Long Incisors Poems
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From the Elephant's diary
You find me giantly like Gulliver, huge and obese
but I met my doc, he said take it with ease....
for you big is more beautiful so eat more cheese
I am on my diet of sugarcane juice,
lush green grass n' tons of bamboos
Mammoth was my forefather not anymore seen
Now I know being gigantic is in my genes
Instructor at the gym shooed me away
for I broke his treadmill with my single step I say
We love to have our bath in nature's pool
We dabble water with our trunk till we are all cool
A relaxing shower for all friends after hectic schedule!
In our forest club, trophy for best music band,
we won last week for our trumpet troupe!
Large is our family my Jumbo uncle says,
Old and wise he is in our tuskers' herd
He says our eyes are small, to see
only little good left in this big bad world
And our ears are large to fan away
the gossips and bad we hear
Thick skin we do have so called pachyderms
to shrug off the hurling vices of the woods
but we have a large heart to spread
loads of love to all species widespread
In history, we have a place reserved
for in wars and royal processions,
we were used as pride symbols he says
Revered animals we are since eons.....
In country called India, heritage animal we are
and even worshipped in religious places he says!
Huge boulders or logs ,mankind used us for transport
We even entertain them in zoos and circus
But he regrets that we are poached, killed by men
to pull out pair of our incisors called tusks
who polish to make precious ivory to earn bucks
So useful and harmless friends to humans we are
I asked my uncle why so cruel the men are?
He said men show their power
of being Nature's superior creature
we elephant folk are helpless giants
We can do nothing but to pray that
we be valued for our selfless services and
be saved from going extinct from this world!
©Copyright Anulaxmi Nayak,2015
For contest: Giant animals
Sponsored by: D.Nathan
Date: 2nd September 2015
I have a fanged cat with the lightest aquamarine blue eyes
I told my guest, who acted suspicious and declared some surprise.
She’ll be along shortly, I told her, don’t worry. She’ll find you.
But Marble my cat was nowhere to be found with her eyes of blue
What do you mean by fanged cat? My dinner guest soon did qualify.
Frankly, my exaggeration description was a borderline lie.
She sounds horrible! If she shows up, should I be afraid?
No, I said casually, giving her another glass of cool pink lemonade.
Do you mean prominent incisors? My guest asked, looking around.
Cat Marble was not high up, and yet not anywhere on the ground.
Her fangs are prominent, It’s not like they are something you’d miss.
It was at that moment we heard a growl and a threatening hiss.
My guest sat upright and said “Is this cat dangerous, do you think?”
I saw that her face had turned a most horrifying glowing hot pink.
I came around and saw Mable had latched her fangs onto her knee
She’s just a baby, I told her. How frightening could one kitty be?
Those eyes are demonic, she is a cat from the bowels of hell.
Said this neighbor, who will never be invited back. Let’s call her Nell.
Or even call her Lee Merriweather, and out her completely I think.
She makes me so mad, my own face is now pink.
Mocking the dead,
the vampire on the hill, high
above the cityscape. Why
does his cloak wrap around?
It moves with a hissing sound,
blackened on the outside,
blue on the molten graveside.
Sharpening incisors on the crag,
but
the villagers with their worn rags
tight fisted with their goodly lights -
those lanterns, infused with salt
of garlic, compelled forward in the dead
of night. Mockers and murderers, fed
by rage, want to dispel the wine and bread.
Hell,
the strangulation of fire, lava rolling
down the hill. Mocking, laughter -
the shivering of the old church rafters.
The reborn, new creation, settled
on roof-blowing praise. Nettled,
old Nick, the vampire king unsettled.
Mocking the dead,
making his own bed, jutting at jugulars,
darkening the atmosphere, drawing
congregants, unholy. But, someone holy
has his heels on the vampire’s head.
He’s been banished…dead heads’ rolling.
The glorious light of the lamb, consoling.
Ice shrouds over the hunched houses
where blood and flesh huddle and wait.
An ice ravaged
face rears up from an invisible earth
its fangs blackened by a tooth-aching light,
more flesh piercing incisors
dagger down from the clamped
and sunken roofs.
What wreckage there is, is buried
hidden from sight, but it is not
a clean landscape. Not a landscape at all
but a telltale footprint,
a restructuring of destruction.
What was once seen as a town
is gone. Not forever (drama makes
actors of us all), but we talk now
in a past tense language of 'back then'
and not of any postcard view of tomorrow -
not yet.
