Best Pheasant Poems

I lie here in the prairie wind
Covered by grass that has no end
Just a pheasant seeking shelter
From a world that's helter skelter
'Tis the season of guns and dogs
And grown up men in camo togs
I stay as still as I can lie
In hopes the world will...

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When I can barely see the sun, I put on my clothes and get out the shot gun.
My bird dog is my shadow all full of excitement and love because he knows he'll soon be 
able to run.
We load in the truck and drive to...

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lone ring neck
i remember when 
you were plentiful...

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Golden-red pheasant
Glistening the morning sun,
Foraging delight....

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The weather was just how I liked it
Looking like it would stay dry
The breeze had the sharp tinge of winter
Beneath a low overcast sky

The thick blackthorn hedgerow behind me
Bordered the tangled beech wood
In front was a sowing of Rape seed
The shooting from here should be...

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Autumn and the leaves
are crisp in the swirling air.
Pheasant wings everywhere



Donal Mahoney...

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Pheasant Wings


Autumn and the leaves,
crisp in the swirling air, are
pheasant wings once more


Donal Mahoney...

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I started my career 
As a person that removed wax from ears
It was down in the Texas Panhandle
I would use the wax to make candles
But then no one wanted their ears cleaned 
The work was Far and few in between
It will be time to relocate...

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He reassured with a kiss
                                 And sorted out
     ...

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The ring-necked pheasant
captured in flight
on a coffee cup
never gets anywhere.

So it is with us.

Continually
the question -- the peaceful
insanity of elevator music.

Which poppy field
are we off to? Will we
shatter wings
or soar like Icarus II, sensing
wind and astonishment;
licking sun-cracked lips
till feathered shadows
paint sidewalks --
moreling the faint pink...

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Lo- Ever Pleasant GOLDEN PHEASANT

“Oh, allure thine my heart
Chinese pheasant, O rainbow pheasant ever pleasant 
Lo! Golden Pheasant”
With golden crest such art,
native to mountainous forests.
In the dense forest you may rest.



These too are also names you enlist
Thy unmistakable bright red body
Alternating black and orange fan...

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The sun has brung out a low spinescene
against the brush housing thrush and pheasants
My father moves as death, silhouetted 
A proper Shropshire lad I hang my neck

In shame and solidarity. The brittleboned,
the sky-minded, evicted from their homes
by the bullet, blinded with momentum,
shrieking with hunger, begging...

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He reassured with a kiss
                                 And sorted out
     ...

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In France, where a creek gently flows,
A hunter ventures to a place he knows.
With his wife ahead, beating the brush,
She making the hidden pheasant flush.

With muzzle raised, he's poised for flight,
As she flushes a pheasant into the sky.
He fires his twelve-gauge into the sky,
Knocking the...

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