Long Poachers Poems
Long Poachers Poems. Below are the most popular long Poachers by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Poachers poems by poem length and keyword.
In the shade of our hands great trees rest
And in the midst of our circle many forests hide
Seeking relief from scorching greed
And the strong foul winds of menacing commerce.
Thickly they grow nourished by storms,
The storms of our words and deeds
That night and day stand with them.
The sweet birds sing to them
About an old tree now long gone
That one day woke to the terrors of a blade.
Valiantly did she stand her ground
Defending her right to be a tree for a while:
Not sawdust, not plywood, not firewood--
Just a happy green tree for a good while.
"Freedom for Tree-doms!" she cried out that day
To rouse trees and men alike
Against the terror of the cold steel blade.
But not a man, not a tree, rushed to her side
So alone she stood to fight her battle.
Alas, all she had for missiles were her pretty leaves,
Which in vain she hurled with a swing of her boughs
To drive the harsh blade from her mighty limbs.
Above the forest a little bird watched her struggle
end
As with flailing boughs she drowned
In the sea of green below
To lie quiet on the forest floor.
On her soft fallen leaves that night
Poachers crept while the world slept
And bore her away to humming mills
In a town far from the birds that wept.
This poem is a re-post from last year for the situation is worsening daily.
ELEPHANT’S GHOST
I am represented as a trinket on a
Human's wrist.
I was bought from a vendor,
Sometime last September,
I remember the vendor, he was,
Approached by a man in the street,
This man had stepped out of the shadows,
The vendor to meet.
The man from the shadows
Met with two other men
Their march sounded like military feet.
Money was exchanged, someone
Pointed to a truck down a lonely street,
The poachers knew
This deserted, but well known beat,
In the truck were the tusks of us all,
These despicable people had,
Gunned us down, and one by one,
Including me we met our fall.
Our tusks were hacked out,
Some of us not quite dead no doubt!
But I haven’t lost hope,
It isn’t too late,
To stop our bloody, grizzly fate,
Because a trinket made from part of me,
Means that humans can visibly see,
And then ask, for goodness sake,
Can we not try and end this heartache,
This horrible butchery,
With which we can all agree,
That, trinkets made from the tusks of
An elephant like me, never ever be sold,
And become the past, a history,
That will then only be told,
As a fairy story about wicked men
Who killed elephants in scores of ten.
Elephant proudly is my name,
Please stop this greedy killing game,
I chose to have my ghostly say,
And look forward to the day,
When elephant trinkets no more be made,
And for them be paid
In a sleazy vendors store,
Behind drawn curtains and a greasy floor.
I now can rest,
And feel blessed,
I appeal to all who hear,
For I’ve whispered in your ear,
Please be my mouth piece,
Try and make this madness cease,
Let us in unison say,
Poachers go away!
I begin my day before the sun even rises,
Heading out into the dark to gather a feast.
It’s my normal routine, so there are no surprises.
It’s quiet and lonely, but I fear no beast.
As I wander through the field, on the way to the lake,
The sun comes up, giving me warmth and light.
I have two paths to choose from; which do I take?
I’ll go on to the water; there’s nothing to the right.
As I continue, I’m getting hungry and need to eat,
But the water is close, just over the next hill.
So, I’ll wait until then, enjoying the sun’s heat,
And keep moving forward, thinking about my kill.
As I come to a clearing, I see two hunters by a tree,
Sitting on the ground with their guns, trying to hide.
They’ve been up there for hours just waiting for me.
I bet they’re just poachers, making money on the side.
I move slowly and quietly so they do not hear,
Hoping they don’t spot me across the way.
I’ve said before that I’m not afraid, that I have no fear,
But men like these, I have to avoid every day.
When I get to the lake, there are all kinds of others;
Zebras and hogs, gazelles and elephants, even deer.
The young ones know to stay close to their mothers,
When there are so many predators both far and near.
I know this because I’m one of them, you see.
I come here a lot to get my family some meat.
I stalk around in the bushes so on one can see me,
Moving close to the water on my large, quiet feet.
When I’ve chosen my prey and I’m ready to attack,
I leap from my hiding place, and take him by surprise.
As he tries to run away, he slips, falling on his back.
Sinking my teeth into his neck, I’ve won my prize.
I’ve waited all day for this chance to come around.
Now I can take my time heading back with no bother.
Dragging the carcass of the deer along the ground,
I feel righteous providing for the cubs and their father.
