Long Hunt Poems
Long Hunt Poems. Below are the most popular long Hunt by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hunt poems by poem length and keyword.
Cold and icy passageway to trudge through.
Ships and warships sailed thru the Bering Strait.
In limbo 'tween two nations, iced, staid too.
When I first set out, for thrill I await.
Where ferocious beasts can hunt and roam thru.
Gray clouds with puffy tops hedge their offspring.
Calmly shifting layers, like a stack shades.
Wet and wild park made of stone tectonics.
Not to mention a beard made of green trees.
I saw two black wolves on Eagle Brook Road.
Mountain trails are plagued with random people.
At the outset, there were rocks and small stones.
There are blooms on the young pink rose jungle.
Here, among green discord of willow vines,
Aspen trees clump joined, stay comfortable
Alaska: home to the famed "midnight sun."
Where kids play and grownups lose track of time.
Reminds them that it is time to wind down.
When it gets quite dark they call it nighttime
Bright toughness is a trait with a tough tone.
The place where the Moon is second fiddle.
Matanuska vale's snooze-fest of a town
while moose and caribou withal trample
Move across the railroad ties one side down.
where the grass is green and soil is ample.
Alaska: home to the famed "midnight sun."
The place where the Moon is second fiddle.
Written: June 21, 2022
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 4 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mark Toney
Checked by: HMC.COM/ 10 Syllables per line
Rhyme: Rhymezone.
Sits content on the ridge cap
of your roof, tweeting, mind fleeting
is happy to find a worm, a bug
cares not for the song
of the nightingale
just as well
you'd place him in a cage
to hear him sing
cares not for the eagles flight
you'd tame him, make him hunt
for you
he is happy to be the sparrow
as that is what he was intended to be
how sad would it be
if there were no sparrows
in the big city marketplace
We humans so get off the track of life
end up derailed, marooned, shipwrecked
but of our own accord
carry too much baggage
What do we care about destiny
so are we caught up in our own
web of consternation
that we are blind to truth
You know that the mighty king,
the hippy, the judge, the baker
and the undertaker, and my dear reader,
even you, and me
we all stem from the same cell, originally
as we were taught at R I, in primary school
Yet all that matters little, cosmically speaking
as the earth spins about itself and about the sun etc.
it does not spin for or around you nor me
but it is so indescribably beautiful
that in the reflection of a puddle
in the street
we can see the moon, the sun, our faces
cathedrals and mountains
regardless of riches or poverty.
Like a sparrow
we ought to accept
what we have
as that is most likely
how it was intended.
For years now, they have survived,
Through deceitful imitations.
Maneuvering within a landscape they
Support, with few limitations.
Yet recently, this crazy fox, seems to be
Running from a pack of legal hounds.
Dodging overgrowth & accountability,
Through some forested, judicial grounds.
This hunt is a lengthy one, stretching
Beyond torn fences and dominion.
As the tireless legal canines progress,
Tailing the scent of lies and opinion.
Ultimately this prey will fall to capture,
Along with its predatory nature, reduced.
While remaining livestock gains some relief,
And the appropriate people, can rule the roost.
Hinterland
It is not a romantic outpost but a place of survival
The landscape, mountains and forests are war zones
where battles are ongoing.
There are no rulebooks here, it is raw capitalism
in action, the strongest always wins.
A moose cow’s newborn must get up ready to run
in minutes after birth predators are on the hunt.
Wolf packs fight over dominance; insects kill insects
In this dance of death, the sparrow eats flies.
The talon of an eagle grips a trout and eat it alive.
When the sleeping bear awakes, pity the salmon.
This cycle of life if broken by man, spells disaster.
Mother Said
My Mother said you need to read
more than Comic books.
I know I’m not the only one.
Some of everything that I read
from my childhood to adult
has been made into movies.
Like Hollywood had nothing better to do
then to follow me around,
every time I Pick up a book.
Someone made a phone call.
What is he reading?
The Avenger’s X-men and Dr. Strange.
My Mother who was an English Major,
said Bobby since you hate English in school,
you'll probably end up being a poet.
But you need to read more than Comic books.
In 1968 I was in the 5th grade
at public school No. 6
when my teacher Mr. Gamble read
the Lord of the Rings to the class.
I surprised my mother
When she caught me reading the Hobbit.
Grow up and I joined the Army,
got sent overseas on hardship tour.
Pulling guard duty, I had a lot time on my hands.
So, I read the books of Tom Clancy.
Hollywood found my reading list.
Hunt for the Red October,
Clear and Present Danger
Patriot Games.
Everything that I read from childhood
to adult has been made into movies.
But I’ve also read books on sensual massage,
And you should know,
they are X-rated movies.
Written: January 22, 2024
_________________________________________
I hear the wild cry as I sleep,
no roaming goats or gulls or sheep.
Tire them out, no trace of dread sweep,
seamless grass is combed by reap.
I heard the humpback cry whale site,
before the day turned into night.
Hunt for krill, girls, and young scouts fight,
boys, singing, as one, of raw dight.
