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"kestral" poems
Evening meadow in November Glowing in sun's golden ember Wind whispers in the grasses Kestral screeching as he passes Giant storm clouds in the distance But above my head the sky is clear Birds singing in persistance Calling for the attention of my ear
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Apr 14, 2012
Apr 14, 2012 at 12:41 AM UTC
Evening Meadow
Across the blistered gibber plain where flies die in the sand Through swamps of prickly sago where rotting death is planned, To stride in windblown tussock hills where wind vanes carved their say To saunter groves of green tree fern where moa giants did play. In clearings cut with alkali, tusked elephant would loom With crevassed hides, Methuselah, once aged in terms of doom. Whilst high above the rocky crags of ancient mountain high, The keening screech of kestral soaring up to deep blue sky. Heavy boots in crusted sand where tiny lizards flee Amidst the rust red rubble of volcanic rock and scree, To clamber up the ignimbrite, great Vulcan's steps of stone, Encrusted with thick epiphyte in lichen's mossy home. Up into the altitude where dark cloud clusters here And the threat of rolling thunder indicates that rain is near, Torrential in it's downpour with sudden squall of gale Surmounted, all quite suddenly, with a blinding blast of hail. Staggering to shelter in a tiny alpine hut To find hot coffee on the woodstove and a curvy, hot young **** To find us frollicking together beneath a patterned patchwork quilt Was quite beyond my imagination's comprehensions built? And afterwards in slumber through the curtains of our room I watched, in fascination, at a hanging, frozen moon And wondered, in amazement, at the doings of the day And speculated, sleepily, where tomorrow's prospects lay. Blearily I stretch out from the covers, nicely warm To nullify persistence of that alarm's intruding horn, Yawning into morning I remove myself from bed With panicked realisation....all dreams evacuate my head. Vanished are the alpine hut, the dolly bird, the caves The crash of rolling thunder and the plunge of mighty waves, Gone are those phantoms which dwelt inside my mind Devestatingly dismissed until re-dreamed another time. M. Pukehana Paradise 13 December 2014
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Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 10:09 PM UTC
Adventures of a Sweet Dreamer
Across the blistered gibber plain where flies die in the sand Through swamps of prickly sago where rotting death is planned, To stride in windblown tussock hills where wind vanes carved their say To saunter groves of green tree fern where moa giants did play. In clearings cut with alkali, tusked elephant would loom With crevassed hides, Methuselah, once aged in terms of doom. Whilst high above the rocky crags of ancient mountain high, The keening screech of kestral soaring up to deep blue sky. Heavy boots in crusted sand where tiny lizards flee Amidst the rust red rubble of volcanic rock and scree, To clamber up the ignimbrite, great Vulcan's steps of stone, Encrusted with thick epiphyte in lichen's mossy home. Up into the altitude where dark cloud clusters here And the threat of rolling thunder indicates that rain is near, Torrential in it's downpour with sudden squall of gale Surmounted, all quite suddenly, with a blinding blast of hail. Staggering to shelter in a tiny alpine hut To find hot coffee on the woodstove and a curvy, hot young **** To find us frollicking together beneath a patterned patchwork quilt Was quite beyond my imagination's comprehensions built? And afterwards in slumber through the curtains of our room I watched, in fascination, at a hanging, frozen moon And wondered, in amazement, at the doings of the day And speculated, sleepily, where tomorrow's prospects lay. Blearily I stretch out from the covers, nicely warm To nullify persistence of that alarm's intruding horn, Yawning into morning I remove myself from bed With panicked realisation....all dreams evacuate my head. Vanished are the alpine hut, the dolly bird, the caves The crash of rolling thunder and the plunge of mighty waves, Gone are those phantoms which dwelt inside my mind Devestatingly dismissed until re-dreamed another time. M. Pukehana Paradise 13 December 2014
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i took a walk today along a nature trail there i saw a pheasent with a lovely colored tail there were blues and greens and a shade of red with a little crest stuck upon his head. further down the road high up in the sky i saw little kestral as he was flying bye flying round in circles looking for his prey he did a mighty swoop and took his prey away. then i saw a squirrel having lots of fun jumping tree to tree in the midday sun he had a bushy tail as lovely as can be he was very funny and brought a smile to me. it made me feel so peaceful. brought joy to my soul now i feel so glad i took my nature stroll
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May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 1:51 PM UTC
nature stroll
there was a little kestrel a little bird of prey he would chase his food thats how he spent his day flying round the fields with his beady eye till he found his bait then drop down from the sky he was very fast and like the speed of sound grabbing at his kill that was running on the ground then when he got tired he would take a rest he would fall asleep inside his little nest
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Dec 16, 2013
Dec 16, 2013 at 8:56 AM UTC
little kestral
Watching with bird pride Working the cliff-side Looking for noon fare, Freezing in mid-air Hovering, sharp-eyed Swooping, he nose-dived Spreading a wide wing Sweeping, his claws cling Avoiding a sharp beak Emitting a high squeak Running, a small shrew Avoiding the next cue Missing , the bird soared Pulsating, his eyes bored Trailing the same line Waiting for next time. Predatory Kestral Doing his best.
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Oct 4, 2016
Oct 4, 2016 at 5:15 PM UTC
Doing His Best