Short Poachers Poems
Short Poachers Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Poachers by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Poachers by length and keyword.
Living in mountainous rocky area
Makes goat mountain free from predators
But, sometimes a simple wrong steps will kill them
Other danger lurking goat mountain
Are the poachers and hunters.
An evil kangaroo poacher from Perth
Rousted rare 'roos for all they were worth.
But, one day as he wrangled,
In his noose he got tangled,
Now of kangaroo poachers from Perth there's a dearth.
This night,
I had seen poachers come in the heaven
and bad things done by angels with smiling
face,
And the trophy won by the sinner
in the state.
For good or ill,
I shyly select to escape
Soft, pure white feathers
Cover their grey downy heads
Giving protection.
Threatening talons
Or poachers cannot come close
When she spreads her wings.
‘Neath her warm shadow
Cygnets so safe and secure
Snuggle together.
Soft, pure white feathers
Cover their grey downy heads
Giving protection.
Threatening talons
Or poachers cannot come close
When she spreads her wings.
‘Neath her warm shadow
Cygnets so safe and secure
Snuggle together.
When I return to earth in my next earth life,
I will be found in Africa, trumpeting and pounding the ground.
Shaking leaves and trees as I lumber through.
I will charge poachers, smacking their guns out of their hands.
I will kill them for their teeth.
Gone but not forgotten
The people that died
Of Aids
Gone but not forgotten
The homeless
That have died of frostbite
Gone but not forgotten
The whales that the poachers
Poached
Gone but not forgotten
The soldiers that had
Died in the war over seas
Gone but not forgotten
The people that died
Of Aids
Gone but not forgotten
The homeless
That have died of frostbite
Gone but not forgotten
The whales that the poachers
Poached
Gone but not forgotten
The soldiers that had
Died in the war over seas
My tail was used to waggin'
While flirtin' in the sun
But now my ass is draggin'
From all the deeds they've done
The poachers all are gaffin'
Was hopin' they were dead
But they continued laughin'
While choppin' off my head
Won't need old Gordon Gekko
When my final days are done
My ears will never echo
All the laughter in the sun
I want to be a poet to pot and pet words
Then I shall write in a font so bright and right
About preachers, poachers,teachers and bloggers
Then I shall say in black,red and white
Of their blessings, dressing and preachings without dressing my words
Then I shall sit and have a cup of cold hot tea plus another of hot cold water
Because I shall have won in my play against words
Mum and me
Below the skies
Strolling by
Above birds fly
Two orbs
Look down on us
Planetary worlds
Float without fuss
A tall tree
Lazily sways
As if to guide us
On our way
Distant clouds
Swirl around
Hold their charms
Without a sound
As we roam our lands
With no sight of man
Free from death
At the poachers hand
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/nature4.php
Don't be fooled by the smile of a crocodile
Who appears to be happy to meet you.
For though his grin is beguiling,
In his head he's compiling
Various ways he is planning to eat you.
A croc's disposition is hard to predict,
It's quixotic and largely a moot case.
The main thing he most often worries about,
And what keeps him for poachers upon the lookout,
Is becoming a handbag or suitcase.
After years of trudging, trampling and trumpeting,
the mighty rouge heads for his destiny. All his
ancestors await his arrival, his final resting
ground hidden from others who wish to rob his family
of their jewels they’ve worked so hard to hide.
Instilled in him is the map leading to his family.
Soon he’ll be free, he won’t need to hide from
poachers, safari men or lions, and he’ll die proud.
A splendiferous, majestic beast
male lions live lives of famine or feast.
In Africa, he's dubbed the king
reigning supreme over everything.
A super-sized cat he rules the pride
siring all cubs, he won't be denied.
In regal pose, he scans his domain
where due to poachers so few remain.
(Rhyme)
04,30,2019
Free verse or Rhyme Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Eve Roper
#3 photo used
Only by accident you
will find life in
the dead elephant.
We start soul-searching
to uncover,
the hidden path to-
landlocked sea of poachers
of ivory truth.
Infant cries, sleeping
in grass, wait for the
blossoms of spring.
Like a panther
a red cloud descends
to kill the moving, play
without pain.
The nightfall,
when you will discover
yourself in grief
and wait for the sun.
Satish Verma
Elastic evil in encroaching European’s enterprising motives.
Level-headed land animal leaves African lowlands.
Eventually they are followed by those who shall not be named.
Private collector hopes tusks will not be a mismatch.
Horrific hunters hold hand-held machetes.
Active game wardens wait for the hunter’s hammiest moment.
Newly arrested poachers rapidly chew their pink mastiche.
Threat to tusks thwarted, wardens sit down to taste tasty tzimmes.
Poachers shrug off
their critics,
who say that they are aiding
elephants' extinction - the
people who are thirsty
for money from tusks claim
that poaching
doesn't destroy the world,
it only destroys poverty
and feeds their hungry families.
They press the triggers,
without foreseeing a wild with no elephants;
a nation with no tourism;
an orphaned elephant calf;
a beauty scrapped off from Mother Nature's creation....
Photo #2
Date: 09/04/2016
On the first day of Christmas
my true love gifted me
an ostrich in a baobab tree.
On the second day of Christmas
my true love gifted me
two pink flamingos
and an ostrich in a baobab tree.
On the third day of Christmas
my true love gifted me
three guinea fowl,
two pink flamingos
and an ostrich in a baobab tree.
On the fourth day of Christmas
no more did I receive
it's a crime and a sin
there's yet room in the tree
but too many poachers at the inn.
a kiss
on lips, returns with a blunt style,
in perfumed demeanor !
i did not hear
with absolute eyes, a captive
in chained feet, for self-defence;
all the shades of red
were walking on ocean,
a black skull glides:
the night fills in pores-
the gale, kills the black bucks,
poachers were on run !
in telling, the wizard
entices, you will never know
full toll of civil war:
he turns down a gift of speech;
words and whistles were surreal echoes
and I see a sword like nose
SATISH VERMA
Standing by a tree, rifle on hip
Leaves red and yellow like a Viking ship
Watching from the shadows, a poachers eye
Silently waiting as phantoms glide by
A noise, just a bird on the forest floor
Preening and dancing like Madame Pompadour.
Footsteps follow a distant call
Crouching like a woodlouse in a steel backed ball
Face in the dirt, a mouthful of leaves
Hiding in the gloom, nobody sees
Silence, nothing but another ghost
With the stealth of a tiger, moves back to his post.