a fox, young stag and rabbit walk into a hut
Who! Yelled a creepy guy we kind of named Nut
Isn’t it a bar, don’t you mean bar? A bar, right?
The fox, young stag and rabbit ran out of sight.
Only the males bear antlers,
Heavy crowns shaped by winter winds.
He carries what the world asks of him,
Still, he moves forward
His antlers speak in silence,
Broad arcs declaring he will not yield.
Strength is shown long before it's tested,
Still, he moves forward
Among the herd, order settles quickly,
The tallest crowns guiding the path ahead.
He learns his place through patient winters,
Still, he moves forward
From the ridge he keeps vigil,
Eyes steady on every shifting shadow.
Guarding others becomes his quiet duty,
Still, he moves forward
When winter takes his antlers,
They fall like memories into snow.
He stands lighter, but not unbroken,
Still.
New velvet rises from old scars,
Soft beginnings shaped by patient days.
Strength returns in gentler forms,
Still, he moves forward
Sunrise, sunset, noon.
It meant little to him.
He was completely blind.
Snow fell all around
Hiding the little fodder
That lay around.
The wind blew,
Yet it conveyed no scent.
His antlers were frost bitten.
His body starved of food.
He sensed a rangale of does
With the head stag alert.
The fight would be lost.
In his blindness he had no chance.
So he turned back despite the snow.
Hunters came with arrows.
The blind stag searched for under bush.
He knew his prayers were in vain.
The arrows were precise.
The blind stag fell, no sound.
It was a relief.
The snow continued to fall, staining
The ice with blood.
Stands at the summit
Statuesque, pays me no heed
He is above me
Male stag beetles fight, fight, fight
Winning their mates into the night
Pinching each other with bravado big
Beating enemies with pinchers that dig
heroic white stag
Keeper of winter light
Protector of frost and ice
He parades into my mind
Bringing peace doves
Showing what innocence can do
The newness of January
Refreshing me
Giving me my own antlers
Allowing me my oneness of self
I see it now, a Highland stag
Magnificent!
I felt no love for it,
it also was free of such bonds.
Yet animal to animal
we shared the same shadowed soul.
It moves away,
disappearing behind a ridge,
strange, but now that it is gone,
I miss it as if I loved it.
So it is with those
who have appeared and disappeared
over the strung-out years.
Many went away,
then came back as ghosts -
not dead, but ghosts, nevertheless.
That word ‘love',
maybe I am misinterpreting it,
I know I have been misled often
by its appearance.
There is something much better
than that ill-defined verbalized face,
something worth missing.
Again I recall the stag,
how only after its disappearance,
only then did I love it.
Sitting upside down in the car
On its roof and well concealed
By the hedge it just leapt to
Land upside down in this field
The lesson being learned
When going round a bend
Trying to pick up a ciggie
Can cause unfortunate end
It seemed all quite peaceful
In an ending somehow right
To what had been a memorable
And very worthy Stag Night.
Deciding to respond to
The penetrating shout
Of are you all alright
We decided to climb out.
Good Lord but I’m chuffed
This beery voice said
I saw you jump the hedge
And I though you were dead.
We stood around a while
For a laugh and a joke
Each one of us enjoying
A much needed smoke.
Can I give you a lift he said
It’s the least I can do
I can’t wait for the police
‘Cos I’ve been drinking too.
A country road mid 1960’s
A cold and bitter night
Isolated and deserted and
Not a person or house in sight.
So he drove us back to Bert’s place
Which wasn’t really very far
And Bert had to wake and tell his dad
That he’d gone and crashed his car.
A good solid early1960’s model
And although we got a bad fright
I think that’s what helped us all survive
The rigours and vigours of Bert’s Stag Night
intense . . . to begin with, belayed by hours
hewn soliloquy through obverse platitudes
benign, betrayal among friends, in grounds
of open mouths, a kraken of tongues regale
upon which bar the cocktails finally arrived
I bargained with God please don't send me back,
unless I can have green eyes like my cat..
I also requested brown stripes on my back.
Earth tones blend in, a well-known fact.
My final petition was to have four legs.
It's much more efficient when chasing stags.
If I must return for one final tour.
Don't make me a human.
I won't endure.
He ventured from
the wooded square acred forest that remained
in search of food and a companion or two,
there was neither;
down along the rows of $600, 000 homes,
5000 square foot monoliths for two and a child
fenced in against the surrounding world,
traveling along, alone on a desolate
macadam paved roads
and the concrete stepping stones
that ached
in the touch on his swollen hooves;
it was the three o'clock hour
the darkness surrounding the early morning hours,
no traffic sounded on the pavement,
he stepped cautiously listening
straining to reach the other side
as the car reared its fender against him
it raced away pushing him to the curb
where he lay slowly dying
stretching his life into extinction
lost to the progress of mankind.
wind chills dip harsh freeze
branches snapping under snow~
stag stands frozen still
12/29/2022
Ice, Snow Or Frost Haiku Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin
Roaming eyes and heavy brows
The lowly hunter lies in wait
Palms are sweaty as temperature rises
Big red stag he anticipates
Lying and waiting, just anticipating
'Big Game' is the goal
My, my, such a foreigner to spirit and soul
Deciduous trees over beautiful terrain
The peace and calm of a Georgia December
Still lying and waiting, just anticipating
For a prize, a game, a win
Uh oh! Shhhhh, wait!
The sweet rustling and crinkling of leaves and brush
A glorious movement at a distance
'Big Red' the hunter is anticipating
But 'Big White' is coming through the pines
Now, hands grow cold as the temperature drops
Eyes become sullen and the trigger finger stops
The rifle is laid to rest
The white stag emerges and ceases the hunter's quest
Drew the short straw, I always do.
Got the 2am stag, out there in the cold
Freezing my rocks, cold through my socks,
Dare I have a ***, no one will see,
Just about to flick me Zippo,
A voice reaches out to me.
That *** will cost you dear,
You'll never know when I am near.
Looking all around, not a soul about,
Wondering where the voice was,
I just couldn't see.
It was crystal clear, right next to me.
Whoever it was, it did the trick that night.
I was on full alert, because of that fright.
I was stood down at 4 am by a sad looking lad,
To crash for a few hours before end of night.
© Dave Timperley 17/10/2021
Dare challenge me?
Then be my guest …
The stags enter into a jousting quest,
No time now for antlers to rest,
The challenger locks his horny crest,
With focused stare and forceful zest,
A testosterone and power fest,
Nature at its Darwinian best.
Into the gene-pool
He wished to invest,
Can he suceed,
Survive this test?
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