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Marshal Gebbie Jul 2012
Screaming rage, the old pachyderm charges hard
Scattering predators away from the ravaged corpse of her fallen friend

The carnivorous stork and vulture cloud simultaneously take startled flight & retreat raggedly to the nearest dead tree, there to turn and glare with accusing eyes and cawing clamour. The hyenas and jackals scatter from the stinking cavernous maw of abdomen and scramble for the cover of thorn bush perimeter. Their hideous cackle and yapping adding to the cocophany of the noisy horror in this small, dry and dusty African drama.

Wheeling about the old cow surveys the clearing and, satisfied she has seen the vile things off, turns back to her fallen friend, shuffling through the thick white dust, she stands close by protecting.

Unfurling her massive trunk, she gently wraps it's sensitive tip around the scarred tusk of her fallen companion...and standing there, In a long, long sentinel silence...she remembers.......

Standing flank to flank in waters
Cooling spray upon the hide,
Trunks entwined to rumbled chortle
Bull and cow and calf abide.
Striding through the Serengetti
Grasses tall and sweet and green,
Grazing in this luscious plenty
Happiness in joy unseen.


New born calf cavorts, unsteady
Laughing at her rubber legs,
Keep a watch for lion menace
Always lurking for the dregs.
Cow to cow companionship
Builds the basis of the herd,
One reliant on the other
Cuddly calf to bull absurd.


Sunset on the far horizon
Golden glow across the plain,
Trekking for the waterhole
Through acacia tree domain.
Zebra throng with wilderbeast,
Quail and guinea fowl
Run through grasses long and brown
But leopard on the prowl.


Fun time with marula berries
Dropping from the trees like rain,
Staggering drunk pachyderms
Fall about but feel no pain.
Violence in defensiveness
Circled by enormous rage
Calves protected safe within
Roaring lioness engaged.


Quiet of the evening air
A stillness in the herd
Affection of companionship
'Twixt leather hides doth gird.
Companions together
The wise and the sage,
Companions endureth
Through an elephant's old age.


Kilamanjaro crowned with snow
Though plains are cracked and dry,
Prolonged drought has taken toll
And many creatures die.
Trekking from dry waterhole
A million dusty miles
To find the next one caked with salt
Enough to make you cry.


And when the cloud of death descends
A pachyderm must cry
For the memory of companion
Will bring a sadness to the eye.
Remembering their sister ship
Remembering their pain
Remembering shared elephant-ness
Brings good recall again.


Reluctantly a parting made
And fond and distant memories burn,
The taste of Africa prevails
As  skulking, predators return.




Marshalg
22 July 2012

© 2012 Marshal Gebbie
Madisen Kuhn Aug 2013
Time isn't wasted at the end of the day
When you're in bed thinking about all the things
You could've done,
You could've said,
All the empty boxes left on your to do list

Time is wasted
When you're standing on a rock at the edge of a waterhole
And decide to not jump
When you're sitting in your car trying to justify reasons
For not going in
When you anxiously hit backspace
Instead of expressing how you truly feel
When you ignore your heart that's screaming
"You deserve better."

It's lost in I could have and I should have,
In missed opportunities,
In letting fears override judgement

Time is not necessarily wasted
In passing minutes, months, years
We waste time by
Counting seconds,
And by letting seconds pass
When we could've made
Those seconds count
Oh there once was a swagman camped in the  billabong,
  Under the shade of a Coolabah tree;
And he sang as he looked at his old billy boiling
  "Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me."

  Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda, my darling.
    Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me.
  Waltzing Matilda and leading a water-bag —
    Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me.

Down came a jumbuck to drink at the waterhole,
  Up jumped the swagman and grabbed him in glee;
And he sang as he stowed him away in his tucker-bag,
  "You'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me."

  Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda, my darling.
    Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me.
  Waltzing Matilda and leading a water-bag —
    Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me.

Down came the squatter a-riding his thoroughbred;
  Down came policemen — one, two, and three.
"Whose is the jumbuck you've got in the tucker-bag?
  You'll come a-waltzing Matilda with we."

  Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda, my darling.
    Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me.
  Waltzing Matilda and leading a water-bag —
    Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me.

