bats in a dark cave
hanging upside down resting
waiting for the night
It’s a constant battle
But the enemy can’t be seen
The mirror reflects the struggle within
Yet to the outside world
Nothing to see here.
Awareness and pain
Hand in hand as they, like a hunter
Stalking its prey
Target their prize.
Tricked mind..
Pain? Not pain?
Relief is short, the reality of a world without
Rather than the turmoil within.
Cell on cell the fight never stops
As each second the self loathing
My physical body its own worst enemy
As the autoimmune diseases
hunt in their packs.
Yet filled, to fully brighten
Both friends' smiles, golden
Jaded, and all of nine
With drain's leant in eye
Deeper still for wonders
As treasure hunters
Down on through whose gaping
Recess, sea cave's, plashed.
Hollow Earth, on them flashed?
Which sound did soon die!
I am the swan
with a broken wing —
Not knowing where
my old flock has gone.
I drift now amidst
embracing lilies, who
Have long and dearly kept
my pleas for close company…
Thus, whenever hunters near,
The lilies ask along with me,
If
Angels still come
To wipe away
Tears of tragedy?
(c) sally eslinger 2/2025
You cannot exist unless you have a gun
This is the Midwest
You might want to kill a deer
Or an enemy
Or an enemy’s kin
Or an annoying grouse
Get your gun
Let’s practice shooting
We can shoot out windows
Or doors
Or people’s cars
This is the Midwest, we will be forgiven
Everyone has a gun
We all wanted to be sheriffs back in the day
No one will worry or call us thugs
We will be “good old boys”
Petted and loved,
Admired for our viciousness
There is a squirrel
Kill that.
You have been gone for a while
Leaving a void of emptiness
Difficult to fill and contend with
All around me your presence looms large
Your beautiful face lulls me to sleep nightly
I see you every morning as I wake up
Your sumptuous lips whisper into my ear
Courageous words of determination
To keep hunters of destiny at bay
When trapped in the midst of danger in the day
Your angelic presence rescues me from the fray
And wherever I go you are sure to follow
Where then do I go from your presence my love?
No where my darling
For you are my guardian Angel
Always close to me and ready for battle!
(A sad lone voice whispers)
My old love
Loved shaking her crow blacked hair
As old daydreams tumbled around her
Like autumn leaves in the air
On any given day or night
Dreams of divinity
Of God and light
Like the first thing you see when you close your eyes at night
Temporal spaces filled with familiar faces
Crooning like nameless mockingbirds
Under a watchful moon
Dreams of us as a pair
Regale my eyes with surreal memories of us
Everywhere I now look since
God closed that Crimson Book
Us entwined at sea
Surrounded by floating red roses as seagulls watched
Laughing like playful innocent school children
Free from all fears and good behaviour
But now the
Ancient Ones have called at midnight to remind me
“Those who once laid entwined in their sea as their seagulls watched
Will soon get a visit
From The Midnight Hunters from The Black and Blue Lodge”
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
I am persecuted
with no compassion,
here, there and everywhere,
I have no home anymore.
Wherever I go I'm a nuisance,
I just try to find my way
here, where all the beings
belong to.
You, humans are taken
all my habitats,
my everything from a breath.
I am the bad when I take
food for surviving,
but you are a hero killing
just for fun.
I am the Iberian wolf,
the one doesn't feel
like howling to the moon.
A murderer under
the farmers' eyes,
a fighter in the woods
without life.
Easy to blame me
for all the disasters
made by yourselves.
Hunt me until I'm extinct,
after all, I have not much
left to fight for.
Something, dear human,
we have in common,
fights and wars
for survival in lands
without respect, nor principles.
Kill me with your reasons,
you have the best guns,
I will kill your sheep,
I only have fangs.
Endanger I am,
so you will be,
a common life
we have to howl for.
The deep red
Blended with the flowing stream
A shallow pink memory
The plunging osprey
and the wading blue heron
hunters of the sea
ducks southbound
on central flyway
hunters wait
Where do they come from?
Where do they go?
Why do they stay there?
Like a statue on show.
Some can be small
Some can be big.
Masterful weavers,
Hunters and creepers.
Some will move slowly
Some will move fast.
Eight legged creatures
With peculiar features.
They will all scurry
When in a hurry.
I'm always wary
Coz spiders are scary.
Invading my space
With beds of white lace.
High nervous tension
Preparing eviction.
Eight beady eyes staring
It's eight legs preparing.
We're flight or fight ready
My legs are like jelly.
They give me a fright
And some will bite.
Love them I don't
But harm them I won't.
Written 31.08.22
Buzzards are circling, hawks are screaming,
in the backyard crows are tearing into a dead pigeon.
Songbirds are not singing
but watch silently from the hedgerow.
This is a day for the predator's,
a black cat slinks through the trees
looking for a free-range lunch.
As a lad I used to shoot small birds
with a pellet gun,
now I shiver in the noon day sun,
hoping that the claws and razor beaks
will fade away to a place
where children never kill for thrills.
A land where pigeons fly unmolested -
undigested.
Kitty Cats inhabit the space between day, and night
guarding the twilight from the unknown Dark.
Seeking out nooks and crevices,
they stalk,
lurking at the peripheries of trees.
Surrounded by numerous unseen creatures, their graceful frames greet the dimly-lit dawn.
Avoiding the inevitable waning of the shadows, they retreat
with green, prismed eyes narrowing, half-awake, half-
asleep, to a corner of the windowsill.
Crouching behind the curtain’s edge, they brace themselves one last time,
in never ending pursuit of the “Other”.
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