Best Poachers Poems
Ellie was just three months old,
When she was brought to our sanctuary,
A safe haven was our fold.
She was an orphan, her mother,
Her sister, her aunt, her brother,
All chased and shot, and left to die,
From our sad experience we knew,
That probably a foul mouthed,
Red faced, sun frazzled man
Whose muscled legs would look
Disgusting,
And who with red eyes bulging
Would say,
What a booty,
We have in the truck today.
He would generate an excitement,
Of the atrocity they had
Committed, saying they would
Receive a bonus this month
Added to their pay.
And what was their booty,
A truck full of tusks
Elephants killed when it
Was still light,
Until dusk
Too dangerous at night.
A war between poachers
And rangers
How could rangers,
Gentle souls, who loved animals,
Equal the poachers trained brutality,
Who had not a trace
Of humanity.
Baby Ellie
Was found,
Starving, scared and cold,
Somewhere in the African bush
Almost dead,
But she survived a shot to the head.
We had other young orphans,
They all would play
As baby elephants do,
And slowly Ellie became stronger.
Her mummy who faced
Horrific slaughter,
Would have been so proud of
Her daughter.
Rehabilitation was done,
It was both work and fun.
Eight months later we all
Thought that it was time,
For Ellie to be with her own kind,
And knew she would find
In the African bush, a new
Family who would care
And love her.
Clumsily she got into the truck,
Perhaps it was fear that
Brought the smell of death near,
Awkwardly.
And hesitantly she walked
Down the ramp,
A mama elephant spied her first,
And with their recognizable gait,
And heavy weight,
Walked to one another,
Swinging their trunks,
And so, they met,
And side by side they walked
To the nearby water pan,
Our hearts sang,
As Ellie turned and let out
A loud,
But proud,
Thunderous trumpet,
Thank you she meant,
I love you too.
Ellie had finally
Come home,
To her own.
International Earth day prompts us not to forget
that the world we inhabit is under great threat
Blue oceans are being choked by plastic pollution
reduce, reuse and recycle is the simple solution
The balance of nature has been upset by man
species close to extinction, poachers strike if they can
If we don’t act quickly these rare breeds we’ll lose
their only protection is in nature reserves or zoos
Felling the rain forest is an issue we must combat
deforestation is destroying animal’s natural habitat
The effects of global warming on earth is far reaching
reducing fossil fuels is what we should be preaching
Educating both young and old is the key to success
we must act together to try to sort out earth’s mess
2/17/19
Pangolins
Oh precious little Pangolins
How many people know of you?
Though forty million years you've lived
Your numbers have become too few.
While hunted for your scales and meat
By poachers, a great price they seek.
You curl up in a little ball,
Such easy prey because you're meek.
Unless donations keep you safe
Extinction soon will be your fate.
My prayer is that to know of you
The public will appreciate
Your contribution to this Earth.
Of ants and insects do you dine,
A gentle creature of the wild.
Your presence here is quite divine.
© Connie Marcum Wong
**Dedicated to Maria Diekmann who is devoted to saving the Pangolin
and other individuals who are making a difference.
*A Pangolin is captured every five minutes in Africa and Asia combined.
(This link is a MUST SEE and shows them in action after brief introduction)
http://www.pbs.org/wnet/nature/worlds-wanted-animal-full-episode/16258/
https://youtu.be/ThDsJEzbBg4 (Video)
https://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/earth/wildlife/11370277/Pangolins-why-this-cute-prehistoric-mammal-is-facing-extinction.html. (website)
This poem is a re-post from last year for the situation is worsening daily.
ELEPHANT’S GHOST
I am represented as a trinket on a
Human's wrist.
I was bought from a vendor,
Sometime last September,
I remember the vendor, he was,
Approached by a man in the street,
This man had stepped out of the shadows,
The vendor to meet.
The man from the shadows
Met with two other men
Their march sounded like military feet.
Money was exchanged, someone
Pointed to a truck down a lonely street,
The poachers knew
This deserted, but well known beat,
In the truck were the tusks of us all,
These despicable people had,
Gunned us down, and one by one,
Including me we met our fall.