But the swagman, he up and he jumped in the waterhole,
  Drowning himself by the Coolabah tree;
And his ghost may be heard as it sings in the billabong
  "Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me?"

  Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda, my darling.
    Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me.
  Waltzing Matilda and leading a water-bag.
    Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me
Vicki Kralapp  Aug 2012
GENE POOL
Vicki Kralapp Aug 2012
Leaches and bloodsuckers all!
Parasites to our hearts and minds,
diseased by location encircling a waterhole.

I’m done with this, gone to future dreams overdue for life,
shedding years of hopeless frustration
as others wallow in their ignorance.

Sickness deepen as their pool thickens.  
New life drains away
running for its existence toward light and hope.

Leaches and bloodsuckers all!
They drain us of lifeblood and energy.
One more waterhole and gene pool;
a cycle without end and death to all who stay.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
mûre  Apr 2013
Fallen Mentor
mûre Apr 2013
Get out. Get out of here.
If anybody poisoned the waterhole
it was certainly you.
Put the squish of your smile away
Why sheaf the knife in a lipsticked rictus
if it's going to end up in my back all the same?
Oh, spare me the theatrics.
If you only mean me harm
I'd rather know.
So that I can curtsey
and take the high road.
Mentor, if you taught me anything
during that winter
it was not to be weak.
And so you have my best regards.
And now you may get out.
JeanlBouwer Oct 2010
I must feed today
Feed, this lust, for pray
In my lair, I can not stay
Give me flesh with which to play
Soft throat with veins so frai
Fountain so thick, while life I drai
Give it to me, on a tray
The lazy, weak, naïve, ignorant, and grey
For one of you, I am the demon today
But I need this, before I can lay

A last look at my young, so small
Out from my lair I crawl
Into jungle so dense and tall
Near waterhole, my pray will sprawl
Oooh yes, that’s their call
Silently unsuspicious the closer I crawl
Wait caution now, for one stare and stall
I trust, my camouflage will stifle warning call
Closer and closer to herd I crawl
Now, herd in waterhole’s enthrall

I select my pray for the night
Rather at the back, just out of sight
Yes, this one will not fight
I must wait, there’s chance for flight
Take another sip, that’s right
Your senses will dim, more then slight
Now, the time is right
I pounce on him with all my might
“Hallo I’m Angel, how are you doing tonight?”
“It’s only $ 100 for the night”
Sawyer Gowans  Jul 2013
Stallion
Sawyer Gowans Jul 2013
Young, strong, And eager. The stallion drinks of the blue green waters. Ripples of tranquility lapping over him. He drinks in this new place, so fond of feelings that coarse through him. So fond of the peace that encircles this land.

Young, beautiful, And pure. The rider slides from atop her stallion. She lands softly, her feet sticking, catching her as they have countless times before. She ties her stallion to the old post and kneels drinking of the mesmerizing waters herself. She stands and fades off, exploring the beauty of the place.

Old, tired, And lonesome. A dusty scene materializes. A dried up waterhole left battered by the prying hands of time. Buzzards sit picking apart the final remains of a frail skeleton, still shackled to the old post he once knew well. The last drop of murky grey water sits beside a pair of one way tracks, laid down years ago.

Beauty comes and beauty grows but in time the dust will always blow.
Rob Sandman Mar 2016
Killers Concept by Jay Byrne and Mr.Sandman
Clear text= Jay Byrne slanted =Mr Sandman
_

Effective, efficient killer. Subjectively no-one iller.
Go check on the web. It's near ya. I'm watchin' all the time.
Instinctively people fear. Steadily drawing near.
Surreptitious and vicious. Come in my parlour. It's fine.
Got a vast network, in the middle I stand.
Check your pheremone signature. The tremor in the sand.
Night vision. Incisions with terrifying precision.
But notwithstanding derision. My kin is older than man.
In the shadows of your mind you'll find me there waitin'.
Behind my cold eyes resides a saints patience.
While you work I lurk in recesses dark.
Park your car, I'm there. (Where ?) Right there in the back.
Then I invade your home for my own selfish game.
I'm not to blame. Nature made me this way.
Killer born. Deal death everyday.
Ask your children who they fear. Hear them whisper my name.


