"bobcats" poems
Proudly self diagnosed as non compos mentis , the gallivanting hermetic of Hill Country , walking barefoot this evening , scantly clad , joyfully whistling beneath astonishing skies of blue , fields of clover , clear running creeks , copious woodland greenery ! A fickle , fanatical , fervent lover of every creature the forest has to offer ! Rolling hill , pasture and homestead , Wood duck , blue jay , otter and crawdad ! Every rooster , wild turkey and dairy cow ! A boisterous , benevolent , painfully reverent disciple of Earth and sky , lover of cascading brooks , placid lakes , the cool breeze , bumblebees and centipedes , bobcats and chickadees ..
Nov 23, 2015
Nov 23, 2015 at 8:02 PM UTC
I can feel the changes
You are my addiction
I used to think you're a dentist
You give me some kind of filling
I blame the way that we living
That has my feet on the edge
Nicknamed your love Wels Fargo
How I was putting in check
My friends would talk and say you weren't loyal and give it a rest
But you impress me
No need for yelling
You handle the stress
You used to handle a tech
When you were so out of place
Initials double H
So that means double hate
But all the fellas who've seen you
Knows that you keep a reliever
You've seen more L's than the bobcats arena
You keep it incognito
But you're far from a bully
When it comes to ink you're a monster
Mike wazowski and sully
You're a diamond in the rough
You have a special shine
There is no competition
You're the hottest thing out
Them others may claim you
But they know that you're mine
Girl
I'd Jehovah witness for you
I'm out here knocking doors down
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 9:20 PM UTC
It's after midnight now
I've come to howl
the words my muse
keeps in her bag
She's a blackhearted *****
with gnarly teeth
and razor thin lips to bare
She has kerosene breath
and her fingers are as cold as death
She's long desired
to catch me in bed
But I would drown in the creek
before I would be tongue bound
and give in to such an ugly witch
She plys me with liquor
He tongue is word flickered
She dances around and around
I stand but falter , and tumble on over
And she's quicker than a cat on a moth
She's licking my neck
and I shudder from cold z' over
She lays across my chest and declares
"I'll put you to test , taking all of your best"
Then she slides her hands under my shirt
Then cackling with glee
she strips down my clothes to my "T's"
So excited she trembles ecstatically
She raises her dress and sits down upon me
She screams in such delight like
two bobcats fighting at night
And I lay helpless as I stare
She moans , then groans
then short tempered yells
and many an "almost" and "Oh Oh Oh's"
Then turns soft as a quail
Her fingers now all over warm
Replacing the cackles and bows
a beautiful voice that glows
She whimpers like a puppy scorned
She's now in the buff
And little concerned
In the calm after the storm
her true beauty really shows
Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 11:19 PM UTC
In my geographic corner, where it rains most often,
when it does not, I remember you
on the face of the rocks, lightfooted on the oracles
amongst the bobcats and the butterflies
and the sunshowers like curtains from real.
Years ago, but minutes; miles, no—
I cannot deny the miles.
I open my window on this spring morning and I
taste Delphi in the air, and you,
you everywhere.
Jun 16, 2012
Jun 16, 2012 at 4:49 PM UTC
Seesaw dreams,
crocodile streams,
high beams to
low blows,
whipped cream and
curled toes.
No
nope
no, I
rescind my
dissent but will
present myself
to the door
once more.
Face meets
floor,
bobcats snore,
man beats
lore.
Coffee poured
into the seats
of a chewed up
Delorean, beauty
beats itself
brutally into the palms
of my hands.
See-through plans,
call the boys
to the stands,
bludgeoning the
fruit fly to
death with a
frying pan.
Flying garbage
cans, eat
your heart
out, eat
your heat out
gladly and
with gusto.
I must know
I must know
which way
the stars blow
through atmospheric
throws of ball
to bat,
universal yarn
to cosmic cats.
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 10:21 PM UTC
The bold waters of Indian Creek polish skipping stones , cool waters
harbor Yellow Perch and Smallmouths , all manner of aquatic fauna ..
Sand bars glisten in the afternoon light ..
A chorus of nature's musicians sing to the coming of night ...
The life current of Georgia flows along this vital artery ..
Creek Indians fished , hunted and bore testament to their precious waterway ....
Full Moons still recall the laughter of young native American children along her banks ...
The shouts of intrepid spear fishermen haunt the calm Summer air ,
twilight becoming harbinger for many a ghostly tale on beechnut silhouetted darkness , mosquito ravaged nights ....
Creek hunters running from Oak to Pine , whistling messages along the banks ... Bobcats howl on foggy Dawns while Herons hold still , forever maintain their silent watch ..
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 7:28 PM UTC
In dark and dreary Georgia swampland , in the midnight hour with the light of the Moon as your only friend .. Yellow and red eyes glow in the shadows , cottonmouths and gators slowly cross the waters ...
Bullfrogs sing in the Cattails , Horned Owls screech across the timberlands .. Bobcats scream , sound just like a woman late at night ,
they'll catch you off guard every time , make your beard turn white from fright ..Mosquitos are relentless , the humidity hell , blood ******* leeches , brown bats and rabid foxes .. Wild hogs work the bogs left and right , don't ever get caught by a razorback without a good plan or corner a 'Coon' by accident , kick a Snapper thinking it's just a rock , or pick up a Rattlesnake looking for a walkin' stick .. Rumors of black panthers and 'shine wild men ', Confederate soldier ghost and quicksand .. Always lay a trail from where you started are you'll spend all night in haunted , Georgia swamp country ...
Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 10:35 PM UTC
Oak trees, Pine trees, Cottonwoods, and Birch
Upon these trees,
birds love to perch
Birds come in all
sizes and colors
Birds calling and chirping
with all the others
Squirrels, Rabbits,
Chipmunks, and Foxes
Scatter the grounds, burrow into holes, and sometimes boxes
Winter, Spring,
Summer, and Fall
They gather thier goodies,
to survive them all
Deer, Moose, Antelope, and Elk
Wander through fields,
woods, and corn silk
Grazing on whatever
nutrition they can find
All hunkering down in these times with thier own kind
Bears, Bobcats,
Cougars, and Wolves
Hibernation, catch prey, climb and attack, the
beautiful, wild dog packs
in droves
Deep dark caves, burrowed holes in the ground,
to wandering forests, and
great big meadows
All these predators seem to come from the shadows
Waves of lavender fields of dreams, like river beds of sand
Fields of flaxen, golden grass waiving with God's hand
Daisies, Buttercups,
Rose's, and Daffodils
Just smell thier sweet scents rise into the hills
Dreams are Wishes,
Wishes are dreams
Wildlife are the makings of everything in between
Flowers are the fragrance of life
The blue skies and
white fluffs of clouds
Take away all the strife...
Oct 6, 2024
Oct 6, 2024 at 1:30 AM UTC
To lay my head upon the tawny cover of softwood pines once more
as I pry the manifest question of youthful travail and insecurity ,
to garner the earthen tier beside natures vested , rippling waters ..
Churning runnels lending delicate directions , whirlpool portrayals that countersink their matriarchal beginnings , only to gradually disappear ....
To wander the carpeted trail with arbitrary resolve , free of pious
intimidations .. Fixated with superb creativity .. With the eyes of an eagle .. Determined . Pithiest .. Invincible ..
As heat obscures the blacktop ahead , the shade of home is but a dot in the humid distance , tar laced Georgia roads in the month of August are quite dangerous to young , bare feet ...
Sorghum fields , hog wire boundaries , darkening skies ..The unbounded Sun dragging each step , briar patches line the road shoulder , painful reminders of lonely boots foolishly left unkept ...
Fire ant mounds hide in tall grass , Cow Killers forage alone in Summer swelter , brown scorpions , cottonmouths and the list goes on virtually
forever during Dog Days , legends of wounds refusing to heal , double headed rattlers and rabid foxes , Longhorn bulls turning wild , growing bloodthirsty , hunting down unwary farm hands .. Men turned lunatic
from tainted moonshine , waiting at the wood line for clumsy boys and girls , well water made septic from lack of rain .. Bobcats running in packs for any food easily obtained , including boys that refused to listen
to mother , leaving their cowboy boots when warned not to do so ... This will be the last time I'm caught barefooted , all alone , left to my own wit and minds reserve , Mom and Dad can be sure of it !
Feb 20, 2016
Feb 20, 2016 at 9:44 PM UTC
distant foothills in the pre-dawn haze
draw my memories back to youthful exuberance
pond fishing under clear sky
creak tromping in the search of the perfect agate
pockets full of jasper and quartz
as if pebbles were treasure
pleasurable day-dream
measure of peace –
wafting peppermint
transports me to a snow covered logging road
schnapps and a trap line
bobcats lured with carcasses tied to trees
scent jar in a vest pocket
and a 22 ruger on the hip
smooth clean strokes
hide on the shoulder
another carcass in a tree rinse and repeat –
long barren abandon railroad
lacking ties
lies
cinder rock sunbaked
sage and Juniper
mule deer and pronghorn
lonely cottontail narrowing avoiding
hungry coyote gaze
sunsets cast purple shadows
orange and pink streaks stretch the horizon
flat backed in green grass
smiling into infinity
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 11:57 AM UTC
I cannot state in good faith
That we were built for the human race
Who can spit and stand for that?
Bobcats and Confucians
Living through palpitations
And making love, wearing hardhats
Here’s the bran for the land
That took the bus in the freezing rain
Never planned to understand
The chastity of the impaled, all refrain
Someone must have prayed for such a fate
Curse the man who discovered that
Anyone who gives is a fading fad
Give me some empathy
Not some methamphetamine
It hurts enough to read the new design
Who wields the cannon?
And shall we give him a medallion?
Or risk a wilting, flying flag?
All grains are equal
All stain the feeble
All ride a boneless, brazen stag
Here’s the sermon in white
Clothed and baptized in grapes
Making light of the sight
That was stolen from a clothed and ragged ape
Someone must have narrowed their gate
Curse the woman who recalled
The pews as barren shower stalls
Give me an embassy
Or obsequity
Apathy straddles the razor line
Where’s the loss and who shall cross
The line of consummated minds?
Whose ink will sign the secular floss?
No one’s bred to live for death
Or bequeathed eternity
Who are we to elongate our breath?
We will pass and be past
We will pass and be past
We will pass and be past
We will pass and be past
We will pass and be past
We will pass and be past
We will pass and be past
We will pass and be past
Oct 8, 2018
Oct 8, 2018 at 9:27 AM UTC
*The Devils popping the bubble wrap
Hail is bouncing off the front door steps
Blustery tree lines wrapped in sheets of lightning
blue , rivers forming at downspouts , thunder
growing louder
Cars come to a crawl
Peace and violence are poised to draw
Suddenly showers stall , a lull ensues
Quiet resumes , the night is rescued
The treefrogs strike a tune , the June bugs swoon
The timid moon looms , the insect musicians balloon
The oboes , the clarinets , the piccolos and the cellos
Sweet voices , the harps , the guitars and the pianos
A whippoorwill calls the orchestra to order ,
the thrushes , mockingbirds , the katydids , the cricket
chorus , the coyotes , the bobcats , the hoot owls and
the sprites
The jays , the cicadas and the songsters of night
Goodbye Old Man Squall , may the creatures of the eve
now come to call , may the maidens of the forest render
ballads of rest , may the fledglings of the morrow lay
peacefully in their nest* ...
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 8:19 PM UTC
I love the country life,
in between the feral cats
and hawks.
Morning coffee March
I sip it with Irish crème and smile.
Last night I fell
asleep inside her.
Safe and sound
and domesticated in her
tight wet walls.
We came together in
determined silence.
Family in the next
room.
I love the country life;
the ponds and streams and
sun soaked meadows.
The wild asparagus and
gooseberries.
In her arms my spirit rests.
My tired wings
find a nest better
than the barn swallows,
stronger than the eagles.
I'm a brook trout
swimming through
her veins.
I love the country life.
Coonhounds and cornflowers,
coyotes yipping and
bobcats tiptoeing up on
shocked field mice.
Last night, after we died
a little in each other's arms,
I gently rubbed her
cheek and kissed her
eyelids, nose, and lips.
I breathed in deep the
smell of lavender, *** and
home, the safest
fragrance I know.
Apr 11, 2020
Apr 11, 2020 at 11:31 PM UTC
She currently
Purred Fee Vixen-facts
Dylans made Millions
She- blown off
The Catwalk
Girl-edgy talk
ekkh_ Sheik
She could
Cats Meow
any Shrink
Her alley Bistro
lego-land
That maestro
Teeth decay
Licking milk
off the
ground
Purr- payday
He's roaring
Twenty years
old Cheetah
May the force_____
Be with you
forever young
Star Wars Hans
Solo
Blowing in
the wind
Serengeti
((The Drug Catnip))
So tucked in
his Lamborghini
Paws carwash
Where is
Sponge Bob
Pixie-bob snag
All shagged
Austin Power
with Mini-me
layered bob
That Chausie
sorry
You need
to go
home
My Lassie___*
May 13, 2018
May 13, 2018 at 10:00 AM UTC
Where coyotes run and bobcats prowl,
back in the woods hear the growl,
enough to scare most people away,
but this is where I love to play.
Far from city lights and people sounds,
steel and concrete no longer surrounds,
nothing out here but trees and deer,
I'll just kick back and drink a beer.
Cooler in the shade under a tree,
dressed in camo wild and free,
roaming down where the creek runs,
watching for snakes and shooting guns.
Chopping down wood for a campfire,
picking it up avoiding green brier,
thorns so sharp they'll tear your shirt,
the crows start singing in concert.
Far from city lights and people sounds,
steel and concrete no longer surrounds,
nothing out here but trees and deer,
I'll just kick back and drink a beer.
Later on when the stars appear,
up above me the sky is clear,
the fire crackles and pops out a song,
completely relaxed where I belong.
Hanging in my hammock hear the creek talk,
in the distance, screams the night hawk,
closing my eyes and drifting to sleep,
no need to pray for my soul to keep.
Far from city lights and people sounds,
steel and concrete no longer surrounds,
nothing out here but trees and deer,
I'll just kick back and drink a beer.
Way out in the woods, nobody here,
no better place to just drink a beer.
Aug 17, 2017
Aug 17, 2017 at 6:57 PM UTC
*The bottom land was made
for slide guitar and mason jars
Water from the 'River Jordan' with
blue notes , alms for vagabonds ,
I'm quite familiar with their songs
Nor am I the first untouchable touched by
by the Live Oak riverbanks , I belong
on this bank recalling hardscrabble decades ,
a marriage without love , a thirty- eight token
from a hollow point self medicated Grandfather , Father ,
and two uncle problem solution , I dilute these memories
with Painters **** and the cold April waters of the *****
Within the mud on these two feet rest the others , reduced to
dirt and river water , fed on by trees , dung beetles , tiger mosquitoes , bobcats , snappers and coyotes
Cool topwater holding the Milky Way in her lap ,
air filled in pine sap , 'brackwater' and red mud
My cigarette , my **** , my shotgun* ..
Feb 13, 2017
Feb 13, 2017 at 7:27 PM UTC
in the photograph from the wildlife camera
she appears at dusk, side-on
her full tail in the air: the big ginger cat
from the farm next door
she is one of those puzzles you find
in newsprint books at the tobacconists
— which one of these doesn’t belong? —
because before and after her on the camera
were a mountain lion and a red fox
*Film ain’t dead yet.
We brought three
disposables to festival,
the ones that whirr up, do thirty
exposures and flash so bright they blind you.
Immortalize the medium, the moments
are secondary.
I remember Dad, toes in the sand,
shorts and his eczema legs, with the camera,
you were building castles –
the photos are somewhere. Shining
millennial baby then,
ringing me now, drunk, crying.*
i thought of the two bobcats who came
to the picture window on St. Stephen’s Day
at three o’clock in the morning
looking intently in
and the man in Finland whose dog got out:
the wolves at the forest fringe
were calling it to come and play
there was no blood, he said
the dog just disappeared into their jaws
*There was more blood, this time,
the third time, third time, that you had tried to
excommunicate
yourself from this life without consulting me.
You know, when I tried that nonsense
they dragged me
kicking and screaming to the clinic.*
still she comes around:
again this morning on the deer trail
where she sat gazing up
the jays and the blackbirds with new hatchlings
diving, exploding into the air
and her
wearing their worry and disapproval
— even, you think
their appetites and their hatred
like a bright blessing
the urgent chatter of the birds an electric hum
almost to the horizon
*Here you are again.
This last time past you were probably on drugs,
you were
vomiting adoration down the phone. Reborn?
You’re seventeen,
the black dog keeps going for your throat
but lifts you by the scruff.
I’m watching you fly up in a spray of wings,
loose feathers, high heels and lamentation.
I’m no lioness –
I’m just a fat, cool cat you think is mighty.
I surrendered to the mice though, when I
was your age.*
Jun 28, 2017
Jun 28, 2017 at 7:56 PM UTC
*She's the width of an average driveway , about a five mile walk
Lined with sugar white sand and slick creek rock
Girdled in Water Oak roots and red clay embankments , a summer quick retreat , swift running with occasional pools no deeper than
a few feet
She's teeming with small fish , tadpoles , crayfish and
mud puppies , ruddy bank boulders and thick grassy shoulders
Lined in cattail , brown eyed susie's and monkey grass
Home to cottonmouths , alligator snappers , raccoons and
opossums , king racers , swamp rabbits and cottontails ,
whitetail deer , wild hogs and bobcats and a million childhood tall tales
A sister to the South River flowing into Lake Jackson , a mother
to abundant wildlife , a brother to an inquisitive youngster* ...
Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 7:44 PM UTC
the leaves sway and catch sunlight
and i catch both against my cheek
and chase them down to my throat,
crush them into each other into me
into chamomile: a trickling summer
i drown in sword-shorn grasses and
in return for breath they write on
my skin in languages that have never
been spoken, only sung only felt
only studied with one dirt-painted
fingertip, fine hairs punctuating
pink brown imprints of trodden earth
ants count dozens of steps, climbing
the winding train tracks (and rocks
sleeping beneath) of my wrists legs
nose and untraveled stomach, and i
let them travel; let my body be gravel
become highway become interstates to
ugly and restful towns diners hotels
and even as sunlight burns my eyes
and bobcats stalk past forests beyond
the reach of my oven-warm wind-wound
open palm, ground allows its drinks to
seep into my sweatpants desert skin
and curls: an oasis i carry on my back
Jan 26, 2025
Jan 26, 2025 at 10:56 AM UTC
*Along the pine- land shoreline at the peak of Spring activity , where Captains on horseback appear at times as the warriors of Chief McIntosh cry out into the night , lavender horizons touching the rainbow woodlands , where cold chills suddenly appear in the heat of Summer , where Great Owls and Bobcats compete for the hunted
Broken earth steaming at the break of day
Where rainbows right themselves from the foggy banks ,
inspired by the first peeks of sunlight through the Oak dale
ranks* ...
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 7:18 PM UTC
He’d found himself restlessly housebound
(All men being the creators of their own comfort,
As well as the progenitors of their confinement)
And as the snow was on the lighter side,
Though tending toward the wet as well,
The type which renders the sidewalks in the town below
A bit, as the local parlance would have it, on the slippy side,
But his boots had sturdy uppers and decent tread,
And a walk this time of year less threatening than most,
What with the bobcats napping at midday
And the timber rattlers under the frost line for the winter,
The only threat to his well-being the potential discovery
Of some heretofore unseen red-ribboned stakes
Announcing the intention of some new **** fool
Who, in service of some desire to get closer to Mother Nature,
Was seeking to build in some spot
Where she offered him little more
Than a future of cracked foundations
And wind-sheared roofing misadventures.
Fortunately, his stroll was uninterrupted
By such man-made foolishness, his reverie undisturbed
Until such time as he happened upon a whitetail doe
Seemingly caught between flip and fly,
Her ilk all somewhat more comfortable
With their human counterparts
As they lived more cheek-to-jowl,
(But black-powder season had just ended a couple of days back,
So a certain skittish wariness was to be expected.)
He’d raised his hands in a gesture of what he supposed
Was non-threatening, knowing such a thing to be utter foolishness
Even as he raised his arms skyward,
But the beast backed away slowly, haltingly,
Before turning and cantering off,
And he figured that made it as good a time as any
To head back down toward the house,
Not to mention the snow had picked up in intensity,
A grainy, sleety issue which had filled in his footprints,
Leaving them barely perceptible in the waning daylight.
Jan 7, 2021
Jan 7, 2021 at 10:23 AM UTC