"springbok" poems - Hello Poetry

*A coarse, yellow coat with dark spot aplenty Lean as a greyhound with limb long and lengthy, Faster than hare from a cold standing start Impossibly glimpsed in tall grasses that part. Crystaline jewels in two huge hazel eyes With the svelt of a feline’s cold killing surprise, Explosively quick with an elegant gait And a murderous jaw full of canines that wait For a fleeing gazelle or a springbok at speed Then a launch that would emulate bullet, when freed. Incredibly smooth with a fast loping stride That would tax any racehorse an envious ride, Snapping manouvers to left and to right That mirror a quarry’s evasions of flight. A blur in a frantic explosion of dust Then the life blood erupts, splashing red as the rust. Heaving great flanks after thrill of the chase Wide open muzzle and gore on the face, Guarding the game till the kittens locate Then the spoils of the chase will make portions dictate.* Marshalg Serengetti Plain Central Africa 30 November 2012

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Nov 29, 2012

Nov 29, 2012 at 5:46 PM UTC

marshal-gebbie

Cheetah

*A coarse, yellow coat with dark spot aplenty Lean as a greyhound with limb long and lengthy, Faster than hare from a cold standing start Impossibly glimpsed in tall grasses that part. Crystaline jewels in two huge hazel eyes With the svelt of a feline’s cold killing surprise, Explosively quick with an elegant gait And a murderous jaw full of canines that wait For a fleeing gazelle or a springbok at speed Then a launch that would emulate bullet, when freed. Incredibly smooth with a fast loping stride That would tax any racehorse an envious ride, Snapping manouvers to left and to right That mirror a quarry’s evasions of flight. A blur in a frantic explosion of dust Then the life blood erupts, splashing red as the rust. Heaving great flanks after thrill of the chase Wide open muzzle and gore on the face, Guarding the game till the kittens locate Then the spoils of the chase will make portions dictate.* Marshalg Serengetti Plain Central Africa 30 November 2012

24

So I'll have mine and you'll have yours? who could ask for anything more! grey beards march the union jack build a wall and send them back! Grudge, sludge a sanguine view ****** off and take the cue hide, plunge aristocrat run the field like an old tom cat Narrow pass and capital flow falling crude and currency woe deep depression, mutineers the mastermind of project fear! Silver spoon at Hampton court madness waits in Davenport divisible and off the grid **** it up 100 quid Helen’s horsemen unified the springbok club will never hide plebiscite in deep despair an open scroll Trafalgar square Grapple, grovel sentry shame along the shore of river Thames king of wankers lord of beat break the rule of old elite! Stone the posse bullets bare load the chambers fists in air voices, faces haunted souls… should i stay or should i go?

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Jan 15, 2017

Jan 15, 2017 at 2:21 PM UTC

ck-baker

Maastricht Interpretations

So I'll have mine and you'll have yours? who could ask for anything more! grey beards march the union jack build a wall and send them back! Grudge, sludge a sanguine view ****** off and take the cue hide, plunge aristocrat run the field like an old tom cat Narrow pass and capital flow falling crude and currency woe deep depression, mutineers the mastermind of project fear! Silver spoon at Hampton court madness waits in Davenport divisible and off the grid **** it up 100 quid Helen’s horsemen unified the springbok club will never hide plebiscite in deep despair an open scroll Trafalgar square Grapple, grovel sentry shame along the shore of river Thames king of wankers lord of beat break the rule of old elite! Stone the posse bullets bare load the chambers fists in air voices, faces haunted souls… should i stay or should i go?

56

This desert is our life. From the dry earth we gather roots and melons. Over the endless sands we hunt the gemsbok and the springbok. Sometimes the ga roots are shriveled and bitter. Sometimes men are sick with thirst and hunger. When there is water we drink and sing and clap our hands. When there is food we eat and dance and clap our hands. The eland does not come to us and ask to be eaten -- one must know how to make the arrow and poison it and where to look and how to hide and shoot. . . . What man is so foolish as to expect more? To expect the rain to be always falling, his eggs full of water and his stomach full of meat? You have strong animals to carry you. You have much food and water. Your digging sticks are hard and sharp. Your shooting-sticks are like lightning. You are a powerful man and a good man. I can see that in your eyes. But what you offer is a dream. You can give us water and meat. You can fill our hands with tobacco and perfect beads. But you cannot give us happiness. A man can only drink so much and then he is full. If a man is always eating honey, he tires of it and becomes sick. And even if all life were sweet -- what man is not food for lions and dogs? A man who has tasted in his life no bitterness will find death very bitter. My mouth longs for sweetness but sweetness brings bitterness and in the end they are one. So I ask you: Take your digging sticks and your shooting-sticks. And do not leave them behind. Go to the green lands you came from. We shall walk in this desert as we always have.