Cos' I'm a killer. Steal life as a matter of fact.
A killer. No knife, sail a different tack.
Cos' I'm a killer. One calling but I do it so well.
I'm the fell one, run from the funeral bell.


you may **** when I attack,but I attack you in waves,
Stalin to ****** all pale,I've filled BILLIONS of graves,
may not look it but stuck it I put it right in your veins,
start to cough?,losing weight,in 3 weeks your remains,
are buried deep,your kin weep,while the wolf among sheep,
floats in a stagnant pond sniffin' for the time to release,
cause I can taste your breath,then visit bringing you death,
and all you think is "what a nuisance",get the paper and smack!,
you're too late,you met fate and didn't know you've been killed,
a little while and you'll be sufferin the fever and chills,
your blood boils with my my gifts,I deliver with style,
number one cause of death from Amazon to the Nile,
so while you think you top the food chain, feelin' smug,
I'm the flying Vampire who kills while suckin' your blood,
I'll take you back to the mud,as I have always done,
not a buzzin' noisy nuisance-I'm Killer number one


A cold killer. Steal life as a matter of fact,
yeah,A killer. No knife, sail a different tack,
A real Killer,One calling but I do it so well.
I'm the fell one,run from the funeral bell


I see you step closer.You don't see me.
My reptilian form, waterborne, glides effortlessly.
Cautiously you approach the lake.
No wake trails me. You're mine to take.

I made a **** and I fed well,it's time to drink,
orange and black striped terrible beauty slinks,
down to the water sniffing cautiously,but no fear,
cause I'm the Apex Killer"sniff"no enemy near
...

Black eyes peer. Movin' closer still.
No crocodile tears here, I'm movin' in for the ****.,

I chill-freeze hackles up,blend into the trees,
circlin the waterhole,was that a scent on the breeze?


Pretty please, pretty pussycat, pad this way.
Tread light. Now I strike all teeth and spray.

ancient enemy comes,fill my lungs,
roar and lunge,take the plunge,now who's gonna be lunch?


*Cause we're Killers,steal life as a matter of fact,
natural Killers no knife sail a different tack,
the feared Killers,one calling but we do it so well,
we're the fell ones,run from the funeral bell!
One of the many Duo Rhymes from myself and Jay Byrne.
The parched earth echoed the wails for the dead
as flames devoured the crowd of corpses
mouth agape with unquenched thirst.

The sky had mercilessly looked away
having spit fire on them down below
sparing not one waterhole on its way
and the mother if only she could
use her tears for the baby to drink
but her eyes had turned dry as the earth.

Yet dark as the depth of love
the King's pond mirrored the princess' face
and would still beam the moon in her eyes
strangely hiding from the wrath of the drought.

One night sleeping on her ivory bed
her silken skin cooled with rosewater
the princess heard a voice:

When the fury of God
blinds him to the pains of men
an angel rises to break his heart
stakes her life to rend heaven apart
so his tears on earth fall as rain.


The windless night was deadly quiet
watched by moon in awe wide eyed
the trees sparkled in firefly's light
when the princess stood by the pond's side.

For awhile her eyes roamed around
resting on the marble's gleam
the sleeping grass her sweet playground
a home smelling all earthly dream.

She felt like swimming through the air
love glowing warm in her peaceful eyes
till she reached the end of stairs
that bore her frame with deep sighs.

The heaven broke down with thunderous rain
the seeds sprouted filled field with green
upon that land wasn't a drought again
never before had such harvest been seen.

In the depth of night if you hear a cry
from the clouds pearly by dawn's embrace
know God's tears will fall from the sky
as dewdrops mourning the rain princess.
Terry Collett May 2013
They must be
A couple
Of right *******
To ill threat

The young man so;
One blonde,
One brunette,
Thinking themselves,

No doubt,
God’s gift,
Gift of the gab
More like,

Strutting their
Henhouse tracks
With feathers
Prim and proper

They like to think.
Smell the perfume stink,
The eyelids painted,
Nails clipped

And primed,
Tongues wagging,
Like tails of *******
On full heat.  

