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Best Poems Written by Amy Travesser

Below are the all-time best Amy Travesser poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Amy Travesser Poem

The Dog Team

The leader is ahead, you know,
His head held high, his chest held low,
As he races through the snow,
Where he leads, the rest will go.

The harnessed dogs have aching feet,
A pound of fish is all they eat,
Yet they will never face defeat,
Till their job is all complete.

The pride of pulling is in their heart,
Till death will make their lives depart,
They will pull the rugged sleigh,
Until they see their final day.

They toil without one complaint,
They try to keep from being faint,
Sled dogs are, I know, a faithful saint,
A picture of Christ's life they paint,

He died faithfully for His greatest love,
He died so we may all be with Him above,
And if the sled dog loves pulling the sled so,
Jesus loved to save from sins, so much more you know?

Details | Amy Travesser Poem

The Wolf Pack

The eerie shriek of a wild thing,
Into the air does wail and sing.
The great brown moose feasting on the brush,
Sees a pack of wolves coming at a rush,
The leader wolf will slash and slay,
To feed his pack he will do what he may.
The moose bolts and snorts in fear,
The wolves are already too near,
They come with easy flowing stride,
The leader's mate is at his side.
The nostrils of the moose do flex,
His scam of escape the wolf wrecks,
He dashes and slashes with cunning bounds,
And in circles he runs the moose on his rounds.
A young and in the way member,
Does burst out from the timber,
He tries to tear the moose's flank,
But in his skull the splay hoof sank.
A scream of fearfull agony,
The end the young wolf did not see,
He lay in a wreckless heap,
But the seeds of carelessness he did reap.
The leader slashes wide the vein,
That when torn life does not gain,
The moose thrashed with dozens of legs,
His throat torn into rags.
The wolves were crunching,
Leader was munching,
The moose the price did pay,
This is Mother nature's way.
A week later bones are left,
The wolves are a moose's theft,
They rid the moose of his life,
So they may satisfy the hunger piercing like a knife.

Details | Amy Travesser Poem

Big Cats!!

Whose eyes shine in the night like balls of fire?
Whose paw could break a whole empire?
Whose strength could dam a river in niger?
I say, It is the Indian Tiger.

Who could use its paw to break,
A great stag's skull and overtake,
A antelope running toward the horizon?
I say, it is the African Lion.

Whose voice is a scream instead of a roar?
Who drops down from its tree on a boar?
Whose leap is far and its aim sure?
I say, It is the American Cougar.

Whose speed can fly past the great giraffe?
Who at our run would surely laugh?
Who lives on the dry plains of Africa?
I say, it is the spotted cheetah.

Whose leap is accurate and eyes very keen,
Who like a house cat keeps very clean?
Who eats birds and mice a lot?
I say, it is the sly ocelot!

Who is smaller than the ocelot and faster than a deer?
Whose ears are very keen and it's vision far and clear?
Who reminds me at least of the Egyptian Sphinx?
I say, it is the Canadian Lynx.

Who runs quite fast up trees so high?
Who in races with dogs would only tie?
Who eats other prey but mostly the rat?
I say, it is the little bobcat.

Now who does man consider friend?
Who with mice a hand does lend?
Who plays with paper and this and that?
I say, it is the tiny house cat!

Details | Amy Travesser Poem

Spaghetti Boy

I have a brother who is eighteen,
When he was a baby he wasn't clean,
Oh how he loved spaghetti and sauce,
Most of it that was put on his plate was a loss.

First he took his fork and set spaghetti in his hair,
Then he ate and got it every where,
To tell the truth, I wasn't really there,
And my mom didn't seem to care.

I bet he had a noodle on his nose,
My mom told me it even got on his toes,
He seemed like he wanted to save a little,
He spread it on his face, his arms and his middle.

I wonder what my mommy thought,
When she saw the spaghetti she had bought,
Wasted and pasted on my brother,
Poor poor little mother!

I don't know if I did the same,
But it sure won my brother fame,
At least in the family,
But now its here for all to see.

Details | Amy Travesser Poem

Mr. Sly

The light of day is gone,
The night is slowly dragging on,
Out of his den under the rocks, 
Comes the sly silver fox.

He peers around into the night,
His eyes like yellow firelight,
He runs on soft and silent feet,
Looking for something good to eat.

Mrs. Mouse came from her hole,
She paid the price of nature's role,
Fox pounced upon her slender tail,
Poor Mrs. Mouse did turn quite pale.

A rabbit dazed with drowsy sleep,
Lay under brush in a heap,
Mr. Fox must not be full,
For he jumped on her and ate her whole!

The fox now turned and slunk away,
To roam about until the day,
Day will find him in his den,
Sleeping and waking now and then.

Details | Amy Travesser Poem

Time

The ticking of the little hands,
Brings hours to the foreign lands,
Brings the stars out at night,
And dark overcomes the light.

The ticking of the little clock,
Brings sailors to the rocking dock,
Brings people home from far away,
And brings the summer and spring day.

The time is clock and clock is time,
The seconds of it made this rhyme,
It wove the threads of years past,
And makes the years ahead seem vast.

It tells men when to get to work,
And foxes just when they should lurk,
And the owl who goes to bed,
When we get up, Sleepyhead!

It tells the moon to go away,
And when the sun should stay,
It tells the moon to come about,
And tells the sun to blow light out.

It makes the grass turn brown or green,
It tells the mallard when to preen,
It tells mostly everything,
Even when the birds should sing.

I think this poem now should end,
But remember time is friend,
It sometimes may seem enemy,
But in the end you will see.

Details | Amy Travesser Poem

Watch Out!

I am black and white,
I am a smell, not a sight,
I've got a tail,
It'll aim well,
And I have quite a bite.

Some say I carry rabies,
Some think we are all babies,
But we are not,
A rabid lot,
We are not all just crazies.

Once in a while we'll get the disease,
That makes our brains work without ease,
We get a thirst,
That seems to burst,
Until our heart beats cease.

But most of the time we're a stinky pack,
You'd better always watch your back,
One more time I'll say the same,
The black and whites have a good aim,
Spraying stink is our knack.

But I just wanted to warn you,
That spraying is not all we do,
We are not,
A rabid lot,
We're God's creation too.

Watch Out!

Details | Amy Travesser Poem

Duty

The silent march of a male wolf,
As he scans the field for meat,
Is slow like ticking of the clock,
The movement of his wide feet.

The wolf sees nothing that can harm,
So he trots away to search the farm,
His vision pierces through the black,
The fur does rise upon his back.

He climbs the hill at a lope,
His mind keeping one small hope,
That chickens were left out tonight,
So he may eat them if he might.

The farmer was weary from baleing hay,
He had worked and worked all the day,
And he forgot to put his fowl in,
And that was the cause of the wolf's visitin'.

Creeping so careful he rounded the shed,
He saw a great hen with a tucked head,
With a swift little pounce, he slayed her he did,
And each chicken's life he silently rid.

He ate one for himself then grabbed another two,
This is just one of these things that wolves do.
He ran to his mate as she slept in her den,
And presented to her a still warm hen.

This is the wolve's duty to do what he might,
To bring food to his mate before the light,
That is how God created this wild dog,
Who can silently stay as still as a log.