Best Tailed Poems
*SILVER TAILED FOX*
silver tailed fox
running from silent trigger
trampled and fell---
~~~
the grasshopper
hops along the fern,
with long legs---
by;p.d.
fork-tailed azure crown
breed wolfs down trumpet creepers
they dive bomb red kites
Date created : 17 August 2020
NB
Trumpet vine / creepers nectar source for voracious bird.
Dive bomb as in bluff for deterring other species.
Perched, waiting, still
He swoops with swift precision
Red tail fanned in flight
His cry announcing intent
See the beauty in this flight...
Randy the ring-tailed raccoon
Had a very funny smell
And if you ever smelled him
You would run away pell-mell.
All of the other raccoons
Held their noses, called him names.
They were not nice to Randy,
Played him for the fool in games.
Then one frosty Christmas Eve
Santa said to him
"Randy with your smell so rank
You would stop an armored tank."
He pitied poor old Randy.
"You must have a bath tonight,
Then all the lady raccoons
Will not run away in fright."
Randy the ring-tailed raccoon
Now smells so extremely nice
All of his brother raccoons
Want to borrow his "Old Spice".
(to the tune of Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer.)won first place
Soaring high above the grassy terrain,
Which renders much more than daily grain.
The waving grass is inviting me aground,
But cautiously first I'll just look around.
Effortlessly floating aloft on thermal air,
I soar in large circles as below I stare.
A running Titmouse having now caught my eye,
has given me reason to soon leave the sky.
A dead tree branch has now become my perch,
as I stand a moment to continue my search.
Again detecting movement in the grass below,
as the mouse catches my eye off stealthily I go.
An occasional shrill cry is my only sound,
next my shadow, from above, on the ground.
With one swift lurch its life soon will end,
with beak and talons its small body I'll rend.
A daily occurrence in the food chain you see,
while I hunt for mice, other things hunt me.
My reason for killing, to survive, unlike man,
who kills me for pleasure and because he can.
The bar-tailed godwit
caught birddom by surprise
When word got out
just how far this bird flies
A juvenile Limosa lapponica,
satellite tag 2-3-4-6-8-4
flew nonstop from Alaska
to the Tasmanian shore!
13,560 kilometers nonstop,
eleven days and nights
A new world record for
marathon bird flights
"From Alaska to Tasmania?
The devil, you say!"
cried ravens and crows,
"Every bird knows,
claiming to fly 8400 miles
To the Tasmanian isles—
is the height of audacity!
No bird has the capacity
We protest with pugnacity
Demanding veracity!"
The godwits conveyed
a very chill groove
They had, after all
nothing to prove
having set the prior
world records in '20 and '21
A controversy was brewing
Would their achievements
be undone?
A commission was appointed
for a bird's-eye review
into the facts of the matter
the truth to pursue
Wise owls were chosen
to adjudicate this claim
To settle once and for all
who deserved the acclaim
Only item considered
had scientific backing
Since satellite data
Allowed accurate tracking
Of the tagged young bird's
ultramarathon flights
The facts indisputable
No need for bird fights,
ending investigation into
this migration gyration
Bar-tailed godwits awarded
the Oiseau de Plume
for being the farthest nonstop
flying bird in the room
The Arctic terns too
received acclamation
For flying the farthest
In their migration—pole to pole,
24,000 miles each year
causing most birds present to
stand up and cheer
in spontaneous applause—
But not all birds were willing
To concede their cause
Displaying proclivity
to resist the festivity
The crows and ravens
As they stormed out the door
vowed in unison, wings clenched,
"Nevermore!"
Good morning my wild and bushy tailed cat
Sometimes I wonder where you're at
You strut the streets so silently
Seeking where your prey might be
You shine above all other cats
Cause neither they know where you're at
You live your life just like a king
An image so proud to us you bring
Wow, you have such energy
You move around so gracefully
Seems to me you have no fear
My little friend, you are so dear
Sun slowly dipping in a springtime sky;
the wind's blowing and the pine boughs tossing.
From their warm, peaceful beds the meek and shy,
walk down to the river; and the crossing.
To the fields above, and forage a meal;
prance in the meadows; eyes and ears moving
Hear Blue Jay's calling to alarm with zeal.
Just twilight now, the waters glistening.