Anacondas crush to pieces
Bisons sport long shaggy hair
Cheetahs are the fastest species
Dolphins leap into the air
Elephants have large incisors
Fennec foxes, ears like Spock
Great white sharks unnerve the divers
Hyenas are laughing stock
Indris is a type of monkey
Jaguars are fast and strong
Kangaroos are tall and clunky
Llamas' necks are rather long
Mandrills have red-bottomed features
Newts can grow an extra limb
Ostriches are speedy creatures
Polar bears just love to swim
Quetzels are ablaze with colour
Rattlesnakes subdue their prey
Sloths show life could not be duller
Tawny owls sleep through the day
Uakaris have red faces
Vultures scavenge on the go
Wild boar live in diverse places
X-ray tetra brightly glow
Yaks lock horns when in a fight
Zebras' coats are black and white
Now you'll know just who is who
When you visit London zoo.
22.02.20
Abecedarian Contest Poetry Contest - sponsor Caren Krutsinger
Abc Contest Poetry Contest - sponsored by Allright Poet
Heart
Pulse throbbing, breathlessly imbibing the cliff’s enthrall. The crashing of momentous waves against the bolder rocks. The passionate heaving of whisking foam and the swollen coolness of seaside air.
Mind
Blown, for I am not a fisherman, nor reside near the cliffs. What is a haven and harbor to many is a far-fetched tale to me, but here I stand as if Liberty over the seascape. I could walk these rocks, forever in my figment, roll the scene over and over again, watch the washing of the rocks.
Soul
The lighthouse sign, missed to one’s detriment. I take the warning sternly, with compassion for souls lost to the rocks. Resplendently wet, inviting adventure, departure into the lapping incisors. A cork bobbing, sinking, subsiding. Out of sight, I see ghosts clearly. Only fools tread onto the wet rocks. I want to be foolish, but it is not a good day to die.
Say what you will ’bout early mornin’ risers,
Say what you will about those who’ll not sleep.
‘Fore the sun comes up, their breath warms incisors
Ready to chomp at the day’s ripe meat.
A song in their heart, no stars in the sky,
Glittering dons the city her light
To death to steal what's mine go I
For I'll not abandon for that which I fight.
There's hope in my step, this early mornin' riser,
There's song in my throat surely as I breathe
Soon my son, we'll laugh all the wiser
At the challenge we've won at death's defeat.
Who can sleep so late into the morn?
Who can wait to start so fine a day?
Within my heart the cloud-fleece is shorn
And the melody’s changed to happy and gay.
So say what you will ‘bout the early mornin' riser
Say what you will ‘bout he who can't wait
He yet knows death's rematch, that stubborn prize fighter
Cannot long be stilled from his front gate.
A secret kept in a garden is embedded with
thorns and petals
go near you will smell eggs, manure
and ambrosia
hear piercing Alsatian fangs as it inserts into human flesh
sweet blood dripping sweat
All roars halt in a tunnel to the garden
every negation in abeyance
no escape to any delta or wonder calm
if you cannot withstand rapid lightnings of successive strikes at wrought iron gate of
a garden where a secret lies
With incisors at large seek out the secret clear
as transparency expands there is no fear
dancers Shaku Shaku across dusty towns
where a thousand marimbas are heard
while moringas grow straight and strong
with amarula in a tiny glass on a cold window sill
Focus on the secret’s scrolls in a garden
its engravings before you in wind float
as you plough askew in a battered tractor
trample a present moment in holy garden
sending chills up spine erect
Insist on one breath alone
a wordless word through no windscreen
looming large across the continent makwaya music ripples across a crocodile back
as hot bellies rise and fall
crane flowers open silently upon Sibebe Rock
watching a puff adder gliding past
the secret kept
in an aloe and wild orchid garden
Quarantined
Waking up to this strange dream
First sight is the checkered ceiling
Then the antique bathroom mirror
I see old age and worried red eyes
I see another drawn day of breathing
My beard is out of control with grey
I am home now and not going out
I hear helicopters often in the sky
The morning time is escape time
The missus and me watch another one
Another end-of-the-world imitation
Just like ice milk; not the real thing
We sit and netflix the hours like sharks
Devouring phony time with no incisors
As with a glass vase holding heartbeats
We know dinner time is the best time
As another anxious nothing day slinks by
There will be kitchen trips for comforts
There will be basement sojourns for spirits
But no afternoon excursions to the shops
No possibility of even meeting stone statues
Inside this wooden box is where we must hide
Out of this window is as far as I can see
Listen
There is hopeful music in the distant rooms
There are praying voices behind the closed doors
It stands nigh, seven foot
This beast of the night
Body of man
Such an immaculate sight
Hands like shovels
That will grasp your last breath
Claws so sharp, will leave your body
Torn, reft
This creature, this soul
From a dark forgotten past
Drawn back to the modern
One look, you'll gasp
Torso befitting
An athlete of it's race
Incisors so cutting
Will leave you defaced
To be fortunate to meet
On any given night
Welcome to your past
Your introduced by it's sleight
It stands nigh, seven foot
This beast of the night
If there's one, there must be others
Who'll deliver us from sight
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/dark-8.php