Short Boars Poems

unchallenged danger
Siberian tiger stalks
fearful boars panic...

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 NUDE ON THE RUN

It is a boring day at the beach.
See a nude with his laptop out of reach.
Singular of boars —
His laptop they score
It is a boar-ing day at the beach.

8/7/2020...

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Warily watching, panning.
One meercat sharply scanning,
Gallantly guarding buddies
From all the big bad hoodies.
Falcons flying, cats hunting,
sneaky snakes, wild boars grunting.
Duty done, feeding time fun!...

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Soldiers are trained
Extremely well
Like wild boars
Overcome hardship
They survive life
In extreme shape
Loyal yet fierce
Follow orders
Ready to kill
And being killed
One goal in mind
Bring the beacon
Of victory.
...

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A moment (Tanka)

Rain as wet silk falls
On a rosebush which burnish
Until gray sky smiles. 
And there is golden sunlight 
On my cottage whitewashed walls.

Haiku 
Stillness of soft rain 
Dogs sleep in haylofts and sheds
Dream of hunting boars...

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it's a motel room
sunrise, sunset, happy, orange sun
some such 
off the interstate
in
bum 
florida

my spasmodic hercules
I work pretty hard to make it a hercules,
anyway

with bulls & boars & eighty six
bras

and a bottle of evan williams
wine...

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Animals and Madness
A floppy-eared rabbit is
a cuddly lover 
it will not let you down.
Wild boars are ugly 
unloved they roam the forest 
looking for food
The cuddly rabbit died of old
age and children cried.
A bullet felled the boar and
it fed us a tasteful midday meal....

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Call me hayseed, bumpkin, hillbilly, or crazy hick
Fresh inspiring country air surrounds me thick
I could run outside naked if I wanted
I live where deer and wild turkey are hunted

Wild boars wander up to my yard to root
My garden has veggies, my trees bear fruit
The sun I see is better than most ever find
Taking me away from the country would be unkind...

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I am unhappily walking the plank again
Hearing the tick tocking of the crocodile's stomach
Knowing my muse is laughing her guts out
As if throwing me down the stairs and into a cavern
of wild boars who had not eaten for three days
Was not enough to keep her amused the rest of the week.
I cannot wait to see what tomorrow brings.
I just hope she leaves me some fingers
So I can still type....

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Rhyming for you so you are not blue
A redhead reads to a fellow in yellow
In a meadow green these words unseen
By sky sunset orange while ...... hmmm....
Animals forage? ...no
The boars cringe? ........no no
We have a corn binge...... nope
We wait for mornge.... not a word

Glorange, florange, bornge, quornge..... 
Can't do it, new line.

By sky dusted purple with a ...... hmmm ............

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While we humans are living in fear,
those sweet cats and the dogs we hold dear
get added attention
since we’re in detention.
Pets are thrilled that Corona is here!

Our societies came to a crawl,
but the creatures are having a ball.
Gators saunter to stores.
Monkeys, goats, and wild boars
running free aren’t so dumb after all!

April 23, 2020 for  Janice Canerdy's Limerick Contest
(I think my fingers hit the wrong keys first time around!)...

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The ancients honored you in their cultures
Mythology crowned Jataya, King Of Vultures

Obligate scavengers, you conduct your foray
Toward putrid carcass of what will be your prey

Dead bodies, prairie dogs, rodents, wild boars
Insatiable eclectic pallet opens many doors

Vomit, your defense, your uric acid searing 
Hunched backbone, broadened wingspan so fearing

Here they soar, the vultures who seldom kill
Just scouting about for their carrion meal...

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Leather boots and belts,
A maiden’s lipstick,
Handcuffs, lace panties bra,
Sword slave,
Wash muzzle,
Plug Tongue,
Eel slime plum,
Snail, tornado, bones, antlers, hands.
Razor clam dildo dug tunnel,
Cucumber purr kitty.
Brine volcano mussel worm plank,
Brassiere blaze twirl shell,
Palm girdle underwear, boot panty boars, hand Dug pussy thermometer!
Scream spank shout!
Kettle strap!!
Steam lung pulse!!!
 erection morgue eating crucifix breakfast?
...

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The Imitators

He has worked in the garden of poetry
Forty years gone.
The soil is meagre and the plants are eaten
By boars, they applaud him with grunts.

To find the roots and transplant them on a page
Or in the garden of literature, is not easy.
The gardener is famed for his genius or a charlatan
Of rose bushes.

Truth rears its ugly head, there are doubters
Who will not be silent, he knows when his plant’s
Has been purloined.
Better than not be read at all....

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