Best Trackers Poems
While rambling like a vagabond in a seraphic poetic submersion, in a remote region, witnessed the most captivated sight ever,
a sleeping valley rippled in wild blooms, as sparkling in mystical celestial beam, in the mesas of the clouds, the Dzukou Valley,
a remote dale at the border of Nagaland and Manipur,
in the untrodden tableland of India's Northeast!
The picturesque landscape was ringing with the
once in a lifetime scene of emerald shades of hillocks
paving the way for azure mountaintops,
luminous flowers waving in the winds amongst the tall grasses!
The vale was tweeting and twirling amidst the virgin vegetations enriched with the spectacular sights of verdant forests,
exquisite flora and fauna,
serpentine streams, myriads of panoramic pink
and white wild blooms that dot
the vast caldera of the valley and its' verdant meadows,
alongside the meandering rivers of Dzukou and Japfu,
appeared as the absolute paragon of serenity and tranquility!
Surrounded by the whispering platonic hills,
with numerous colorful flying creatures,
the valley seemed as smuggled over
the dewdrops' fragrant feral fruits,
Oak and Rhododendron forests are a feast to the eyes!
Half way up and any signs of tracks disappear,
and one is just left with wheezing enigmatic bamboo thickets!
Botanists' delight, trackers' paradise, seraph's psyche,
rovers' riddle, is reclining placidly ,
the untrodden earth's lulling lullaby,
in the abode of the divine Lily's
anomalous nature's absolute pamphlet,
a rich biodiversity hotspots
of endemic species, the Dzoku Valley;
an uninhabited unsullied phosphorus valley
Note:
The Dzüko Valley is located at the borders of the states of Nagaland and Manipur in Northeast India. The valley is known for its extremely rich biodiversity, seasonal flowers and flora & fauna. It is situated at an altitude of 2452 m above sea level.
© Silpika Kalita
Each day in Tombstone as tourists watch
The OK Corral gunfight plays out
Reenactments staged by the locals
The Earps always prevail in this bout
Saunter down to the Bird Cage Theater
Now a museum in this Old West town
Actors aren’t needed to play roles
The original cast is still around
Sixteen gunfights caused 26 deaths
Poker players who were dealt bad hands
Tourists still hear the shuffling of cards
And music from the piano man
Gunshots, images captured on tape
Dancehall girls still perform on the stage
Scents of old ale cling to dusty walls
And card game losers express their rage
Doc Holliday and Clanton Brothers
Look on as Wyatt holds all the cards
Virgil, Morgan glare at the McLaurys
Lawmen and outlaws send their regards
Spirits may rise from nearby Boot Hill
To visit the Bird Cage for a while
Delighting modern-day visitors
With a taste of history, Tombstone-style
To learn more about the Bird Cage Theater hauntings and see photos, visit http://www.ghost-
trackers.org/birdcage.htm
Great country rich, land of my birth, that cradled my childhood and taught me of
Worth.'
Land of struggles, and dreamtime lore.'
A country of invention, and of weathers raw.'
Do we have an easy history.? I must answer no.' I owe us; that much at the
least.'
In my mix of emotions, i shall try to so'
Well, to put a relief of our history in this
I'll tell.'
Of a crowns avairice, of some humans in
Chains, others free agents who came to
Make gain'
They came to Australia..with expectations
And dreams, some of great horror' they did
Create scenes.'
Then there were the existing, the Aboriginal
Mobs, living for millenia with their corroberee councils..
Hunters and trackers, survivalists and they paid their costs, leaving newborn infants, in
The open to die.' If the extra life would be too much? This was a part of their bush lives; to oft..
Then there were the guvenors, and officers of the crown, instructed to tame the country.'
With their own views.' As they built the settlements, and kept their convicts
Down.'
There were lashings and hangings, And genocide too.' All tasmanian Native
Peoples wiped out..Its quite true.'the decades advanced..
( The boomerang factor )
From the past collision of cultures, a new country was emerging..Herb Elliot was to become a champion, Lionel Rose Evonne Goolagong,
Shane Gould..We were really flying.'