Our tusks were hacked out,
Some of us not quite dead no doubt!
But I haven’t lost hope,
It isn’t too late,
To stop our bloody, grizzly fate,
Because a trinket made from part of me,
Means that humans can visibly see,
And then ask, for goodness sake,
Can we not try and end this heartache,
This horrible butchery,
With which we can all agree,
That, trinkets made from the tusks of
An elephant like me, never ever be sold,
And become the past, a history,
That will then only be told,
As a fairy story about wicked men
Who killed elephants in scores of ten.
Elephant proudly is my name,
Please stop this greedy killing game,
I chose to have my ghostly say,
And look forward to the day,
When elephant trinkets no more be made,
And for them be paid
In a sleazy vendors store,
Behind drawn curtains and a greasy floor.
I now can rest,
And feel blessed,
I appeal to all who hear,
For I’ve whispered in your ear,
Please be my mouth piece,
Try and make this madness cease,
Let us in unison say,
Poachers go away!
Swimming in the river were some elephants
They were giving themselves a bath
And over by the river bank
Was a lonesome male giraffe
From the murky waters peeking out
Were a crocodiles eyes
He had hold of a wildebeest
That was taken by surprise
From nowhere came a rhinoceros
Who had something more to say
He jumped onto the crocodile's back
So the beast could get away
A female cheetah was also there
She was fishing for a meal
But so were some hyenas
They were looking for a steal
A monkey and a chimpanzee
Had been watching from the trees
They groomed each other spotless
And they ate each others fleas
And soon the mighty lion came
To have himself a drink
When all the others heard his roar
They left without a blink
Then the sound of a gun was fired
And it opened the lion's ears
He heard the sound of a gun before
And it's one thing that he fears
In a jeep were poachers racing
From a sheriff on their trail
He was catching up to them
To throw their butts in jail
One by one the animals returned
To get back to the water
They all get to live another day
Today, there is no slaughter
Nothing for Something
What filled your footsteps cannot
Fill mine, yes, a wave does not
Break twice, but do you think
I too have not risen when lured
By the hopes of vacant promises; inured
The rage of empty shelves?
“Free beer tomorrow”, the Pols perennial tout,
"We’ll fill your still-empty mugs with stout,
Then charge it to some other sucker’s tab."
Like poachers back to the same pond
Each season for the harvest, your bond
For the count is assumed.
Do you not see their willful blind,
The guns swinging upward to find
Your range?
How many generations will comply
Before just one dares to deny
The users’ their presumption?
That fire raging from the double cross
Can cleave the element from the dross
And emancipate your art.
Copyright Paul M Thomson 2020
Where sun-kissed savannahs endlessly sweep,
And acacia crowns the skies, a verdant keep,
A titan walks, with earth-shaking tread,
A monument of grace, with wisdom bred.
Oh, Elephant, colossal and wise,
Your eyes, like embers, gleam beneath the skies.
Your ivory tusks, like sun-bleached spears,
Pierce the heavens, dispelling all our fears.
Through emerald depths, you silently stride,
A living fortress, with nature as your guide.
Your trunk, a trumpet, blasts a rhythmic call,
Echoing through valleys, grand and tall.
With a gentle touch, you pluck a leafy prize,
Nourishing your form, beneath the sunlit skies.
Matriarch wise, with love unbound,
You lead your herd, on sacred, ancient ground.
Oh, Elephant, guardian of the plains,
Your ears, like maps, etched with wisdom's gains.
You listen to the whispers of the earth,
Guiding your steps, is a testament to your worth.
But shadows lurk, a darkness cast afar,
Where greed and folly wage a callous war.
Forests recede, and poachers stalk the night,
Threatening your future, with a consuming blight.
Let us stand tall, and raise a voice so strong,
To shield these giants, where they rightfully belong.
For in their presence, we find our guiding light,
A mirror to our soul, a future ever bright.
So let us cherish them, these titans of the land,
Protecting their haven, with a caring hand.
For in their grandeur, a truth we come to see,
Respect for all creatures, eternally.