Karma has its way
Of making things
Right in the end.
Sufficient lies

To hang themselves
Given time, enough
Tall tales to drown in
Like plump frogs

Caught out
In the last fast
Downpour.
Like snakes

They spit their
Joined venom;
Like snakes
They prefer

The long grass;
How each of them
Moves like a hippo
To the waterhole,

Each with their
Swaying fat ***.
JeanlBouwer  Oct 2010
WALKABOUT
JeanlBouwer Oct 2010
Walkabout started, in wilderness so bare
With no tracks, roads, homes nor cities in stare
Sticks and stones from my body, did tare
On horizon, welcome glitter of water’s glare
A sense of someone, something’s care
Cool, refreshing, revitalizing there’s no compare
From waterhole a single track, to sun’s lair

This narrow single track, evidence left by life
This road I follow, with mind set blithe
Into thick dark bushes, overgrown and rife
Thorns, cutting and tarring at my life
Pain and anguish, remind me, of life
I turn and look, at the ordeal, I survive
Following track, at cross road I arrive

Any one of four, to go
Back, I do not want to go
Right, a valley below
Left, more rocks and bushes on show
In front, a rainbow
The bow, proof of life bestow
I venture ahead, toward life’s flow

The single track, joined by another
A partnership, parallel to each other
Never did they join, in future
Along these tracks, I venture
These tracks, by contrast a pleasure
If cuts and bruises, the measure
My time on these tracks, I did treasure

Progress, tracks transformed to gravel way
I pass a house, where family could stay
I stopped, turned, looked and walked away
My essence, did not allow me to stray
“It’s not your destiny”, I heard the elders say
Discouraged disappointed lost, I started to pray
Again, a rainbow appeared, to point the way

As gravel way change, to road of tar
On the horizon, the evening star
Inviting noises and lights, of nearby bar
A lady, offer me a ride, with her in car
Voices of the elders, “You’ve already come this far”
If I quit now, this entire journey I did mar
With rainbow gone, I follow morning star


As road of tar, turn to gravel
I stop, turn and stare, with look of baffle
How can people be so concerned with trivial?
Can a single place, contain all that evil
Everyone treated, according to given label
I travel for myself, not to create a fable
In front of me, the rising sun marvel

Gravel road, turn twin track
As I put the city’s madness, to my back
The sun’s lair again my tack
My walk, more determined, there’s no turning back
Lessons learned and experiences stacked
For the remainder, there’s nothing I lack
This easy going, balance the rack

As one track, disappear
In my hand, I catch a joyful tear
Gone the lonely and disillusioned fear
To me, everything is no so clear
I shout out, in joyful cheer
This walk, empowered me to steer
I look to the future, through eyes so pure

I stroll into the wilderness, without a care
No more burdens, to bear
From me, all doubt was tare
In life, awaits no more scare
In front of me, a canvas made bare
A bright colorful future, in my stare
A future, with golden silver glare
When I was a child… I was fascinated by the sensation of sitting at the bottom of the swimming pool …the drains tug on the liquid landscape that surrounded me…the world dancing around me in slow motion…an eerie glow cast upon everything that was habitually familiar…the clouds distortion barely visible through the swaying waters above…it was …somehow…comfort …in the sweetest sense…perhaps it was some primal, original dance as if in the womb…as if housed once more within the shelter of maternal delight …such a soothing salve of pacification has seemed elusive as life has stirred  me from my waterhole of non-want, non-need…non-fear…into the astounding, deafening, calamity that existence can become…I have found myself searching frantically for the drain…for the hush…for the waters edge and quickly the murky bottoms comforting escape…cradled, calmed, wooed by the silent caress of peace upon my skin…   silence, stillness …immobile tranquility…for all of it's loveliness, allure, charm…it has indeed unfolded in my more developed endeavors as …escapism…diversion…dodging…so very simplistic when compared to the mishaps and misfortunes that must be faced at times…I find myself  rising  from the depths of security  and ascending… gasping for breath at the surface of my life…

able to…

ready to….

scared to death to…..

move forward……

the difference?...Willing to…
© Nancy McGinnis - Roberts 2013

— The End —