In the 1960s and 1970s there was an atmosphere of change and hope.' A wish
To be more unified, and a regret.' I tell
No jokes.. I ask all Aussies can we
Go back.? And fix the wrongs we did not
Do.'
Or do we move forward on Australia day.'
And all the days that follow too.? Can we
Be free of trauma.? Yet refer to lessons past.? I advise resume in the ' true blue spirit ' and give the world a blast.' Avoid the
Forigen influencers who want to rake dead
Coals..' Only to enslave us all..!!! Now
get up' be your best; be really bold.!!!
Dragon got excited, just the other day
He wanted to meet his Dragon friend Drag
Way out in that Lone Star Texas State
So he donned his really big Texas boots and hat
Put his courageous penguins right there, on his back
They too, were dressed in their cowboy best, duds N stuff
Then low and behold, my sweet little idiot, really did take off
To find Walker Texas Ranger, he said, and without me along
I was left there, staring, cause he didn’t invite me, awe Gee come on!!
Now I’d have to chase him in our really fast 50’s car that goes 22mph
But only to the edge of town, for he is a 3 year old baby dragon, after all
Yep, at that age, his body is big and his wings are small!
Yeah! It’s true. Don’t you know. Now, imagine the trouble he’s into!
Luckily he missed the house and barn, but nose-dived into the snow
Yep, the drift 4 stories tall! Thought we’d be searching there, for days
But out, from far below, came a mighty roar, from VERY deep within
Seems he didn’t like so much snow in his Widdle Baby Face and skin!
I’m laughing here, (again) Folks, but with that we knew where to begin.
It took the Fireman, Policemen, Butcher, Baker, and Candlestick Maker…
To finally get him out, fortunately, we have put trackers on the penguins
Yep, that helped to get THEM out. Isn’t technology marvelous? I say!
HEY! LITTLE penguins, BIG snow! Even you can figure THAT one out!
Seems their new necklaces with trackers, were perfect in this much snow
Yep! When we pulled Dragon out, his fire was (again) puffing snow!
The Trolls counted penguin toes to make sure we had them all.
Hey, don’t ask! Simply remember that they are Trolls, so no need to ask…
We made it home by nightfall and tucked all our tired little babies in to bed
Just so you know… Sorry Drag… The visit will have to wait, for a while
But perhaps we can try (again) next Fall, when the snows are melted.
Some more… Well… At least we can hope!
Trackers follow the animals,
herd them towards the waiting guns.
Big money paid by lazy hunters
who just want some trophies.
Not for them the slog through bush
they want an easy kill.
A bit or two taken to hang on walls
meat left where they fell.
Uncaring if they are endangered
they drink their beers in the hides.
Not wanting to get dirty or sweaty
they picnic on delicacies and wine.
Bodies of the slain beasts pile up
to be dragged away by scavengers.
While the men toast each other
proud of the day's work.
Tomorrow it will all be repeated
who I ask are the real beasts here?
Some persons wanted Him to be killed
Others planned to tie Him up or to expel
Plans of polytheists of Ka’bah, He was revealed
He moved to Medina, with a mission to propel
Besiegers followed Him, to track
Tracking led them unto a cave
Searched with vengeance, to unleash a brutal attack
It was God’s unyielding kindness that came to save
Surprising to see was a spider’s web, engulfing the entrance
Cave’s entrance was also covered by an acacia tree
And a pigeon with eggs over her nest, in penance
All happened at once, as per Allah’s decree
Cave gave impression, as if never was visited by anyone
And also that none could have ever entered inside
Thus trackers driven to disregard the holy cave and gone
Though the Holy Prophet Muhammad stayed with aide
From the imminent danger, He was just a wall away
With Him withstood was the will of the ultimate
Later led to His landmark migration, on Allah’s way
From Mecca to Medina, with an assignment to actuate
Blessings put Him as the Prophet of God, universally
His move to Medina marks the beginning of Islamic calendar
He was blessed to found the Islam religion, immortally
In the Islamic theology, there is none to stand with Him at par
He is the ever ‘Glorified one’
Being the ‘chosen one’ He got God’s intimacy
With ‘words of the God’ He compiled the Holy Qur’an
In the everyday Islamic life, He is the living legacy
Fate of any person shall surely change
Like an ordinary merchant becoming ‘Apostle of the God’
Absolutely beyond an imaginable range
All happened as God gave His nod!
