Have you met Harvey, the Himalayan bar-headed goose?
He was around here yesterday, fancy-free, on the loose
he is a high flyer like the African griffon bird
Can zoom straight up for hours, on my word
They both can glide to a summit peak of a mountain top
maybe past cirrus clouds, for they do not stop
if you see him, please let me know
we have a telegram for him down below
Categories:
griffon, animal,
Form: Rhyme
Splashing, thrashing, wetly crashing
rages the rolling sea,
like a dying serpent swirled
in waves of misery!
Through stormy gales and black of night,
these sailors from afar
seek out the dim, faint, speckled glow
of heaven's Compass Star.
But howling, howling, madly scowling
swells the deadly squall
with spite and ire in its briny veins
to damn them—damn them all!
So far away from home and hearth
their ship has sailed the seas;
its men seen sights of boon wonders
with deft and seafaring ease.
Trapped by the foaming, deadly squall;
the wrath of the ocean
rocks their masts and strikes at their hull
like Neptune’s winged griffon.
Gnarling, gnarling, viciously snarling
the squall’s stormy tempests
strike and savagely beat at the
ship’s wooden bow and breasts.
Alas! Alas! All is now lost
as soul after drowning soul
lose hope, panic, and then perish
with HMS The Merry Troll!
The stormy tempests of the squall
sink, swallow, and devour
up all without rue or ruth: so scorn
not the squall's wrathful power!
Categories:
griffon, adventure, allegory, imagination, nature,
Form: I do not know?
Willy is a Brussels Griffon breed
with a distinctive mustache and beard.
And he will steal your heart; guaranteed,
because he looks so lovably weird.
A chivalrous soul like knights of old,
Willy lives life with vigor and style.
And a jester with a heart of gold,
he survives on little more than guile.
The neighborhood's his private domain
a happy place where worries are nil.
And yet, city streets are paved with pain
and unforeseen dangers lurk there still.
A genuine source of ready wit,
as an artist, he favors abstract.
And born with a will not prone to quit,
modesty keeps his ego intact.
His wagging tail always sparks a smile,
he's a dynamo in constant flight.
And eager to go that extra mile,
he loves to play, and he likes to bite.
(Quatrain)
4/21/2015
01/28/2020
Categories:
griffon, cute love, dog, feelings,
Form: Quatrain
Sky Fight
What makes the game even more interesting is that you can never win.
Or if you know you’ll lose from the start and you still enter the game, to lose.
As a student of air warfare, never ever fight the enemy on their rules.
But what happens if you do?
There’s a gothic saying...
‘Doing the wrong thing for the right reasons...’
Goth or no Goth, those words are the real deal.
Your comment reminds me of a crazy
but fascinating dog fight of an English Electric Lighting jet fighter
and a late Mark Griffon engine Spitfire, maybe Mk24.
Was in the late 50s.
Spit could never win even tho it could do 450mph level flight and dive past 600mph. Lightning was 1500mph jet.
The Spit could out turn the jet.
Jet could climb from below, hit from above, high speed slash attack.
You get the idea.
Yet they did this fight.
Shame both weren’t armed...
The Lightning pilot had a bang seat,
the Spit pilot a chute...
Categories:
griffon, flying, history, technology,
Form: Free verse
AS thy noble corona dilates,
Shucks back its great circle, let
Thy golden mean drip power
Onto the beast whose blameless flesh
Screams humped over,
Lathered like the Levin cracked sky
From whose seed was born
An infant God
Remind me Oh! Sultana
Whose spirit lifts my brow, and
Whose bright milk chisels
My livered throat, bloated
and waiting to yield to yet
Another salute.
I cry for Avalon, and those
Ancient borders I once possessed
Oh! Avalon, a composition for the carillon,
Let your chronicles forget me not.
Let your long drawn spell
Whisper me awash, gilded
Only by the mighty Griffon
fluent in the air, lord of sky,
Address my reproach my gentle God
Gift me unremitting paradise.
Categories:
griffon, allegory, me, me,
Form: Free verse