Two quail skitter quickly up
this gentle country dirt path,
one running faster than the other.
It's hard to keep up sometimes.
A dog watches from his porch
and wonders if there's food
ahead as he barks at the quail.
Competition can be a real strain.
In his envy and frustration his barks
get louder -- the quail run faster
to the safety of bushes with berries.
"See here ... doggies don't eat berries."
Along the Appalachian trail
was a leftover petrified bale
on top stood a lonely quail
looking sturdy, in no way frail
also left was a loaf of bread, stale
according to my goofy cousin, Dale
Always good for stories without fail
comedienne after his stint in jail
next to the straw bale was a grail
Dale thought it was carved in shale
he heard a coyote’s drawn-out wail
it came to him on a gusty gale
He nibbled on a piece of kale
which he had found in a wooden pail
soon he felt hearty and hale
is this the end? asked the inquisitive quail
King quail also called
Alsoman in Arabic,
Chinese painted quail
While gazing at wonders of star gleams,
listened to wild quail as they cooed dreams.
Up and down dry riverbed came cries
of night birds exploring darkened skies.
Warm-blanket sounds to erase day's rush
Slowly sounds fade, night deepens to hush.
November 11, 2022
Quick and swift, dash away
quilling crown, so flashy
quite a bird, moves in flocks
quirky squawks when fleeing
quest to kill, tasty meal
quoth the hunter, who waits
quaint portraits show the prize.
A Pleiades Poem
9/29/2022
in the garden lives a quail covey
they make me smile every day
a dozen small brown speckled bodies
of pleasing plump shape
darting about
scurrying along the garden edge
dust bathing in dirt scrapes
calling to reassure each other
something in their purposeful busyness
and social natures
is so endearing
how lucky I am
to have the trust and fellowship
of this cooperative collective
in this space we share
26 September 2022
Quail Run
The birds are quiet in the morning.
They eat the bugs on the ground, all around.
They are beautiful.
They are peaceful...
They are Quail.
By noon the rooster is in full form.
He is challenging all comers, to a fight.
No one is taking him seriously.
Instead, they call to each other,
with calm noises,
pretending to make them louder
then they should be... to hear.
The ladies are too busy to care,
they simply stare at the feeder for more.
They lay a dozen eggs,
and keep on going...
Twenty-one days to the next generation,
a cycle of perfection.
Later..., as the day has passed,
and the night threatens return...
The cat calls, the dog barks,
and the birds listen.
The music of the moment,
not lost on any of their ears...
only added,
the fears,
of the owl.
stealthily tracking
harmless game like rabbit. quail ~
clever, skilled hunter
Wild Animal Haiku Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin
I used howmanysyllables.com to count syllables
April 11, 2022
May I taste the unbreakable bond to the perfect union of
Uni and quail eggs.Two true dancers
Stir vigorously
Agitate rice while it absorbs fish stock
May I never acknowledge obstacles to the perfect union of
Uni and sake.Two adventurers
Interlock freely
Fine-tuning Español while rice grains formulating starches
Inevitable extrovert – against all odds
Be Still:
Clouds cuddling while interexchange liveliness
Simply being still ~
Sounds of silence penetrates through skin into core existence.
Fusing breathes onto
Singularity – infinite dense core – falling and falling in, falling high,
Floating and floating deep, floating beyond general theory of relativity
Insanely radiant in seventh heaven melting into ashes,
Carbon.
Grilling in underpants under the moonlight, starlight, flashlight.
Choose this Mentally Sensitive trail by act of will.
Touch the natural color of faith
Or fear
Trust unknown territory of inner compass to Fill a void
Yes, you may ride the accelerator to the perfect union of
Professor and entrepreneur.
What’s more:
Maybe quail eggs lead to turkey sandwiches and squash blossom.
Absorbing sunset colors as I sat,
I heard the soft mews of a mournful cat,
Lost somewhere in the garden near the lane.
For its forlorn owner I sought in vain.
Suddenly there came the sounds of quail calls
Though quail never feed here as evening falls.
Were their cries clues to where the cat was now?
I listened, careful, for the next meow.
Soon came a cascade of solo singing:
Robins, jays, finches sang as if on cue.
Which was that silent creeping cat stalking?
I would bet those birds wanted to know too.
Wrens, larks, and chickadees chimed cheerily;
All the while, nary a bird did I see.
I searched and I called for my feline friend;
Shrugging, I gave up, my search at an end.
I turned back to the house, walking slowly,
When the cat called from the sycamore tree.
I looked up as I thought I heard a dove;
There was the high-leaping sight that I love:
The silhouetted imitator sly
Of the untroubled rosy evening sky;
Colorful, charming, and sometimes absurd,
A fluttering, mimicking mockingbird.
QUAIL ARMY SONG
I don’t know but I’ve been told
No quail born ever gets old
It’s plain that we gotta fight
For each and ev’ry God-given right
To be quails and not hors d’oeuvres
It’s simply what we all deserve
We want quail houses with double glazing
Is that so very amazing?
And quail babies and quail mortgages;
And not to end up as quail sausages;
To pick up our old-age quail pension,
And not even have to mention
Ignominiously turning up
In a French mustard dip,
Like uncle Bert who met an early death
As pate on a singing soldier’s breath :
“47 Chevy and a tankful of gas,*
Quail liver pate kinds tastes like grass”.
………………………………………………………
*Plagiarised from HEARTBREAK RIDGE movie
(From my collection of Bird Poetry and Other Pretensious Crap"
The sudden storm trapped
baby quail in the gutter.
Somehow, he got free.
See "Sudden Storm" by Andrea Dietrich.
Mayhem, murder and accidents
On the evening news without fail.
While I walk the floor in worry
Over a tiny quail.
He appeared in my yard last week
And I laughed as I saw him peck.
He stayed around and yesterday
He climbed upon the deck.
I brought Kitty into the house
And went out to scatter some grain,
But the little thing had vanished
Not to be seen again.
I don’t know from where he came
And I don’t know where he has gone,
But I fell in love with this cutie
As he pecked upon my lawn.
There are wild cats and coyotes
Who would be apt to do him harm,
But I hope he’s only hiding.
He decorates this farm.
By; Joyce Johnson
Fopr Constance The Rambling Poet's Beautiful Bird mini blog contest. 1st in contest
The night deepens her charms
On the threshold the bells toll
Shadows follow her treads
Evading hushed moonlight sheen.
Yonder bellows the wind
Werewolf’s sniff their clans call
Clouds play hide and seek
Terror the night she in her minks:
Merge shape shifter moves in stealth
Foot print to feline teen.
She will learn to know freedom
In Bear hugs and captor winks.
Desperation within her slips
Falter, dodge stare, in my skills.
Victim of vampires, hot blooded breed
She says showing her links
Fangs arch, body surge strengthen
Arms grip, erosion in her wills.
Soaked eyes fill with tears
I chain upper limbs see her blink
Crafty in smiles they pierce my heart
She weaken me in frills
Transgress into paths of blood luster
Neck clasp for her to pink:
Rages, fumes as face mask lock
Collar her necks poison tilt.
sleeping quail~
soft snores forgotten
under a blanket of Gravy
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