The mentioned miracles are not magic
They confirm how abundant was His blessing!
None can contest this, using logic
As His mission too succeeded beyond guessing!
This confirms, everything stays at God’s will
Anything can happen if God is pleased to destine
God is beyond scientific drill
Also with logic,you can’t discover the divine
Rather belief and faith promotes you to reach
Steady surrender to Him shows the path
Life of Prophet Muhammad, leads to teach
Of course! This is a time tested truth!
Above Poem is adapted from the eBook "BIRD OF PARADISE AND OTHER POEMS" by Mr.V.MUTHU MANICKAM. Copyrights reserved.
A ruthless pirate called Albert McSheel
Got caught and offered his captors a deal
A framed map of his treasure
His parrot for good measure
And a promise to never again steal.
A month later he was back on the sea
He had lied and was robbing ruthlessly
And while McSheel was asleep
Two hidden trackers did beep
A drone soon put an end to his crime spree.
Written on 10th April 2019
For Pirate Themed Limerick Poetry Contest.
Sponsored by Tania Kitchin.
Both stanzas 10/10/7/7/10.
Woken up angry
Discontent
Woke up on the wrong side of bed
Couldn’t find the lil expensive box
I hold in my hand
It brings me music
It brings me sound
So angry I couldn’t find it
So angry it wasn’t around
This lil expensive box
I hold in my hand
We are attached
Like blood in my veins
Like oxygen
In the air I breathe
It makes me so connected
Dings and rings when strangers like my status
Or my pictures they have glanced at
This lil expensive box
I hold in my hand
I cant put it down
Me and this lil box have become one
I cant stop staring at it
Cant stop scrolling up and down
It has me under a trance
Has me under its spell
This lil expensive box
I hold in my hand
Has made me disconnected and alone
This lil expensive box
Isn’t a gift
Its addiction
In a shell
I cant look up anymore
I must look down
This lil expensive box
I hold in my hand
Has taken over my life
Its disconnected
A face to face connection
Relationships are under attack
With family n friends
With time not spent wisely
With love not given
With moments gone
Never to come back
As I sit here scrolling
Till the screen goes black
Kale Brereton
https://www.nytimes.com/2019/04/27/technology/apple-screen-time-trackers.html
Www.thefreethinkinghuman.com
Twitter; @thefreethinkin5
that delightfully delicate desert rose,
that same alluring adenium multiflorum bearing the wondrous pinkish-fuchsia petals & white outlining angles
brings with it the death-sap used by hunters in africa,
that which in a barrage of many poison soaked arrows
will slowly kill a giraffe as it tries so desperately to
get away from its
trackers---
as the magnificent animal
of gorgeous sepia, sienna, amber & saffron
treads closer to the ground with every step
as the cardiac glycosides fill its body through its bloodstream at an extreme
toxic
level,
our minds run rampant with horror
our hearts gush red with a disgustingly hypocritical sense of
“compassion” which
stares at us back from the mirror of
time,
laughing at our own self-corruption,
as orwell in shooting his elephant,
fleeing the body before it had actually passed,
not able to watch what he himself had caused the death of,
hearing only later that it took the beautiful creature
a half hour to die---
with this same thirst for beauty,
we ourselves approach the objects which operate with a thin skin
holding a vat of toxin within themselves
ready to explode
the moment we ingest them physically, metaphorically or whatever you claim to be
“spiritually,”
if you believe in such idiocy---
regardless,
we all pay the price,
walking for hours, maybe days
in the desert &
choking,
while our fellow humans,
the trackers, follow,
like the grim reaper’s own paparazzi
ready to report back
as to how our whole story played out,
sickly & stupid as we were,
seeking sweet nectar where there wasn’t even a taste &
justifiably suffering the
consequences.
