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Whoso List to Hunt

Whoso list to hunt, I know where is an hind,
But as for me, helas! I may no more.
The vain travail hath worried me so sore,
I am of them that furthest come behind.
Yet may I by no means, my worried mind
Draw from the deer; but as she fleeth afore
Fainting I follow. I leave off therefore,
Since in a net I seek to hold the wind.
Who list her hunt, I put him out of doubt,
As well as I, may spend his time in vain;
And graven in diamonds in letters plain
There is written, her fair neck round about,
"Noli me tangere, for Caesar's I am,
And wild to hold, though I seem tame."

poem by Sir Thomas Wyatt
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Whoso List to Hunt, I Know Where is an Hind

Whoso list to hunt, I know where is an hind,
But as for me, hélas, I may no more.
The vain travail hath wearied me so sore,
I am of them that farthest cometh behind.
Yet may I by no means my wearied mind
Draw from the deer, but as she fleeth afore
Fainting I follow. I leave off therefore,
Sithens in a net I seek to hold the wind.
Who list her hunt, I put him out of doubt,
As well as I may spend his time in vain.
And graven with diamonds in letters plain
There is written, her fair neck round about:
Noli me tangere, for Caesar's I am,
And wild for to hold, though I seem tame.

poem by Sir Thomas Wyatt
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Whoso List To Hunt, I Know Where Is an Hind

Whoso list to hunt, I know where is an hind,
But as for me, hélas, I may no more.
The vain travail hath wearied me so sore,
I am of them that farthest cometh behind.
Yet may I by no means my wearied mind
Draw from the deer, but as she fleeth afore
Fainting I follow. I leave off therefore,
Sithens in a net I seek to hold the wind.
Who list her hunt, I put him out of doubt,
As well as I may spend his time in vain.
And graven with diamonds in letters plain
There is written, her fair neck round about:
Noli me tangere, for Caesar's I am,
And wild for to hold, though I seem tame.

poem by David McKee Wright
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Death Of A Youth

How old is to old?
How young is to young?
For Death knowns no number
Death knows no age.

I have the same dreams as you.
I have the same hopes and fears as you do.
Then why do I not have the same rights as you do?
Why do you hunt me like a animal in the concrete jungle of life.
Why did you track me down the side walk river.
Then gun me down.

What Devine power made you the hunter and me the prey.
Is it because my eyes are not blue like yours.
Could it be because my skin is dark like the dirty it was created from.

Why do you hunt me.
Don't you know I am not a animal.
I am a man just like you

poem by Jackie Compton
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Colombo

Waves topple like skittles down the beach
A gecko is the room’s unpaying guest
Sinbad sailed these seas by such a moon
The old colonial bed stands on stiff legs

A gecko is the room’s unpaying guest
The hotel writing paper’s wafer thin
The old colonial bed stands on stiff legs
Banjo the one-eyed dog howls for a bone

The hotel writing paper’s wafer thin
Catamarans hunt tuna round the bay
Banjo the one-eyed dog howls for a bone
Tropical lightning cleaves the night in two

Catamarans hunt tuna round the bay
Waves topple like skittles down the beach
Tropical lightning cleaves the night in two
Sinbad sailed these seas by such a moon

poem by Sheena Blackhall
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The Happening

The Happening

It was a happening of that moment
None has expected that
It happened suddenly as a lightning
That happened with absolute perfection
None can blame or degrade it
Such a perfect happening has happened
as the arrival of a first rain dropp from the sky
But none has time to enjoy or
to astonish of that happening
Every one is moving with desires
to hunt money in the concrete jungle
I wondered! on His superb creation
That white Pup has come out from mother’s womb
it howled gently and
moved to his mother for milk
That mother was still in fatigue
But none has time to enjoy or
to astonish of that happening

[...] Read more

poem by Sakthi Ravichandran
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The King's Hunt is up

The hunt is up, the hunt is up,
And it is well nigh day;
And Harry our king is gone hunting,
To bring his deer to bay.

The east is bright with morning light,
And darkness it is fled;
And the merry horn wakes up the morn
To leave his idle bed.

Behold the skies with golden dyes
Are glowing all around;
The grass is green, and so are the treen,
All laughing with the sound.

The horses snort to be at the sport,
The dogs are running free;
The woods rejoice at the merry noise
Of hey taranta tee ree.

[...] Read more

poem by William Gray
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Mother Nature Knows

The sedge along the riverside.
Provides a perfect place to hide
For creatures which we rarely see.
Small animals which need to be.
Hid from the eyes of predators.
Who hunt along the water course.

Feathered hunters high in the sky
follow the river as they fly
In their eternal hunt for prey.
Ready to stoop without delay.
Given the opportunity
On some potential meal they see..

Small creatures seeking sustenance.
Who are prepared to take a chance.
To forage for the food they need
Far from the safety of the weeds
where they are hidden from the view.
Of predators who must feed too.

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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Crouching Low

Two men in ragged clothing
sat beside the road
alert and on the hunt.
Each watched a different direction
looking for game to emerge.
One espied a small bird
unknown to either of them
and its strutting attracted them.

' That bird, ' one man says
'we could kill and eat.
It does not look that fast
and would be easy prey.'

'Well it could work, ' the other man said
'but if we don't hunt him and instead capture him
we could keep him as a pet.'

'What good would that do? ' said the first man.
'We don't need pets.'

[...] Read more

poem by Lonnie Hicks
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So Much Goes Unsaid

So much goes unsaid,
Between those sharing a relationship.
But uncommitted to communicate.

So much goes misunderstood.
As expectations,
Grow further distanced.

And a union isn't what it could be.
With a love professed...
Before a legalized ceremony,
Took affect to leave...
A hunt to trap a 'game' to seize.
To then do what one chooses to please.

So much goes unsaid,
Between those sharing a relationship.
But uncommitted to communicate.

So much goes misunderstood.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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