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Dec 24, 2018

Dec 24, 2018 at 9:58 AM UTC

lucius-furius

The Bushman Speaks

This desert is our life. From the dry earth we gather roots and melons. Over the endless sands we hunt the gemsbok and the springbok. Sometimes the ga roots are shriveled and bitter. Sometimes men are sick with thirst and hunger. When there is water we drink and sing and clap our hands. When there is food we eat and dance and clap our hands. The eland does not come to us and ask to be eaten -- one must know how to make the arrow and poison it and where to look and how to hide and shoot. . . . What man is so foolish as to expect more? To expect the rain to be always falling, his eggs full of water and his stomach full of meat? You have strong animals to carry you. You have much food and water. Your digging sticks are hard and sharp. Your shooting-sticks are like lightning. You are a powerful man and a good man. I can see that in your eyes. But what you offer is a dream. You can give us water and meat. You can fill our hands with tobacco and perfect beads. But you cannot give us happiness. A man can only drink so much and then he is full. If a man is always eating honey, he tires of it and becomes sick. And even if all life were sweet -- what man is not food for lions and dogs? A man who has tasted in his life no bitterness will find death very bitter. My mouth longs for sweetness but sweetness brings bitterness and in the end they are one. So I ask you: Take your digging sticks and your shooting-sticks. And do not leave them behind. Go to the green lands you came from. We shall walk in this desert as we always have.

36

Galloping through the apparently calm meadows, My springbok hoofs were touching the grass softly. How I rejoice hopping in the air above the cool moisty grass, Hopping feels so ecstatic after a cool shower on the rainy season. Maybe it's in the rain now that I feel so addicted to, but then I stop, And probably it's the Anaconda's coil that siphons up on me now.

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Oct 29, 2014

Oct 29, 2014 at 1:07 AM UTC

Atul

The Siphoning

Galloping through the apparently calm meadows, My springbok hoofs were touching the grass softly. How I rejoice hopping in the air above the cool moisty grass, Hopping feels so ecstatic after a cool shower on the rainy season. Maybe it's in the rain now that I feel so addicted to, but then I stop, And probably it's the Anaconda's coil that siphons up on me now.

6

So.... you were tactile when we first met the showing and, then, seemingly welcoming But.... And.... (it was easy to beguile him) I wanted something You had something we agreed with smiles (nothing written down) .... regret is but an emotion; not a dribble of ink. .... chasing shadows springbok in season; sharp claws arched back; pounce. .... The Prey just rang the buzzer (three chapters later....) .... So you have to leave now - Thanks for playing my game I am not interested any more I have had my enjoyment (at your expense) .... you can go now .... Leave more confused .... than when you Arrived .... She purrs > Who is next?

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Jun 27, 2013

Jun 27, 2013 at 9:26 PM UTC

DBeard

The Landlady's Cat

So.... you were tactile when we first met the showing and, then, seemingly welcoming But.... And.... (it was easy to beguile him) I wanted something You had something we agreed with smiles (nothing written down) .... regret is but an emotion; not a dribble of ink. .... chasing shadows springbok in season; sharp claws arched back; pounce. .... The Prey just rang the buzzer (three chapters later....) .... So you have to leave now - Thanks for playing my game I am not interested any more I have had my enjoyment (at your expense) .... you can go now .... Leave more confused .... than when you Arrived .... She purrs > Who is next?

44

An illuminated sky An azure forest A springbok ..

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Sep 14, 2016

Sep 14, 2016 at 6:44 AM UTC

ramin-chaman

Snapshot ( 2)

An illuminated sky An azure forest A springbok ..

