There once was an elk a lonely elk
not a wapiti or moose
who had no friends not even a whelk
so he went in search the silly goose
hoping for the milk
of elkish kindness
with another of his ilk
tho' he did go looking high and low
roaming all around in the snow
sad to say at the end of the day
no others there were to be found
and what's more seeking far and near
he saw not even a caribou
no one who'd whisper in his ear
so no he never knew
he was the only elk in the zoo
Elk troll man slithers out of the crevices of the cave
the evening feels his emotions and responds accordingly
Slinking along the corridor of red canyon’s edges
We wise ones ignore him, for it is his fervent wish to be invisible
Sure, we see him but none of us speak of it, our tongues silent
Respecting his wishes, and fearing Elk troll man’s wrath
his lightning reflexes to be feared
I rise up early to breathe the crisp clean air
of winds blowing 'cross the grass wondrous and fair
Across the valley the mountains rise up high
jagged purple peaks piercing the azure sky
Eagles soar 'cross the sun looking for a meal
it's as close to God as any man might feel
Seeing new calves breathing their first taste of spring
on limp legs, to its mother a young foal clings
Out in the grass a meadowlark courts its mate
with a song so sweet that it makes my heart ache
The bugling of elks welcome the morning light
at the foot of the ridge somewhere out of site
Across my front yard nature is at its best
here on my front porch I'd love to sit and rest
But cattle are crying, they need attending
winter was hard so there's fences need mending
I hoist my coffee in a toast to the hand
that made me a part of his glorious plan
So I'll take a moment, contemplate and pray
On the ranch, Sunday is just another day
fierce fire-elk transforms into a skeletal elk during a forest fire
the few who have seen her, recognize her powers through prophecy
These storytellers do not last long, for they are not forest fire survivors
if you get caught in the woods during an inferno, beware of the fire-elk.
elk leaf woman was inapproachable
black forest was fearful of her abilities and talents
her all-seeing ways had been predicted long before she arrived
we knew of her eons before she appeared at the edge of the oaks
we stayed our distance, even the rabbits and the fox
her energy traveled ahead of her in the form of an aura
we felt her parting the brambles, and we scattered
most of us hid, terrified of her capabilities
Deer Elk Princess was a flower in the woods
With her turquoise dresses, she flashed beauty
The hickory and elms thought she was too jazzy
But the oaks felt her mystical essence
They knew the deer would be attracted to her
Her gorgeousness did not deter them
For deer are empathetic, sensitive creatures
Like the demure, dainty, delightful Deer Elk Princess
An antelope, a reindeer and an elk walked into a bar.
Which bar?
The lion stared at his friend. “Does it matter?”
“It does to me.”
“Bar Sheeba Weebalah.”
The other lion nods.
“The antelope orders a beer. the reindeer orders a whiskey sour.”
The other lion pretends to laugh, hoping this will be the end of the story.
“Not the punchline yet,” the other lion warns him.
“Then I walk into the bar and I order an antelope, a reindeer and an elk.”
The other lion howls with laughter.
Not understanding, but wanting to please the alpha lion.
eleven engrossed esteemed Eastern elves elected Evie, eligible electric elk. Embracing her enthusiastic, energetically evasive elusiveness, enabling enchantment to engage, enhance and excite extra enthusiastic electoralelk endorsement to electrify elfish election.
I sensed I was being watched by an animal.
Human? Probably not; something baser.
Perhaps a rabbit, a rodent or a bird of some sort.
This is the Yukon, if it is something white, it will be difficult to spy.
I stay silent, in one place, slowly moving my head, watching.
Hoping it is not a polar bear; they have huge paws and teeth.
I see the animal’s breath before he appears from a thicket.
A moose elk, apparently unafraid. I take out my camera.
Knowing there is probably one chance.
I am right.
My boy and I hung over the Elk Rapids dam railing
Shirtless
With lines swung in the churning water
The iron hum of turbines rattling through our elbows
He lands a nice Crappie
And as he rescues the bass
He looks not at his dad
Or the helpless fish staring up in horror
But watches to see if the old stern man
Fishing on the other end of the dam
Cigar crowbarred to the crease of his mouth
Might take a look
But no
He doesn’t as much glance over
To see the catch by my long-haired CEO
With his 20,000 Instagram followers
And when we step past the guy
And over his pole and tackle box
Not even then
Does he grunt nice fish nor nod good day
His leeches keeps him free of snags
That much is true of his local secrets
But we used worms and had a big day.
Elk
slowly walk
grazing off open paths
a distant bugling call
Hunter
hunkered down, still
open sight
9/20/2020
A rabbit an elk and a snowman walked into a bar.
I stared at this neonate.
Did eight month olds talk?
No wait. He is nine months old right?
I check the calendar.
Nine months going on ten.
My first time at babysitting him.
The bartender says.
I run to get a pencil to write this down.
He gurgles at me.
Loud gas bubble pops
I get out my phone to videotape him.
Go ahead, I say.
The door opens. His parents have returned.
His mouth slams shut.
Loud giggle.
You are diabolical I say.
A bad baby.
He laughs himself silly.
It had been years since the seasons changed
Then the Monarch butterflies
Shook from a blue sky in July
Like a box of colored confetti
Re-appeared a miracle atop the sticky meadows
And the day before was so hot
That on my morning walk
I found tree frogs glued to the pavement
In mid-hop
Paralyzed with eyes looking up
Clay knickknacks belonging to a shelf
In an Elk Rapids gift shop
People around here are buried in their graves
Sitting up
To stare out forever upon Torch Lake
Tombstones angled against the hills
Last ever to see
The blue of this Earth
The lake of sunsets
The mirror that shows us all
Who we turned out to be.
I saw
elk frozen
in lake. Birds pecked
out his nostrils and eyes…
Winter.
05.05.2019
Writing Challenge 1, May 2019 - Cinqku- Poetry Contest
Dear Heart
A man in a black suit, and cane drawn
wandering above the sea of fog
wildlife, mountains, lakes, and bog
Untroubled Heaven in his eyes for the moment
fields of green, awaken refreshed at dawn
where salmon runs the rivers blue to spawn
where shaggy mane elks labor their spring calves
black-tailed and mule deer birth their newborn
a habitat full of wildlife species that are born
1/5/2019
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