"amur" poems
Amur leopards
Blue-green eyes, soft sleek spotted fur
Amur leopards
victims of man's greed intrepid
to show off coats for him and her.
Stop the hunting, help save for sure
Amur leopards
Aug 8, 2015
Aug 8, 2015 at 8:52 PM UTC
****** Mother Nature
As rain forests dwindle,
and skyscrapers grow,
we leave those who co habit
with nowhere to go...
Sweet indigenious song birds,
all turned off one by one
as we bulldoze the trees
where they once raised their young...
Stealing land from these creatures
in each and every direction
as we drive them all closer
to their own mass extinction...
there'll be uproar of course
when the last one is gone,
but this course of destruction
seems to just carry on...
In Asia the Tiger's
now on it's last legs,
hunted down for it's fur
and it's teeth ground to dregs,
The Bali and Caspian
are both sadly gone,
a mere five thousand Bengals
till they too follow on...
Just five hundred Sumatrans,
a last thirty Chinese,
then this beautiful Feline
will just cease to be...
There'll be uproar of course
when the last one is gone,
but our blood thirsty onslaught
will just carry on
Amur Leopards in Russia,
Jaguars in Brazil,
being wiped from the Earth
as we **** and we ****
Silvery Gibbons in Java,
Hynobius in Japan,
on and on goes the culling
of one and all except Man...
Polluting the rivers,
over fishing the seas,
as we spread and infest,
like a fatal disease,
yeah there's uproar of course
at this ill being done,
dusty crocodile tears
as we still carry on...
For an epitaph we'll have
as our only distinction,
that we were the cause
of Earths sixth mass extinction,
not a meteor smashing
from high outer space,
just a cancerous growth
called the inHuman race...
That we ravaged the planet
and drank it's well dry,
how we ripped out the goodness
and left it to die,
how there'd been a huge uproar
as they fell one by one,
how we ***** Mother Nature...
how
we
just
carried
on...
©HaroldRizla
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 3:23 AM UTC
I
If I were a poet
I would compose beautiful line
breaks and elegant stanzas.
Similes would be ******** scattered
with alliteration like
stars against a sunset sky.
My tone would be of reason
rather than innocence.
I would refuse to analyze
the meaning of death in literature.
II
Fortune cookies would be my mantra
and life would be a wiggle
instead of a struggle.
I would pray five times a day
to my journal
most benevolent, ever-merciful.
My poems would not be of peace
of war
or (you)nity
or them here Amur'cans.
III
My form would be indifferent
and probably never earn me awards
or acceptance to grad school.
Fondness of (parentheses)
may get me compared to e.e. cummings
or completely dismissed
if I were a poet.
Nov 15, 2011
Nov 15, 2011 at 11:49 AM UTC
From the Sikhote Alin Mountain,
I gaze at my world coming to an end.
I feel the sharp spear
peirce my brother's heart.
Blood trickles from my sister's mouth and
I taste its unwanted metallic zest.
The strench of Amur Basin burning
fills my nostrils, telling me my time
is limited. I pace, awaiting my poachers,
killers stained with the last
essence of my family.
This destruction of my kind hurts my soul,
but I stand to fight in the name of Amur.
As my band of enemies approach,
I summon the inner spirit and my
roar blankets the mountain air.
I feel my ancestors with me and
charge with the force of a thousand
tigers to my certain death.
The final battle begins.
Jul 6, 2015
Jul 6, 2015 at 3:06 PM UTC
.
Ivory
Billed Wood
pecker Amur
Leopard Javan
R h i n o cer o s
Northern Sport
Lemur N o r t h
ern Right Whal
e The S a o l a-
Asian Unicorn
L e a t h erback
S e a T u r t l e
Siberia T i g e r Chinese G i a n t
S a l a m a n d e r
T h e L I t t l e D o d o B i r d
A m e r i c a n D I c k
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 2:54 PM UTC
*Sitting in a yard with my eyes closed
My pen's nib on the table waiting
For the outflow of words
A humming of folk song
Woke me from my thought
Wooing me towards her
A captivating beauty moving forward
In a slow folksy feminine way
She was in a black frock
With coppery brown coat
Her alluring ruby-red eyes
Giving me a glance to follow her
Reached a small Amur maple tree
Where her Beloved waiting
For his black and brown beauty
Welcoming her with his love
Disguised beauty flew away
From my lustful sight
The appealing crow pheasant
Holding hands sat on a branch
Hearing their song of duet
Putting my head down with dismay
Back to my seat with her thoughts!*
Sep 3, 2016
Sep 3, 2016 at 10:28 AM UTC