3

. a month spent listening to (a) grandfather's medley of memories, an eroded imagination, an inversion of a figurative- something of other... a month spent with the breath of Shiva... dementia... no wonder my use, subsequently, does not represent the vitality of a springbok... less a torrent of a waterfall... and more... heavily reliant on: perpendicular and subserviently cryptic. what came first: the vowel, or the consonant... | standing ground... figments of the imagination - vowels and the rigid arches of huddling consonants... unkept lockets of birches woven in pine forests... dead to humor English oak: numbed a'pathos vater... vague wounds caressed by the winds... in beast: siamese - no differential, unto a blast from a sputnik's starry baron knead of the knee third letter: surd... what the eye and the aye does see... but the: hushed agreement bypasses... to 'now is no sentiment of a nauw... Cymry: piquant, the difference between (k)now and n A w no... 'now... brigadier is not (a) / no trumpet-tier / player... -teer... a vowel, a consonant, a surd... and if... VII were again, and 7 far from F... tickling e. e. cummings... translation? missing... the obscurity of the concept of flesh when wearing a pair of gloves, the Sait Paul & Peters... flesh disintegrates, what remains is... the mediating numb between gloves and the "abstract" of skeleton... what came first... the "vowel", or "the" consonant? past the moral "question": the glaring contort... a letter - L, 90°... that gave birth to the Girth of Delta? 360° and the "missing" 5... Kant: negation = 0, reply... Λ = sanction.

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Jan 10, 2019

Jan 10, 2019 at 8:12 PM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

Eureka's Attic (III)

. a month spent listening to (a) grandfather's medley of memories, an eroded imagination, an inversion of a figurative- something of other... a month spent with the breath of Shiva... dementia... no wonder my use, subsequently, does not represent the vitality of a springbok... less a torrent of a waterfall... and more... heavily reliant on: perpendicular and subserviently cryptic. what came first: the vowel, or the consonant... | standing ground... figments of the imagination - vowels and the rigid arches of huddling consonants... unkept lockets of birches woven in pine forests... dead to humor English oak: numbed a'pathos vater... vague wounds caressed by the winds... in beast: siamese - no differential, unto a blast from a sputnik's starry baron knead of the knee third letter: surd... what the eye and the aye does see... but the: hushed agreement bypasses... to 'now is no sentiment of a nauw... Cymry: piquant, the difference between (k)now and n A w no... 'now... brigadier is not (a) / no trumpet-tier / player... -teer... a vowel, a consonant, a surd... and if... VII were again, and 7 far from F... tickling e. e. cummings... translation? missing... the obscurity of the concept of flesh when wearing a pair of gloves, the Sait Paul & Peters... flesh disintegrates, what remains is... the mediating numb between gloves and the "abstract" of skeleton... what came first... the "vowel", or "the" consonant? past the moral "question": the glaring contort... a letter - L, 90°... that gave birth to the Girth of Delta? 360° and the "missing" 5... Kant: negation = 0, reply... Λ = sanction.

83

Snow brings to earth the ash footsteps of Titans, Winter in its giant vacancy of bygone strides, The overthrown birth of frost mother and sky, ~The snow proselytizes all our warm tomorrows~ But the totality of loss lies like a starved lion, Paws crossed, staring at the cold changeling-world, As a young white-tailed Springbok ages into distance.

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Aug 10, 2020

Aug 10, 2020 at 10:02 PM UTC

ChrisSaitta

The Snow of Our Warm Tomorrow

Snow brings to earth the ash footsteps of Titans, Winter in its giant vacancy of bygone strides, The overthrown birth of frost mother and sky, ~The snow proselytizes all our warm tomorrows~ But the totality of loss lies like a starved lion, Paws crossed, staring at the cold changeling-world, As a young white-tailed Springbok ages into distance.

7

Brave queen of lions, walks proud among them, watching her people; Proud lioness, she rules the savanna, all that the eye sees; Zebra and springbok, hippo and meerkat, all pay her tribute Under acacia branches, she sits there, queen of the grassland.

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Mar 4, 2020

Mar 4, 2020 at 9:11 AM UTC

Ranshi

The Lioness

Brave queen of lions, walks proud among them, watching her people; Proud lioness, she rules the savanna, all that the eye sees; Zebra and springbok, hippo and meerkat, all pay her tribute Under acacia branches, she sits there, queen of the grassland.

4