Brian The Veggie Lion
The trackers all dressed in their safari suits
Trekked over plains in their safari boots
In search of an animal that was called Brian
A statuesque beast in the shape of a lion
Skin prickling chills as they sensed he was near
But the park ranger said there was nothing to fear
For Brian the lion had delicate guts
He's now on a diet of pulses and nuts
No need to be scared, no need to be quiet
For Brian is now on a strict vegan diet
As they too were vegan and never ate meat
They made it their mission this lion to greet
For many a day they sought this strange lion
They knew he was close but they couldn't find Brian
At first they were wary that no-one was armed
But Brian was vegan, they wouldn't be harmed
Suddenly, stood there before them was Brian
A truly enormous, formidable lion
He padded around them on monstrous paws
Saliva was dribbling from slavering jaws
Brian then snarled, ‘We get few vegans here,
In fact you're the first I've encountered this year’
He grinned as he muttered, ‘I'm so pleased to meet you,
It's time for my lunch, I'll just have to eat you.’
The trackers all laughed and said, ‘Go on then, try it,
We know all about your strict vegan diet.’
Brian just growled and then got rather vicious
And later he slept...
Vegans... delicious!
He goes slowly, a turtle in motion
Goes all day long, never says a word
The desert sand is dry and hot, it tells the tale
They are his problem, finding them is his solution
The bird and the breeze plays his song, nothing else can be heard
A sip of water and he is back on their trail
Follows the tracks made by their feet, he can smell their scent
Their tracks tell the story, he know if they are moving fast or slow
The Sun and time are on his side, their ball and chain
His thoughts are miles ahead, he knows where they went
Back packs filled with drugs are heavy, their tracks will show
No food and water, they are feeling hunger's pain
They are walking in circles, seeing an oasis on the horizon
He takes a sip form his canteen, it won't be long for him to wait
The Sun is hot and high, the buzzards circle over head
He know that they will see tomorrow's dawn
No sense of direction, for them it is to late
He will find their bones, but they will be dead
It is the same old story, over and over again
A fish out of water trying to swim in a desert land
Their tracks tell the tale, and that is all they leave behind
The tracker's job is done, but really he did not win
Greed got in their eyes, dying is all they understand
In the world's largest cemetery, for history to find
Many illegal aliens coming over are from Central America, in the jungles. They know
nothing or what it can do. Some are forced to mule drugs, not giving them any food
or water on their journey...telling them that Chicago is just over the hill. Then the
trackers or buzzards come to pick their bones and salvage the drugs left behind?
of the desert
We want to heal-
scab stealers wont allows us too
sneaking up on us-
giving us new busy work
side trackers –
killing us
the only hope we had left
invested in our progeny.
progenitors
Our children become our ancestors
Arrested -
Denied freedom.
assaulted,
Degrading us our offspring.
They make examples out of noble men.
Leaders not knowing what day will
be their personal doomsday while
They recite a healing prayer on balconies
Thinking “is this my end”.
"As they risk healing folks in large crowds with
un-trusted friends watching their backs
Let me get these words in As
We begin to heal from
the power of love.
These "scab thieves’ who snatch
scabs off the old wounds.
Create and open new wounds,
As they dare us to heal.
We fall to the ground.
as the targets keep
Dropping they
Kill the mighty to
Control the weak.
We are angry -No time to heal -
Angry People
Bopping ignorant
Pop ups- Bobble heads, popping up
like bobble heads at a carnival.
We needed the big black men-
who soon after that
Perplexed us
Who were they that stood
on Hunter street?
In front of Paschal Brothers
Over near "Don Clendenin’s"
surrendering
Waving White hankies
at tricks and enemies
We are bleeding now...
The scab makers are winning
where and from wince –
Do they come from?
or go to?
Wall Street or colleges-
White collar preppies-
promoting separate causes.
