buck heads.

They hope to get out early
and see a huge buck!
To hear...

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When the full moon rises,
and the stars start to glow.
Down to that old creek bank,
is where I like to go.

A few leaves still hanging,
shaking in the breeze.
Holding on for dear life 
to them persimmon trees.

Out across the gully,
other side of the bridge.
Coon hounds hot on...

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