Oh, Elephant, may you forever roam,
In lands untamed, your true and sacred home.
A timeless emblem, of strength and majesty,
Forever etched, in Earth's tapestry.
GREEDY POACHING
Rhino poachers often hunt at night
When the Rhino has poor eye sight.
These prehistoric creatures
Cannot distinguish human features.
But with a well-developed sense of smell
Fortunately they can always tell
When danger or a poacher is close,
Thanks to their sensitive nose.
Every horn that they take back,
And Rhino body that they hack,
Is yet more money in their belt,
To which no sentiment is felt.
Subsistence Poachers who randomly
Kill, fit a less important role,
Their profit cannot compare,
To syndicates with international flair!
These professionals are sourced
From a military career,
Using weapons and tactics that
Inflict unimaginable pain and fear.
Rhinos are darted from the air,
Without hesitation or human care.
Some Rhinos are found still half alive,
And veterinary surgeons rush to help
Them survive,
But could these same people perhaps
Be involved and accept,
These horrific acts, could they in fact,
Be suspect?
Will Rhinos become extinct,
This is a worrying fear,
Statistics do indicate that this scenario,
Is realistically near!
Long ago,the guinea fowls congregated
Clourfully and innumerably
And sang sweet songs
And played in the savanah
They sang for the for the antelopes
To leap and dance in the beautiful grass lands
The farm boys listened and danced too
And their hearts were merry
At night around the fire the folk tales were interesting;
The wild dogs barked ;
The nightjars called peacefully;
The owls clamorous,booming hoot was heard
The starry fireflies flashed in courtship elaborate dances
But the conflagrations came
And swept across the grass lands and bushvelds
The axemen were merciless ;
And by their millions the trees were severed
The poachers were ruthless
And the animals wild knew not more peace
The guinea fowls were poisoned
The nature loving farm boys beheld
All this chapter in heavy hearted silence
The guinea folws and other song birds
Shall never sing again
And the times shall never be better again.
An Evil War
They walk the plains of sun-dried grass,
together in a row;
the mothers, with their young ones, pass
to search for food and go
for miles with thirst to find a drink;
as dry season appears.
They walk along, each one in sync,
alert with eyes and ears.
On different paths, the males walk too
to feed as they patrol,
and somehow they, with inner clue,
all find a water hole.
And peacefully they live their days,
adapt to nature's reign
that serves them well to drink and graze
and procreate their strain.
But space in their domain is less...
encroached by humankind,
uncaring of the crowding stress
they leave on them behind.
Still worse, they have become aware
of threats of crueler kind,
and learned to watch, to hide, beware
of horrors which they find.
So oft they see a sight disturbed...
sprawled out along their path;
a member of their precious herd...
they trumpet loud with wrath.
They stop and mourn like humans do,
stand vigil, shocked and chilled;
caress the faceless friend they knew...
who for his tusks...was killed.
Sandra M. Haight
~1st Place~
Premiere Contest: Evil Is Everywhere
Sponsor: Brian Davey
Judged: 10/08/2016
BBC News: The War On Elephants: April 28, 2016
"Bloated and eerily upright the large adult elephant was still standing where it had been killed - just next to the stream - its face hacked off....It had been fleeing the carnage in the mud 100m or so away, where the remains of four other adults and one young elephant lay fallen and disfigured, their tusks and trunks all taken for ivory and meat. Like a macabre statue, this faceless animal stood as a landmark to the horrors of poaching, of the ivory trade, and of the mass slaughter of the last remaining elephants in central Africa...
“It's worth so much more than just the animals. It's about trying to stabilise a whole region which has been unstable for decades. It's about trying to basically build peace. And that is why we wake up every morning, why everyone fights this war, and why we try and save the elephants. It's about basically saving Congo. On 23 April 2016, three rangers were killed in a fresh clash with poachers. Park manager Erik Mararv and another ranger were badly injured."
Poachers shrug off
their critics,
who say that they are aiding
elephants' extinction - the
people who are thirsty
for money from tusks claim
that poaching
doesn't destroy the world,
it only destroys poverty
and feeds their hungry families.
