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SpiralDancer May 14
If you go down
in the woods

Dont go alone
Dont go alone
Better stay home today

Dont expect them to play fair
It's criminally legal

If there's a hunter
then there is hunted

If you go down
in the woods

Stay on the path
Stay on the path
It's best to stay home today

You dont stand a chance
run as fast as you can
You wont see
the end of the day

If you go down
in the woods

Cover your ears
look straight ahead
Better stay home today
Living in the countryside is lovely, until you see the hunt...
Anastasia Apr 23
run fiery creature
a small red thing
his name is simply fox
and trouble, he likes to bring
just out of his kit years
he searches for his *****
and as soon as he laid eyes on her
he knew that he was smitten
she had amber eyes and delicate paws
fur like fire and tips like gauze
as soon as he saw her his heart was aflame
he walked and they talked and he found out her name
lily was his *****, forever till the end
kisses and snuggles, his best friend
Met with a wink
And a sly smile
Her sharp eyes
Hide awhile

In the shrub
She crawls and bounds
Her paws rub
As she glides the grounds

Her red mane
Of hair and dirt
She won’t train
She won’t hurt

She bounds about
In joyous leaps
She leaves about
Every few weeks

Return she may
Or leave and go
It’s every day
I still won’t know

Yet each time
I lose my heart
She comes around
And heals it smart

She’s always there
In dusk or dawn.
She lives in trees
And all beyond

Forever may
She sail the clouds
Yet all the way
She loves me now

She tells me so
And I hear it
I love her so
I won’t forget

That she lives on
Each day and night
Beyond the stars
Within the light

Her spirit is
A strong fox jumping
And when I see her
I run, coming
sycokitten Mar 19
My little foxy
Oh all that you have taught me
Forever longing.
I used to imagine myself
As a young fox
Sleeping in a hole,
A small fenditure in the ground,
Perhaps under an old oak tree
Or maybe below the *****
Of a time-consumed hill.

That picturing of my fox-self
In his narrow hole
Always made me feel
Safe, secure and protected.
Even when the rain and the wind
Howled before my narrow refuge,
I could just lie there and be well.

But I am now enough strong
And enough content
Of myself and my life
To imagine myself
As a new kind of fox.
I am a young, proud fox,
Making my way into the world,
Smiling with a foxy grin
In face of everything.
I am strong,
I am cunning,
I am curious
And that's something
To be proud of.

I can jump,
I can run,
I can fight
I can live
Every moment
Feeling alright
And at home in the world.

I used to picture myself
As a young fox
In a small fenditure in the ground,
Seeking a warm and safe place
To rest and sleep.
But I now think that
I can be something different,
Something new:
I am now a different kind of fox.

So, I still lie in my narrow hole,
The one under the old oak
Or maybe the time-consumed *****,
But I do it with
A new sense of self
And a sardonic grin
On my foxy face.
ellie Feb 9
Like fireflies, they dance
around my head, teasing,
promising resolution.

I can't catch them,
too quick for my heavy hands.

Movement on my fingertips,
but the light dims just as fast.

Frustration closes my eyes.
Defeat sweeps my mind clean.


My eyes snap open,
The light blinding,
and finally,
pen can meet paper.
Inspired by Ted Hughes' 'Thought Fox'
As the fox watches in the bushes, He notices two frogs minding their existence.
The fox stares at the water dwellers with ill intent in his heart, but as the fox waits for a time to strike. He soon comes to realize that he would intrude upon a scene he was not meant to see. As the fox retreats from the pond, much to the dismay of his empty stomach, he finds that his companion brought something for both of them.
This poem was suggested to me by a frog lover, I'm sorry if it's not up to what you expected
Dante Jan 5
There was once a little fox who was born lame. Its brothers liked to play and bite and grow, and none of these things did the little fox care to know.
In the light of a setting sun, they ran and skipped, playing with each other’s tails. The lame little fox, healthy of body, albeit smaller than its brothers, stood by and watched. Its mother approaches it.

She sits next to it, watching the others play.
“Your brothers are almost ready for the hunt.” She begins, and the little fox looks at her.
“You will not survive.” She tells it, sparing them both the discomfort of looking a son in the eye while bearing such news.
The little fox does not cry.
“Will I die at the jaw of an animal?” He asks.
The mother does not answer.
The fox looks back at its brothers. He’s never liked playing with them much.
“If you hunt at my pace, will I slow you all down?”
“Yes. It will be your brothers who will die at the jaw of an animal then.”
The little fox looks on, and with a blink of its knowing little eye, understands.
“You are going to **** me.” it says.
“I must.”
“Then do not be kind to me in my taking. Lest I survive, run away, and come back a creature you will not recognize.“
The mother is calm, her response a knowing silence. The breeze is a sigh of fall. Winter soon approaching.
“**** me sooner rather than later.”

The little fox walks away (for they both know today is not his day) no doubt to take a nap in the family’s den.
If the little fox were to leave, thought the *****, it would leave tonight or tomorrow morning. She would strike then.

The foxes were all done with their play, and the mother sees them to their den.
“I will strike tonight” she thinks, decided. But when she arrives at the mouth of the den, among the chatter of the young babes was the fox’s absence, which could only be noticed by a loving mother’s gaze.

“Come, children.” Says the mother to her settling kits.
“Sleep now. We’ve God’s own wrath to prepare for.”
I’ve written this in such a way that it can have multiple meanings and endings. I’d love to hear anyone’s interpretations!
Kelci Dec 2019
Silent white morning
Hosts a red velvet hunter
Crimson stains the snow
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