Squirrels and chipmunks have gone to their beds.
Barn Owls gliding upon whispering wings.
Night animals stir, sleepiness now shed.
Stand at the water, hear the crickets sing.
Return from the fields to sleep for the day
Just at dawn, they cross in the misty haze.
3/2/2021
Breath of Spring Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
Samantha gave her Daddy a disdainful look
He’s been out again with that ripper old chook
He’s been acting all gaga, the silly old fool
Isn’t it disgusting the way that men drool
Well maybe the oldies, ain’t’ got that long
So he’s having a naughty and singing his song
Dating the sheilas they forget all about you
Taking em roses, strewth what a hullabaloo
Courting with tinnies or a plonk or two
Hitting on the good sort and lying to you
Saying your precious his own special cat
Then sneaking out to dinner, like a real dingbat
Forgetting me and his daughter the writing nerd
Wonder if today from that Yanks she’s heard
Then she’ll get a call in the middle of the night
Disturbing my slumbers …so why don’t he WRITE
Samantha she say’s “I’ll take care of you”
A quid in the pocket, she’ll soon flit through
So who’s gonna love me…well maybe that dame
Anna Banana… Holy-dooly!.. I’ve forgotten the name
She gave me a pat and whispered real sweet
Probably wants my blessing and a share of my meat
Whiskers she can’t have, nor the couch or the chair
Why are there other women? Cripes life’s unfair!
Ripper: term of approval
Chook; slang for a woman
Naughty: sex
Strewth: Exclamation of surprise
Plonk: wine
Good sort: attractive woman
Dingbat: slightly mad
Quid: two dollars
Holy- dooly: An exclamation of surprise
Whiskers: Tin cat food
Cripes: Swearing slang
in the strong heart society there is one known as the buffalo eye. do the sweat lodge ceremony to speak with the stone turtle. you will see the Lakota sun dance at first light with the canupa. All my relatives... walk the red road, listen to the black road. call to grandfather spotted eagle among the natural people, and red eagle will allow elk trail to use the fire of no end
Screeching in the wind
Perched high around the bend….
Field mouse met his end
John was invited to participate in the sweat lodge ceremony.
You may or may not experience your vision quest.
He had no preconceived ideas but enjoyed his Apache friends.
A bit of peyote put him into another realm.
He shapeshifted, becoming a red-tailed hawk.
He flew to the top of the mountain.
He felt adventurous and free, he had passion and strength.
He never wanted to come down.
Afterwards he knew he could meet any obstacle
Surmount any pinnacle.
It was more than enough.
Staring onto the blanks of skin depths,
I might as well fake for forsake.
Bright eyed and brushy tailed,
Hidden in the mask of despair.
Abandoned quiets of youthfulness,
juggling with lives apse.
"Hush, speak no more.
You ain't my reign,
nor am I interested in lame."
A beginner's mind, which I am not aware of.
Thinking of rainbow vivid and lush greens,
carving forced passions of strangers beliefs.
Bright sleeked while the sharp of shadows go un-noticed.
"I do not fear the dark"
So I say.
While my eyes were coved to mantic sounds of silences.
'Youth' it was someone said.
Bipolar I corrected.
Fluffy tailed performers
Chitter chatter among themselves
No one listening, everyone slathering
Juicy gossip
Taking daring fifteen foot leaps and dives
From magnificent heights, barely landing on
Tiny branches.
Flinging themselves with wild abandon
And oodles of faith into the air, flipping and
Swirling. Contortionists.
Sliding up trunks the way others slide down.
Landing with a well-earned acorn in their jaws.
Less than eighty, now ... they're, unaccounted.
'Tis sad ... NEXT: the hawk hovered that founded
fresh sedges, grasslands, and deserts idyll,
God in the detail, Red-Tailed Hawk sidle,
Blitzkrieg mob by crows, females sized greater,
social-less wingers, life mono-mater,
dives one hundred twenty miles per hour,
kills owl young BOTH nesting competitor,
Prey spotted one hundred feet in the air,
Their eyesight to man, seven times finer,
Two feet, two pounds, twenty-one years lifespan,
Roadkill, hunting, and human expansion,
Diet: various birds, and small rodents,
Scrub deserts, farm fields, rainforests, woodlands.