Best Stoat Poems
~~
Hand in hand they meander through the deserted lane,
freshly fallen snow crumpling under foot
Littering the sky, Bright stars, glittering like coins on a belly dancers belt,
slowly surrender to the coming dawn
Inch by measured inch the glory of Ra overpowers the starlight.
In a pale blue sky, a pale golden disc, the colour of ripe oats at harvest time,
looking close enough, and cool enough, to reach out and touch.
Brilliant rays, arrows of liquid gold, capture the pristine landscape,
splintering like a million shards of shattered glass.
No sound, only silence, profound, in the clear crystal air.
In the distance, a cock crows.
Long morning shadows cast by tall pines,
revealing a lone stoat, resplendent in his ermine coat.
Emerging from shade, merging with sunlight,
loping across the virgin snow with bounding grace.
White on white,
only the black tip of his tail and tiny footprints betraying his presence.
In the distance, a dog barks,
A small cottage, a stone chimney, a whisper of smoke announcing a new day,
A hardy little robin pecking with determination to uncover water under ice.
A door slams, the robin takes flight.
Snow slides from the roof to gather in piles like miniature Himalayas.
Icicles drop pearls as the thaw sets in. The world is awakening.
In the distance, a train whistles.
Still holding hands they walk on.
~~
Categories:
stoat, seasonssnow, snow,
Form:
Free verse
When the snout of lush abundance is full and flowing,
when all prey and creature-kind spill upon the verdant swards,
then it is that I worry night and day,
for the stoat, fox and hawk are at work,
they scythe in the whelm and nimiety, they hack and harrow.
The kits and chuckling’s are many, the light too bright;
for then the foragers forgoing fright, are palpable and open.
The long-eared nibblers, hairs on scattered rodents laid bare,
they scutter, skitter and twitch much in the open
greatly prone to be pounced upon;
their paltry pelts all unhidden, and being many,
and not running, they are huddled; yet not strong.
If this slew not ease, if the grabbers not falter,
if the singled-out dither, the glut not wither,
then the green snake will climb to where nestlings hutch -
they all so easily plucked and quickly snatched.
I worry for the wee brown birds; mottled shells still unhatched.
I fear a winnowing, withal a harsh hazard of gorge and sate.
I fret for the freshly delivered, the teeming,
the newly produced, all the bounding bounty
for those too easily found and so, arrived too late.
Categories:
stoat, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
soundless in soft snow
stoat displays black tip of tail...
all else- white on white
Contest: Animal Haiku
Sponsor: Debbie Guzzi
Written: November 2011. Margaret Foster
The stoat is a type of weasel. In winter his coat turns white ( ermine) except for the black tip of his tail.
Categories:
stoat, nature,
Form:
Haiku
>I once had an onion
And he was very bad
Kept kicking all the apples
Made them very mad
He once stole a monkey
Then sold it to a stoat
He borrowed someone's hamster
And threw it in a moat
Climbing up a ladder
One day in sunny June
He found a baby rattlesnake
Singing a happy tune
Wrapping it up in a bag
He took it far away
And where they were for a week or two
I really couldn't say
He collected tiny unicorns
And threw them through a hoop
I did get fed up that day
So I made him into soup<
Categories:
stoat, funny
Form:
Light Verse
The grey mists of a sleeping dawn, cosetting birds still
wrapped up warm in bed, watch a stoat emerge from
its burrow and sprint across his meadow, like a caterpillar
making humped back bridges in Concertina motion
The stoat approaches the discarded shape and sniffs it
for signs of danger, life and food. In that order. Looming
like mountains on the ground and covered in a Turin
Shroud of frost, are a child's pair of crumpled denim blue
jeans, vapoured brittle-stiff with ice crystals overnight from
the nearby stream . Which still wends it's course beneath
ice-capped plates, upon which faux steam rises up like
volcanic springs.
The shape also manifests a pair of very small dumpster boots,
made for the tough little boy of tomorrow. The set is
completed by a vibrant red jumper, a little too big for the lifeless
form it covers. This hoar, this frost of disjointed frozen dendrites,
rests calmly upon this physical testament to the now peaceful
soul that lies within. Whose lungs beneath lie dormant and past
caring, whether or not the air is fresh and cold on its failed
breath. Alibaster-marbeled skin profers one hand raised in a
Post mortem wave. And a lid's refusal to fully shut one eye,
desperate to remain in contact with a living world and deny
the truth of having passed. What the eye has really become is
a dull reflective mirror for the twitching movements of an inquisitive
proboscis. This draws the eye of a man, standing at a man's
full height, able to see across two hundred paces of a frost
bitten meadow and light upon the vivid colour of red, set against
a backdrop of rime white. Eventually, a voice from the ether
confirms the location by a frozen stream and supports the
recommendation to keep the mother away. The devastation
of a hundred heart-stopping caught breaths yet to be lived.