Orange and black, nature's warning sign
Muscle and grace intertwine
Prowling predator, jungle king
Silent steps, deadly swing
Eyes of amber, piercing gaze
Stalking through the misty haze
Whiskers twitch, sensing prey
In tall grass, the tigers lay
Roar echoes, primal sound
Shivers run, fear abound
Teeth like daggers, claws like knives
One swipe is all it takes for lives
Bengal, Siberian, and Sumatran too
Malayan, Indochinese – precious few
Species dwindling, habitats shrink
Poachers push them to the brink
Solitary hunter, territorial beast
Man and nature, an eternal feast
Powerful swimmer, climber strong
In folk tales and myths, they belong
Conservation efforts, racing time
To save this beast so sublime
Stripes unique, like fingerprints
In-camera traps, we see their hints
Symbol of strength, courage, and might
Tiger burning bright in the night
Apex predator, ecosystem's link
Without them, balance starts to sink
Majestic creature, fierce yet grand
Victim of greed in many a land
But hope remains if we act fast
To ensure the tiger's reign will last
So let the tiger's spirit ignite
A fire in us to join the fight
To keep them roaming, wild and free
A legacy for all to see
International Earth day prompts us not to forget
that the world we inhabit is under great threat
Blue oceans are being choked by plastic pollution
reduce, reuse and recycle is the simple solution
The balance of nature has been upset by man
species close to extinction, poachers strike if they can
If we don’t act quickly these rare breeds we’ll lose
their only protection is in nature reserves or zoos
Felling the rain forest is an issue we must combat
deforestation is destroying animal’s natural habitat
The effects of global warming on earth is far reaching
reducing fossil fuels is what we should be preaching
Educating both young and old is the key to success
we must act together to try to sort out earth’s mess
2/17/19
I must build a warm shelter, to fight off the cold.
Solitude coupled with loneliness fall
The need to survive musters up strength bold
Surveying surroundings demands my all
The chill of winter enters my heart's core
Fear wants to settle within my tired chest
There's a strong rock to shelter from the boars
Strength surges to my feet which seek their rest
Limbs, sticks, pine cones gathered to keep the flame
Jerky and trail mix feed hunger's desire
Rest tired soul your foe defeated without shame
Dream of conquered poachers tending hell's fires
Dawn sends me on my way, a stronger man
Through the north woods I come, my bow in hand.
I used the first and last lines that were given to me
by Debbie..I did not check to see if they matched what
was in the posted Crown sonnet..Sara
Rhino poachers often hunt at night
When the Rhino has poor eye sight.
These prehistoric creatures
Cannot distinguish human features.
But with a well-developed sense of smell
Fortunately they can always tell
When danger or a poacher is close,
Thanks to their sensitive nose.
Every horn that they take back,
And Rhino body that they hack,
Is yet more money in their belt,
To which no sentiment is felt.
Subsistence Poachers who randomly
Kill, fit a less important role,
Their profit cannot compare,
To syndicates with international flair!
These professionals are sourced
From a military career,
Using weapons and tactics that
Inflict unimaginable pain and fear.
Rhinos are darted from the air,
Without hesitation or human care.
Some Rhinos are found still half alive,
And veterinary surgeons rush to help
Them survive,
But could these same people perhaps
Be involved and accept,
These horrific acts, could they in fact,
Be suspect?
Will Rhinos become extinct,
This is a worrying fear,
Statistics do indicate that this scenario,
Is realistically near!
REPOSTING FROM A POEM 2018 WHEN I JOINED POETRY SOUP
Eweku Ewele
Chants of the vines and trees
The parody of the old
Oluigbo pleases at its rhythm.
Eweku Ewele
Poachers of the wilds
Toes to toes they dance to miles
'erin karele o wa Joba'.
Eweku Ewele
Two sides of a prancing coin
Weary to the merry mind
Merry to the weary wise.
Eweku Ewele
Blackest dungeon of emotion
The words, they profess
The substance, they retent.
Eweku Ewele
Glass to glass, the fists are tight
Dashing smiles, staring knives
Stamping foots, leaping hearts.
Eweku Ewele
Dwellers of the yard of 'imoran'
They pat and push.
When the pushed sees no path
"Eweku Ewele", the bell chimes.
I must build a shelter, to fight the cold.
Still, out are the poachers who brought the fight.
In the distance smoke, a joy to behold,
a cabin with a blaze, warmth for the night.
Wolves howl on the wind, I think of the men
hoping they've all risen and left now
But glad to have gotten away from them
I lope toward the lit window aglow.
A door opens and I welcomed right in
my son had been searching for me, I'm told.
The heat of the fire, dry clothes from kin
an earnest call to the forest patrol.
With mornings light I report in as planned
Through the north woods I come, my bow in hand.
If veins pulsed with liquid gold
we'd be lucky to last one night
victims to pyrite-hearted souls
who'd suck us dry before first light.
If eyes and tongues were made of gems
they'd soon be plucked for prophet
by bands of blind and greedy men
leaving mimes chained to purple sockets.
If arms and legs were made of ivory
we'd be cornered then quickly quartered
by hordes of desperados and poachers
for the sake of filling godless dowries.
If souls were woven from emerald
and hearts made of glowing rubies
they'd pillage then refill with emptiness
and echo the walk of the walking dead.
If testicles were made of pearls
every man would soon resemble girls.