winter arrives late
in the forest
a stoat
melts
into a snowdrift
thermals rising
a brown buzzard
ground circling
silhouetted
shadowed
before slaying
darkness
descending
slowly
out of the silence
of night
a single owl
screech
hunger
haunts
each dark hour
as
the
coldness
kills
Sitting in the shade of a willow tree
Reading, relaxing, enjoying the day
When, in the corner of my eye, I see
Soft shadows shifting and watch a stoat sway
Not moving a muscle, nerves all on edge
My eyes went searching, covering the ground
And there, in full view, beneath a brown hedge
A lone furry rabbit, helpless to bound
His stance was stock still, as if hypnotised
Standing seduced by the predator’s dance
His life, in an instant, was sacrificed
The rabbit, poor thing, had never a chance
Here in this valley beside a still brook
I read a sad page from natures own book.
winter
arrives late
in the forest-
a stoat melts into the
snowdrift
A bonnie wee place, Drummore.
Just aff the Galloway Shore.
A stoat and a fish.
Their signature dish.
A bonnie wee place Drummore.
We were bobbing on the ocean in our tiny pea green boat
The pussycat, the owl and me were many days afloat
With hunger in the belly and a dryness in the throat
The owl winked at the pussycat and said lets take a vote
The owl then looked at me and said we do not mean to gloat
But pussycat and I agree that lunch today is Stoat
Feel free to take a moment to leave those you love a note
And then we’ll make it really quick when we peel off your coat
I told them that the story goes that they wont meet a goat
A turkey and a pig, I said, will come along as wrote
That pig will take a shilling or perhaps a measly groat
To help you cook the turkey which will make our tummies bloat
That’s the version of this tale I wish I could promote
The chances of it going that way were, it seems, remote
For no stoat gets a mention, not in paraphrase nor quote
And so it seems that poor old me got well and truly smote
Who are you?
Kangaroo
What do you do?
Kangaroo
You don't moo
Kangaroo
You're not a cow
Kangaroo
Or a sow
Kangaroo
Or a horse
Kangaroo
Of course
Kangaroo
You're not a cat
Kangaroo
Fancy that
Kangaroo
You're not a dog
Kangaroo
Or a frog
Kangaroo
Or a goat
Kangaroo
Or a stoat
Kangaroo
You're not a giraffe
Kangaroo
What a laugh
Kangaroo
You're not a bear
Kangaroo
Nearly there
Kangaroo
Who are you
Kangaroo that's you
When the snout of lush abundance is full and flowing,
when all prey and creature-kind spill upon the verdant swards,
then it is that I worry night and day,
for the stoat, fox and hawk are at work,
they scythe in the whelm and nimiety, they hack and harrow.
The kits and chuckling’s are many, the light too bright;
for then the foragers forgoing fright, are palpable and open.
The long-eared nibblers, hairs on scattered rodents laid bare,
they scutter, skitter and twitch much in the open
greatly prone to be pounced upon;
their paltry pelts all unhidden, and being many,
and not running, they are huddled; yet not strong.
If this slew not ease, if the grabbers not falter,
if the singled-out dither, the glut not wither,
then the green snake will climb to where nestlings hutch -
they all so easily plucked and quickly snatched.
I worry for the wee brown birds; mottled shells still unhatched.
I fear a winnowing, withal a harsh hazard of gorge and sate.
I fret for the freshly delivered, the teeming,
the newly produced, all the bounding bounty
for those too easily found and so, arrived too late.
Fox So Brave
Fox so brave in the daylight air,
No people around, he doesn't care.
Elusive creatures come out to play,
No human predators spoiling their day.
Air smells sweet, less carbon, less diesel,
Foot of my garden, Stoat plays Weasel.
Heathrow is quiet, terminals asleep,
Pleasantly eerie, not a sound or peep.
Humans in sanctuary, stay safe and sound,
New order in place for wildlife around.
It won't last long, enjoy while you can,
In a few weeks or more the return of man.
Fox so brave in the daylight air,
No people around, he doesn't care.