They press the triggers,
without foreseeing a wild with no elephants;
a nation with no tourism;
an orphaned elephant calf;
a beauty scrapped off from Mother Nature's creation....
Photo #2
Date: 09/04/2016
If I were an elephant, I'd lumber around
Gracefully plodding on my stomping ground
If I were an elephant, I'd flap my ears
High above the savannah with no equals or peers
If I were an elephant, I'd cover myself in mud
I'd clash with other bulls, especially during rut
If I were an elephant, I'd cause a great stampede
Crushing all the poachers before they could succeed
If I were an elephant, I'd collapse all circus tents
And I'd save all pachyderms from being in such events
I wouldn't be arrogant, but elegant and eloquent
I wouldn't be petulant, but prevalently excellent
I wouldn't be negligent or hesitant or feculent
I'd be so affectionate and have an even temperament
I'd be the most eminent in my thought development
I'd never be a detriment to a human settlement
I would be the most intelligent and it would be self-evident
To the peasant and the president if I were an elephant
12-5-2016
Yes as inspired by great poet Brian Johnston, I retitle this, ''God's kind of poetry.''
Glorify the Great
Architect
Awesome artist of nature
Author of the universe,
Glorify God
for beauty infinite,
For the markings bedecked
for the striped and the spotted,
The mottled and the dotted
for the gold bedecked
for the glint 'n' glitter bespangled
For the fawns speckled
And other animals dappled.
The cobras bespectacled!
Variety in flora and fauna.
His creation's so beauteous
whether it hath markings
or be it plain,
it's all simply wondrous.
But for God's sake, let that fur
be left solely on its owner
for poachers don't own it
nor do they the python's skin.
So hunters and poachers beware
Unless nobody does care
any longer
if beauty be extinct!
Opt for other options
for your pillowcasing eiderdowns
Don't strip the feathered fauna
of their fine downy gowns!
Be ye cautious about culling or killing
Let no blood be rapaciously spilling
So forever humanbeings may admire
God's stippled effects on animals
And His ripple effect on river canals!
My teeth are sharp and long
Hunger rouses me from rest
A family to feed
I needs must do my best
I travel many miles
Just some poachers kill lying around
I am not touching that.
Carrion picks food from the ground
The trees begin to thin, I can be seen
Where do I search for my prey?
My eyes are good, my nose is keen
My family are hungry another day.
The trees are sparse almost disappeared
The have been cut and dragged away
This was my hunting ground
But I see no recognizable prey.
A human on two legs
A scythe in his hand
But my family need some food
And this prey cannot take a stand
Hunger prompts me on
My family may die
This is the food I’ll take
One leap, he sees his last sky
No fight, no weight to drag him home
But there was no other meat
These humans waving sticks and guns
But my tiger speed they will not beat.
I could be like the carrion picking at the scraps
The body’s poachers are killing
But my home is being ravaged
By those humans, who the soil are tilling.
No thought for me and my family
Except to hang my skin on a wall
But my family come first
And will until from hunger, we all shall fall.
© 16/08 2013
contest entry
On a cold winter’s morning
in the Wicklow mountains
a lone man stalks the land;
his hound shadows him.
He moves silently, swiftly,
approaching a clearing
where the pine forest gives way
to heather-covered hills.
Alert to movement,
he steps carefully into position.
His dog stands stock still, waiting;
its nose quivers
in the icy air.
He slips the rifle from his shoulder
moving to a tree
bare of branches.
Carefully he pulls the trigger,
the dog darts forward.
Dragging the carcass of a Sika
he walks through a forest
stripped of bark.
Trunks ooze with infection;
the reason for the cull.
He hears gunfire ahead.
‘Could be poachers.’
He investigates.
Poachers are the true vermin
in this environment.
They kill for money,
no respect for the species.
Stags beheaded, bodies remain,
inexperienced hunters,
the wounded animals suffer.
An animal lover,
he lives a solitary life
at his isolated cottage.
Keeper of the deer
deep within the mountains.