Before the tears can flow and the utter destruction begin
The startled stoat runs away from its own reflection. Back
to the warmth and safety of its hole, in the bank on the Stream.
And the grey mists sadly watch the final act, before its last few
screaming tendrils are burned away on the coming sun
Categories:
stoat, children, death,
Form:
Free verse
Lawn furniture flavored ice cream
served in moxa cups
Candied eyes of freshwater bream
pickled bushdog pups.
Pig pizzle wrapped around a stick
grilled upon the deck
Woven rope with cat head and brick
hung about your neck.
Marzipan violin bowed by a stoat
badminton played widdershins
A toast of poison without antidote
barefoot on needles and pins.
Categories:
stoat, animal, fantasy, food, games,
Form:
Rhyme
Fox So Brave
Fox so brave in the daylight air,
No people around, he doesn't care.
Elusive creatures come out to play,
No human predators spoiling their day.
Air smells sweet, less carbon, less diesel,
Foot of my garden, Stoat plays Weasel.
Heathrow is quiet, terminals asleep,
Pleasantly eerie, not a sound or peep.
Humans in sanctuary, stay safe and sound,
New order in place for wildlife around.
It won't last long, enjoy while you can,
In a few weeks or more the return of man.
Fox so brave in the daylight air,
No people around, he doesn't care.
Categories:
stoat, animal, life,
Form:
Sonnet
before the beginning,
aches burnt slow fuses
in blood shrapnel'd fog,
salted feet tread spattered rain,
as men held spent while veiled mothers wept;
growth rings sat lonely on soot tarnished walls,
regrets wrung young necks snatched in flight down dank halls;
tho' faithful bones preach virtues of battle,
good soldiers pray not for eager roots,
duty once burnished brave Pericles' helm,
now under hill barrows form shadows for muster,
feeding shot powder thurible blessings;
as the fiddle fears the concerto's note,
unbaptized souls flee the thieving stoat;
under the moral eye,
sabers eased in tin, in sighs,
engendered discourse with the Other,
shattered friends, splintered foe,
remnants of another time;
desperate for the author's joke,
unbidden blades pierce tattered cloaks;
once upright men, wounded grimace men,
hobbled yet heroic still,
would dare yet to delve the authentic heart,
and wake the sleeper, sharpen pen, for
without ritual, gods survive war.
Categories:
stoat, war,
Form:
Free verse
Gabriel
Enter! Step across the threshold
unto a haunted house.
There’s tricky, tricky vermin here,
ssshhh ! Tread carefully like a mouse.
Heathens satyrs ,
bragging lazy waiters,
filthy filthy rats, large red cats.
A bully or two drunk through and through.
But mark me now all these pirates
twould bow down and fall,
begging in front of one
who rules ‘em all.
Gabriel !
A prince in reality
Oh mighty, mighty jester,
searching for a flea.
How the ghosts all about
do sit up and stare
if little Gabriel changes unto a bear,
and in a merry muddle
pisses straight unto a puddle .
Then to ride upon his mare of steel
to some fair isle that isn’t real.
All the maids do love him
cause he dances like a stoat
He’s three feet tall,
six years no more, master of all
So in this haunted house,
sssshhh! Tread carefully like a mouse.
Categories:
stoat, children,
Form:
Blank verse
The night in July was quietly chanting,
Its own lullaby, as if it was granting,
A sleep without trouble to people of Trees.
And all of a sudden a cry broke the peace,
From one of the houses, a cry like of geese,
‘Twas voice of woman hysterical-red!
She jumped all frustrated right out of her bed,
Her eyes were of fury, her voice sharpened, mad,
Her words like the arrows, the air was aflame!
“Perhaps, my dear hubby, to you this is game,
But such crumbling house isn’t fit for the dame!”
She yelled and she screamed as Stymphalian bird!
Then husband woke up:” Why. This is absurd!
Why screameth dear wifee a word after word?”
His voice sounded puzzled and deeply concerned.
But screaming continued and cursing unearned,
“If only of house would I previously learned,
Then I would have burned it the night I met you!”
“If only, if only beforehand we knew,
Perhaps another husband a castle could drew.