We still chant
Free Mandela
“we loved him too
They all were gone
to the grave or to prison.
Many wounds open
blood everywhere.
Perplexed.
Things fall apart again in...2013
2013 is here.
We are still with open wounds
Remember now wonder
can we heal if they?
keep re-opening our wounds.
My tolerance is no more for
nincompoops and
Poot—butts, chastising
Empresses and Kings.
Knowing nothing....
While pulling off scabs
Who am I, if I lose focus?
There will be no us-
So, I relent,
Leaving them where
they are - or at least
where I found them!
I really feel that until I die
I have a connection to someone’s
future I have wounds to heal.
I must remember-
“I cannot get angry for you”,
Lest I get stuck fighting your battle.
“I will get angry with you”
I will fight aside of you.
Byron McGovern (true story 1900)
At Denowan near Goodooga,
lived Mc Govern so they say,
At a Church of England mission,
Aubrey lived there anyway,
now Byron McGovern got arrested,
Black Trackers they said sure,
in jail he was invested,
his tracks came to the door,
the murderer was cunning,
tiptoed to Byrons' camp,
pulled on Byrons' muddy boots,
tiptoe running, in his dance,
Frog Morton he had no chance,
foul murder it was done,
axed to death, the Emus wept,
bad signatures on the cheque book, one,
Byron sidestepped the gallows,
no death for murder him,
the forgers face was sallow,
slip knot got tight and grim,
and the corpse did swing a swing,
and justice came ashore,
some stupid bloody ding a ling ,
got his karma bloody sure....
Don Johnson
TRACKER
A Bushman Tracker knows the way to follow horses here...every hoof is different
He’ll find the track one hoof placed wrong........all have different tracks
And remember it a year!.........If he is an Aussie BushmanTracker
He’d know the colour of the horse
By the hair left on the ground
They roll every day of course
Hair left in the rolling mound
An earmark seen on a beast
Is also logged the same
Remembered on a cow or sheep
If the owner comes to claim
The sun in the down under ……remember if you went south, how far back
The northern sky it sits…….notice when you went west
Watch it never make a blunder…..to find your way, back track
Never lost remember it…..some Trackers pass this test….
Don Johnson
Yes I started out life as a Drover with 1000 head of cattle me and my Dad.
I was 10 when I rode 40 miles to join the herd on the Bollon Stock Route.
Watch the sun and know which way you travel and you will be never lost
WARNING, this may not be to your taste about hunting paedophiles and keeping kids safe,,
we are hunters from around the world,
looking out for our boys and girls,
keeping them safe when there on line,
trying to protect them all of the time,
there is admins and decoys and trackers to,
these groups look out for you,
the job is hard but very safe,
they chase the paedophiles to keep kids safe,
predators come in all shapes and forms,
they try entice young girls and boys,
taking time they lour kids in,
that,s when the much starts to begin,
the decoys do a very hard job,
there on line punting up with this lot,
predators think there a kids,
that,s the start when hunting begins,
smutty talk and being crude,
no child should Indore to what they do,
the predators also say there a child,
trying to be friends for a while,
they the paedophiles start to making there move,
this is the things they start to do,
but there really not very smart,
as the decoys well know that,
the teams gather what information they can,
this is where it takes time,
getting everything ready to sort them out,
then they chase them hunting them out,
with all the teams that work this way,
keeping kids safe today,
these smutty talks and filthy chats,
all the evidence gathered as much as they can,
then the teams phone the police,
but being calm and keep the piece,
showing on videos to make parents aware,
that these people might be near,
going to court on a set date,
getting the paedophile sent away,
this is all the team wants,
keeping kids safe from this evil lot,
why do they do it we never understand,
loads of paedophiles are also married men,
they have kids of there own,
when the teams confront them the groomers loose the lot,
hope you may read this and understand,
checking kids devices to keep a safe hand,
the teams all do there very best,
to make paedophiles life,s come to an end,
with them all being in jail,
this is why we can not fail,
praise the teams on what they do,
as there the teams looking out for you,,,,