Meadowlarks wave wings in the breeze,
hunt flies in the sun, fly with bees.
Breathe fresh air as lowly birds tease,
tweet, and perch on red tussock trees.
Meadow wrens chirp as streams dry out,
fly high to low till storms cross route.
Mama never told me that I should not get caught
She taught many lessons well, but this one she did not
She never told me that I must lead heat to the chase
Or to be an enigma with an angelic face
Mama never told me that I should keep love in store
Try to be mysterious or risk being a bore
Mama never told me to stay just out of his reach
How to be coy and demure, my Mama didn’t teach
She didn’t say wonder was a big part of the game
That to give a man your heart will make you really tame
Mama didn’t tell me to keep some things locked inside
She didn’t say that when he seeks...I should go and hide
Mama didn’t tell me every man desires to hunt
Or that in speaking to him I must be shy not blunt
She didn’t say the chase is the driving force of man
Or that you must prolong it...just as long as you can
Once he has caught his prey and has feasted at his will
Your body he will discard, another prey to kill
Always try to stay ahead, let your scent lead him on
Let him paw you for a while, and then arise…be gone
A man’s nature is to chase; it’s the air that he breathes
Let him think he’s captured you, give in by small degrees
But let your soul be ever free, don’t you dare get caught
Oh Mama, you didn’t teach me this, Oh mama, you did not!
Eileen Manassian Ghali
“You try to be faithful
And sometimes you're cruel.
You are mine. Then, you leave.
Without you, I can't cope."
Rumi
in the kingdom of love,
nothing is simple,
not even musings,
so tell me:
in your annoyance
do you still think of me
or am i just another
common cliché
in Rumi's philosophies
for cosmic connections,
must we be a
contradiction of circumstance
when our story has been sung
beyond the reach of stars,
so despite the dystopian demons,
i keep hope in the invisible
golden harp strings,
yet to compose our swansong
oh mistress of medusa
in splitting seasons,
when serpents spit venom,
your British horizon soul,
coupled with your
climate change heart,
procreate porcelain patience,
where rhythms of rage
lead to breathless silence,
but i never forget you
it can be tiresome
battling against
ebony lashes from
metaphorical daggers
when vertigo eyes
hunt for their prey
and i wonder if i
was at shooting distance
would you pull the
trigger to rip my
heart like shredding
secretive documents
but despite bonfire breaths,
my samurai spirit has
become immune to
momentary flames,
adopting a mermaid mind,
finding sanctuary in
deep waters until
the last ember dies,
as at the end of each storm,
when rainbows reappear,
i resurface upon your
ivory shores,
for what am i,
but a sea urchin and
you the empress of the sea,
so each time you are cruel,
i wait for the return of
tender gestures,
as i know it is your
veil of vulnerability
you hide from the world,
but in the intricacies of conflict,
i am still the moonlight
glowing upon your ripples,
as i know the code to
your handcrafted heart,
floating in wandering waves,
as you still ignite intimate spiritual
sparks of soothing sensuality,
so never abandon me - forever
in the imperfections of love,
in my abundance of flaws
i know you adore me
internally and externally,
for we are refuge and
safe haven for the broken,
like a masterpiece of
alliterative adjectives
glowing like gems
in topaz textures upon
mookaite mosaics
I know I'm no
Leonardo Di Caprio,
I've never been as
romantic as Romeo,
so love me for
what I am today,
I am not your past
of wasted sunsets,
so ascend with me like
tomorrow's sunrise
Edwin the explorer bunny trotted along on a daily quest
Whispers said, “he is different than the others, quite unlike the rest.”
Handsome though, many a fair bunny maiden had to allow.
“I can see it too,” stated a well-brought-up mama cow.
Edwin was unaware of them, family was not on his mind.
He was exploring new places, a country he needed to find.
They have not all been discovered! He told his friend Pan.
Together they looked for a new country, as hard as you can.
“Has he found one yet?” asked his mother on Easter day.
“Not yet,” said his brother, ‘maybe he is on his way.”
But Edwin was on the hunt and could not slow down or stop.
He spent his whole life looking; probably will until he drops.
As the orange sun dives
below the horizon
The bushman long back
from daily hunt
and rested
Now tells the clan the
legend of the ancient
noon:
'The earth', he says, 'was
not mostly flooded
The earth, indeed, was
once densely wooded
The earth was a beauty,
sublime and quiet
Till man became god and the
earth his diet.
Man built great caves from
rocks, sand and
water
He became a great bird and
flew the clouds
Became a fish and roamed
every ocean
His whispers could go
anywhere all times.
Man became a long snake
that spat out
soot
That ate vast forests and
plucked hills from root
Then air became strangled
with smoke and
died
And soil became poison and
flowers dried.
In anger man turned a ball
of fire
Consumed himself and
unlocked the oceans
This island was once the
highest mount top
The ancient ruins lie
beneath these waters.'
His tale, though old, still has
its cold venom
As all lament over man's
lost kingdom.