And I lucky man could then sleep like a bear!”
Yet still he concerned was of house that they share,
For what was the cause of such fiercely scare?
“But darling what woke you to such of a mood?
“What woke me? What woke me? You penniless crude!
A picture disgusting as none I have viewed!”
The man now was frightened, for what was this thing?
Oh what of the malice now devil did bring?
And does still this peril in house of theirs cling?
“But what darling, what was the source of your rage?”
“I live hubby not in the caves of Stone Age,
So that with such scenes I would need to engage!
For rat, dirty rat have just ran through my throat!”
The husband then burst into laughtery note:
“You lady were scared by the lunch of a stoat?
Now calm yourself woman, be not more afraid
.
Before has this rat many visits us paid.
Now I wouldn’t like a perpetual fight,
Please go to sleep, I wish you good night.
Categories:
stoat, humor, humorous, , Lullaby,
Form:
last Autumn colours -
lost in winter snow.
twin vapour trails
on sky November blue,
Canada geese in formation-
head south.
November sombre,December dark,
January,February cold and stark
Rain filled days of slush and muck,
webs on shards of gossamer shade
'til snowdrops matamorphise in the glade.
On the lawn strewn leavings
of a ravenous raptor-
nature's journal leafs another chapter.
makeshift banks
overhang into drifts-
snow falls icy blue
winter arrives late-
in the forest a stoat melts into
a snowdrift
out of the silence
of the winter night,
a single owl screech
darkness descends-
hunger abates
the tiles dusted with snow-
trickle down rivulets fill the
rain butt
Categories:
stoat, imagery, winter,
Form:
Imagism
NATURE’S CHAIN
a thick mist blankets the winter dawn---
necklaced jewels bedeck the hedge, winter arrives late ,in the forest a stoat melts into a snowdrift; Thermals rising with brown buzzard ground circling
silhouetted, shadowed before slaying
darkness descending slowly,out of the silence
of the winter's night,a single owl screech
hunger which haunts each dark hour,as coldness kills
Listen to me read this poem on youtube under name ichthyschiro
Categories:
stoat, nature,
Form:
Verse
Sitting in the shade of a willow tree
Reading, relaxing, enjoying the day
When, in the corner of my eye, I see
Soft shadows shifting and watch a stoat sway
Not moving a muscle, nerves all on edge
My eyes went searching, covering the ground
And there, in full view, beneath a brown hedge
A lone furry rabbit, helpless to bound
His stance was stock still, as if hypnotised
Standing seduced by the predator’s dance
His life, in an instant, was sacrificed
The rabbit, poor thing, had never a chance
Here in this valley beside a still brook
I read a sad page from natures own book.
Categories:
stoat, animal, nature,
Form:
Sonnet
Who are you?
Kangaroo
What do you do?
Kangaroo
You don't moo
Kangaroo
You're not a cow
Kangaroo
Or a sow
Kangaroo
Or a horse
Kangaroo
Of course
Kangaroo
You're not a cat
Kangaroo
Fancy that
Kangaroo
You're not a dog
Kangaroo
Or a frog
Kangaroo
Or a goat
Kangaroo
Or a stoat
Kangaroo
You're not a giraffe
Kangaroo
What a laugh
Kangaroo
You're not a bear
Kangaroo
Nearly there
Kangaroo
Who are you
Kangaroo that's you
Categories:
stoat, 1st grade,
Form:
Rhyme
The underlulating flight of a caterpillar in mismatched socks could well be confused for a cyber created calorie called counter. Counters are calamities and calamities are neither calm nor chaotic. The robotic maneuverings' of a saw can be said to be as cute as watching a small sparrow hop through the hedgerow unaware of wry intentions from the clap of cloud concrete poured from the hands of man. And the hands of man are neither a tick tick nor a cuckoo. So do nit land upside down when jumping from a cable car. Carnivorous clams are not that mischievous they in fact filled with weaknesses and weak is not a week nor a month either. So grab a towel and whirl it around. Spitting into goblets is not a good idea. And the peelings from a grapefruit are placed always in a line before prayer. Amen then. Great isn't it. Format wisely an increasing cloth. Coming calling called created chaotically charging chats. And a big hat on a sixty foot barn talking to the animals with a bin of senses. Destroy the grounds of the era of an untamed unfathomable sloth then. Stoat face. No ha today. And certainly no x for a made figure is about as x as pile of heifer excrement sizzling in a bowl. Goodnight. Z
Categories:
stoat, adventure, africa, , cute,
Form: