"hoofprints" poems
I only shoot to **** my food
Not for pride or pleasure
I hunt the meat we all can eat
Not for a mantlepiece treasure
But late one night I was lying in bed
And someone was at my door
I jumped to my feet like a ninja in heat
And crawled across my floor
It was dark inside my livingroom
But I could see a silhouette
The next thing I saw took my breath
It's something I'll never forget
A deer was wearing a ski mask
His antlers poked out the top
I jumped to my feet as fast as I could
And yelled, "Bambi you better stop"
He turned around and began to charge
I screamed for my wife to get back
He pulled a knife and cut my arm
With another sneak attack
He chased me down the hallway
The bathroom my only hope
But when I tried to get inside
He lassoed me with his rope
He tied me up and robbed my house
My wife was under the bed
He went through all of our dresser drawers
Her underwear on top his head
He finally left, the house was a mess
There were hoofprints everywhere
He took the remote to our color Tv
And even our silverware
Before he left he pointed and laughed
And called me a crazy old geezer
But my wife is scared and cannot rest
Until I put him in my freezer
Aug 31, 2010
Aug 31, 2010 at 5:52 PM UTC
I only shoot to **** my food
Not for pride or pleasure
I hunt the meat we all can eat
Not for a mantlepiece treasure
But late one night I was lying in bed
And someone was at my door
I jumped to my feet like a ninja in heat
And crawled across my floor
It was dark inside my livingroom
But I could see a silhouette
The next thing I saw took my breath
It's something I'll never forget
A deer was wearing a ski mask
His antlers poked out the top
I jumped to my feet as fast as I could
And yelled, "Bambi you better stop"
He turned around and began to charge
I screamed for my wife to get back
He pulled a knife and cut my arm
With another sneak attack
He chased me down the hallway
The bathroom my only hope
But when I tried to get inside
He lassoed me with his rope
He tied me up and robbed my house
My wife was under the bed
He went through all of our dresser drawers
Her underwear on top his head
He finally left, the house was a mess
There were hoofprints everywhere
He took the remote to our color Tv
And even our silverware
Before he left he pointed and laughed
And called me a crazy old geezer
But my wife is scared and cannot rest
Until I put him in my freezer
Aug 28, 2010
Aug 28, 2010 at 2:10 AM UTC
I woke up on Christmas Eve
It was late, in the middle of the night
When I saw him under the Christmas tree
He give me such a terrible fright
I thought it was a cat burglar or something
Who was trying to steal from me
And I had a 52 inch color television
Under that Christmas tree
So I ran to the kitchen as fast as I could
To try to find me a kinife
But I just couldn't find one anywhere
Remind me to have a talk with my wife
Anyway, I grabbed up the toaster behind the bread
That was sitting on the cabinet shelf
I snuck up behind him, like a ninja in sneakers
And was planning on killing that elf
Of course I didn't know it, at the time it occurred
That the fat man, was old Santa Claus
It wouldn't have mattered to me at the time
Cause he touched my remote with his paws
I almost had him, when I heard this sound
That was coming from my very own kitchen
It was, Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, *****
Comet, Cupid, Donner and Blitzen
Those eight tiny reindeer had attacked me
I had hoofprints all over my head
And that's when the fat man in the big red suit
Turned around to me and he said
"I'm just gonna borrow your color tv,
So I can watch the football game"
"The one in my workshop is only 19 inches.
And it's just really too small and lame"
Before I could tell him to forget it buddy
I heard the sound of him slamming my door
Those eight bully reindeer had wrapped me in tinsel
And left me helpless on the livingroom floor
Well, that was the last time I saw him
And my tv was never returned
So make sure you hide your color tv's
Take it from someone who's learned
Apr 15, 2010
Apr 15, 2010 at 11:36 AM UTC
I woke up early on Christmas Eve
It was late, in the middle of the night
When I saw him under the Christmas tree
He give me such a terrible fright
I thought it must be a cat burglar
Who was trying to steal from me
And I had a fifty-two inch color television
Under that Christmas tree
So I ran to the kitchen as fast as I could
To try to find me a kinife
But I just couldn't find one anywhere
Remind me to have a talk with my wife
Anyway, I grabbed up the toaster behind the bread
That was sitting on the cabinet shelf
I snuck up behind him, like a ninja in sneakers
And was planning on killing that elf
Of course I didn't know it, at the time it occurred
That the fat man, was old Santa Claus
It wouldn't have mattered to me at all
Cause he touched my remote with his paws
I almost had him, when I heard this sound
That was coming from my very own kitchen
It was, Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, *****
Comet, Cupid, Donner and Blitzen
Those eight tiny reindeer had attacked me
I had hoofprints all over my head
And that's when the fat man in the big red suit
Turned around to me and said
"I'm just gonna borrow your color tv,
So I can watch the football game"
"The one in my workshop is only nineteen inches,
And it's really too small and lame"
Before I could tell him to forget it buddy
I heard the sound of him slamming my door
Those eight bully reindeer had wrapped me in tinsel
And left me helpless on the livingroom floor
Well, that was the last time I saw him
And my tv was never returned
So make sure you hide your color tv's
Take it from someone who's learned
Nov 30, 2010
Nov 30, 2010 at 10:13 AM UTC
Tonight I chose a path, followed to its end and it was
Closed off
Kept driving down the road, to find another way
Evening air burned sweet as incense over the green water,
Clear and cold snow run-off, up in the mountains
Where otters made their play
A hummingbird came to say hello, singing in my hair as I
Shook my head around to see it, retreating and returning
My car died, I just lay in the sand
Sticking my toes in
That river running down, if I could only bear it
I'd slip into its current, grow leathery fins,
Oh I'd never go back, but for the memory
Across the way, heavy with trees and a rock face
Scorched by fires of travelers passed by
There are antlers, elk and such, oft in the forest
Their hoofprints in the beach I walk
My toes trailing across the rocks, fingers trailing wind
A small stone, caught up from the water, gleaming emerald,
Pocketed
I wish you'd come dream here with me
For I fear it's all just a dream within my head
May 20, 2017
May 20, 2017 at 4:36 PM UTC
Two horses galloping on sun-kissed plains
Hoofprints on roses
Hoofprints rippling surface of quiet lake
Hoofprints carve your name on yonder moon
Because we’ve been everywhere, and I was everywhere with you
Are your fingerprints on the back of my hand?
Must I be careful not to touch someone new, lest they know you’ve been there?
Would they tremble in fear?
Such love! They would say. It burns bright even in dying!
I needn’t fear such things. I’ll never touch another.
Should I cry? Would tears express such sorrows?
If I were to bring peace to the world, would I ever find my own? Such sorrow.
With such sorrow, would ****** sate the wound? Worlds reduced to graves and still sorrow lingers.
Such sorrow must burn away of its own ilk.
Better to have loved then lost? Better not to have loved you, at least.
I laugh.
The miles between us were a drop in the ocean. Truly, they were.
I can't get far enough from the memory of us... because I am the moon upon which your name was carved.
May 9, 2017
May 9, 2017 at 9:28 PM UTC
*My thoughts became a ball
bouncing over preordained dialog
shuffling from end to end
leaving hoofprints condemned
A scattershot of expression
tickling the back of my skull
For the sentences I spoke
fell from my mouth
like a rabid dog dripped foam
and within hung the beat
of a foolish man's sunken soul*
May 12, 2016
May 12, 2016 at 9:11 PM UTC
Look at the sphere –
which astronomers say is no sphere at all.
Not halfway between ourselves and the edge of space.
Blue with the ancient gasses that cling to its massive ribs.
Blue with the dissent of that atmosphere to sunlight.
Flat, a little, at the poles, teetering
white into the void.
Strewn with latitudes and the wakes of ships.
It is green, except where it is not.
It is dusted with the tread of angels
commingled with the hoofprints of stags.
It is only as wide as you can hold in your eye.
A succession of names is written on the pedestal.
Each, for a moment, watched night crawl across a peninsula;
saw countries form, shine and pass out of being,
smiles at a distant stranger.
Spin it lightly, with just your fingertips, and listen to the air moving over it.
Nobody is here, and the final name is yours.
First you will come to know your voice.
Then you can begin to name the animals.
May 15, 2022
May 15, 2022 at 2:04 AM UTC
The bridge is still bouncy
The water calm and clear
Horses’ hoofprints churned the grass
Bright yellow star-shaped Celandine
Bluebells and Wood Sorrel
Shoals of fish
Delighting people
Apr 21, 2017
Apr 21, 2017 at 6:22 AM UTC
The bridge is still bouncy
The water calm and clear
Horses’ hoofprints churned the grass
Bright yellow star-shaped Cellandine
Bluebells and wood sorrel
Shoals of fish
Delighting people
Maggie Sorbie
Apr 21, 2017
Apr 21, 2017 at 6:16 AM UTC