The little Elf
All by himself
Was dancing in the wood
He was gloriously happy
As Elfin folk should be
Surrounded by nature
In all its majesty
As the little Elf was dancing
He began to sing
He sang very softly
As there wasn't much of him
Even though the volume
Wasn't very loud
The little Elf singing
Brought a happy crowd
An Owl in a nearby tree
Way up in the sky
Was so touched by the song
A tear fell from his eye
A dog stopped barking
So that he could hear the tune
The little Elf was in his element
Serenading the Moon
The Moon shone brightly
Enjoying every note
A Ferret looked all dreamily
At his girlfriend a Stoat
A cat purred softly
It was a Siamese
The crowd became thicker
It was getting quite a squeeze
All the animals in the forest
That listened to the Elf
All had private thoughts
They kept to themselves
Elves are mischievious
Naughty little things
It is very rare to hear
Elves softly sing
Sing he did so beautifully
Because he knew that he
Was on his way to marry
His sweetheart
A fragile Fairy
Flora bought a new fur coat
It was made from stoat
She craved for a mink
And was wise enough to think
That possibility remote
Lawn furniture flavored ice cream
served in moxa cups
Candied eyes of freshwater bream
pickled bushdog pups.
Pig pizzle wrapped around a stick
grilled upon the deck
Woven rope with cat head and brick
hung about your neck.
Marzipan violin bowed by a stoat
badminton played widdershins
A toast of poison without antidote
barefoot on needles and pins.
last Autumn colours -
lost in winter snow.
twin vapour trails
on sky November blue,
Canada geese in formation-
head south.
November sombre,December dark,
January,February cold and stark
Rain filled days of slush and muck,
webs on shards of gossamer shade
'til snowdrops matamorphise in the glade.
On the lawn strewn leavings
of a ravenous raptor-
nature's journal leafs another chapter.
makeshift banks
overhang into drifts-
snow falls icy blue
winter arrives late-
in the forest a stoat melts into
a snowdrift
out of the silence
of the winter night,
a single owl screech
darkness descends-
hunger abates
the tiles dusted with snow-
trickle down rivulets fill the
rain butt
before the beginning,
aches burnt slow fuses
in blood shrapnel'd fog,
salted feet tread spattered rain,
as men held spent while veiled mothers wept;
growth rings sat lonely on soot tarnished walls,
regrets wrung young necks snatched in flight down dank halls;
tho' faithful bones preach virtues of battle,
good soldiers pray not for eager roots,
duty once burnished brave Pericles' helm,
now under hill barrows form shadows for muster,
feeding shot powder thurible blessings;
as the fiddle fears the concerto's note,
unbaptized souls flee the thieving stoat;
under the moral eye,
sabers eased in tin, in sighs,
engendered discourse with the Other,
shattered friends, splintered foe,
remnants of another time;
desperate for the author's joke,
unbidden blades pierce tattered cloaks;
once upright men, wounded grimace men,
hobbled yet heroic still,
would dare yet to delve the authentic heart,
and wake the sleeper, sharpen pen, for
without ritual, gods survive war.
NATURE’S CHAIN
a thick mist blankets the winter dawn---
necklaced jewels bedeck the hedge, winter arrives late ,in the forest a stoat melts into a snowdrift; Thermals rising with brown buzzard ground circling
silhouetted, shadowed before slaying
darkness descending slowly,out of the silence
of the winter's night,a single owl screech
hunger which haunts each dark hour,as coldness kills
Listen to me read this poem on youtube under name ichthyschiro
Gabriel
Enter! Step across the threshold
unto a haunted house.
There’s tricky, tricky vermin here,
ssshhh ! Tread carefully like a mouse.
Heathens satyrs ,
bragging lazy waiters,
filthy filthy rats, large red cats.
A bully or two drunk through and through.
But mark me now all these pirates
twould bow down and fall,
begging in front of one
who rules ‘em all.
Gabriel !
A prince in reality
Oh mighty, mighty jester,
searching for a flea.
How the ghosts all about
do sit up and stare
if little Gabriel changes unto a bear,
and in a merry muddle
pisses straight unto a puddle .
Then to ride upon his mare of steel
to some fair isle that isn’t real.
All the maids do love him
cause he dances like a stoat
He’s three feet tall,
six years no more, master of all
So in this haunted house,
sssshhh! Tread carefully like a mouse.
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