Without food
Means to change station
As go the dying poor in document
So must I
The forager
Origin of contempt
Translation of bureaucrat
My headaches not for information
This and this alone
Finds the civilized item
Creating civilizations
Spaceman
Sour Apple Ice
A hand me down
From a news friend
On our street
Whom possessed the capacity
Of a bad gateway?
A spacemare lands her bright
Simplicity and amaze
Without charge
Her lounge and a courtships ending
Where and how does a man resemble
His fortune after beings are conquered?
The post of California
In lost postage
Where has liberty wronged?
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Hello Poetry
LRH11ZY1
bird feeder pole snapped in two
suet cakes gone-border collies barking
large furry forager departed- sated
A lonely scarecrow in the meadow
never stopped a forager
So when the sun shined down on them
myriad wildflowers adored her
I am the hawk, the falcon, the eagle
circling the skies, swooping with the winds
that roar through gold and carmine canyons.
I soar to hunt, to pursue, to feed.
Gliding on ageless currents of thermal energies
exploding through the clouds,
stooping to the field, the sea, the desert.
I have the strength, the will, the fortitude
of the ages beside, and within, my being
sharpening my insight, my vision,
calling me to the feeding grounds.
I am the caveman, the forager, the hunter
of all within my penetrating sight.
Succumb to my mighty beak and talons.
I want to taste the new ruffled orange mushrooms Lilly Watt said.
they are known as “chicken of the woods” on oak trees not dead.
shaggy ink caps were jealous, as were bioluminescent blues.
faerie mushrooms danced a jig, found in clumps of two times twos.
foragers from several places headed back outside to hunt the caps
acorn syrup is tasty also said a known forager, Chef Ultra Naps.
faeries scattered as their homes were stuffed into gunny sacks.
said one. Some of these are poison; do they have their facts?
Imagine me the creature in broad daylight
with green metallic crest
as I flaunt a copper plumage wild and free
whilst feathering my nest
native of the Himalayan range I scale
the sun drenched mountain peaks
the zoom and swoop spirit I encapsulate
when skimming gold vein creaks
I dwell on red oak conifers or alpine
meads bound by rock-strewn ware
pale blue eye patch forager whose curved bill dig
unearths a snow crust fare
coruscating migrant over altitudes
whose bone chill turf I fly
rooster among canopies I hatch my brood
with poignant shrubland cry.
I am a Bird - Personification
Tania Kitchin Sponsor
Date submitted 26th July 2020
The moveable feast
Free food for the forager
Weeds for the foolish
Nettles that sting you
are nettles that can feed you
Praise the forest fare
Flowers to fauna
mother nature’s larders full
of flavoursome treats
Free to the finder
fare fit for a king or queen
three cheers for free food.
UTOPIA
Land of endless time
Dreams of infinite range
Sweet, succulent, fine
A city without age
UTOPIA
Shinning in expansive glory
A lighthouse for weary souls,
Rid of war’s flashing gory,
A home without Holes.
UTOPI
An Eden in splendor
This Heaven on earth
Void of division of gender,
Class, race; brimming with mirth.
UTOP
A delicate bubble of perfection
God’s greatest intention
Popped by the hand of his creation
Guarded, leaving man without direction.
UTO
This is the story of the beginning
The account of the conVict’s Fall
For we slipped on soap in our sinning,
Our stride reduced to a crawl.
UT
Out of the Soap-maker’s hand
Comes the perfect Man.
A rEflection of that once-wondrous perfection
Now glorified in majestic Resurrection.
U
Bringing Heaven into hearts
And saving the spirit of the lonely voyager,
Calling all man, from every part,
Every bubble-bursting forager:
Now, Come to Me, the Savior;
I redeem you from your failure.
Come to Me, the Prince of Peace;
Be free from hellish wandering.
UTOPIA->HEAVEN
Death is Not the Living’s Fear
Is there life before the dying
Or preparation for the end?
Solitary gauntlet dash
Predetermined dust and ash?
Leveraged buyout of a soul
Darkened light of final hole.
Belief stripped naked in a field
No saintly symbols as a shield.
Who am I at core of me
Devoid of worldly shell they see?
Stow away or voyager
Hunter or death’s forager.
Pawn of heartless fingered fate
Knight full charging conquered gate.
Death is not the living’s fear
it’s living makes the death seem near.
2010
Idolized by pharaohs, monarchs and kings;
Bird of the wetlands, marshes and swamps.
Interesting forager with long bill and stilted long legs;
Sacred icon of the dynasties of yore.
I am jumping on a trampoline doing a waltz of wrapping nothing
and an explanation will come handy to explain the I do not care
the christmas tree of like better the thanks giving not involving
but a full moon today the only one sane among the crazy not chopping a tree
tell you the sky won't remember you with shitty to empty your bank for thee
as hardly religious nonetheless the sky a mystery of bliss of not shopping a bulb
for in spring forward the iris will grow the miracle and not the blink of a bill
but the amaze of birds chirping and late coming was not the first in a garden
and soon the forager will eat a bliss of wild leeks and not forget the fiddle fern
a flower I am not
a contest I do not enter
I am a free spirit to share the world
of knowledge and a life for a moment
the wrench of eyes dropping tears
a nose to smell the wonder of bloom
as the tree soon to convey the memories of linden and teas
I walk the streets
the white narcissus of my teens past will bring me to a field long gone in the mountains of Andorra
an edelweiss to mix with your champagne
a flower wall I do not dance to your rhythms but my own
a voice to tell nothing but ears listening to operas my heart is full
the dandelion a miracle of generosity as the forager need to eat with the season.
The things we bury within our mind
like a ravenous forager returning a find
all the cracks between our multiple side
along with the secrets we try to hide
drowning in illusory shames false tide
respectability can be a curse
not being yourself is even worse
to live a life that's not your choosing
neglected in love and left for boozing
rather ignored than regular bruising
we all get just one short life at a time
before our return to the eternal sublime
just being yourself, enough mountain to climb
can't lose yourself forever, in wondrous rhyme
thoughts can have a solitary hold
so take my hand, let's run, be bold
I want to show you Love before death or old
forget instructions, or father might scold
we dream a story that deserves to be told
the warmth I feel, just knowing you're there
all that's against us, I'm tearing my hair
your hand I desire, much more than air
see, a storm always subsides, weather turns out fair
so please kindly relinquish, any pent up despair
you can't let go of hope or optimism
living by someone else's mannerism
Otherwise, you have lived your life inside a prison,
forced to live inside a prism!
©John-Ovan.P.Hull
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