Quotes about The hunt, page 8
Hunting or Fishing?
Hunting or fishing – which is better?
That is what I am thinking about!
In business many hunt for customers;
Some men prefer casting net to catch fish!
Even for poets the position is the same
In poetry websites to catch readers!
Some lay wise traps to catch readers!
I use fishing rod with a needle and bait
To catch readers who can understand!
Whether the rank is high or low it is
Immaterial but the true comment is!
Hunting readers to comment and rank
Or fishing readers to comment and rank
Are not really going to enhance one’s status;
For, voluntary comments are indeed valuable!
Poets are jealous to appreciate others’ merit
But some poets raise the status of others!
So, letters to such poets increase sans end!
This is the status of poetry websites now!
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poem by Ramesh T A
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Hunting
'Where 'she said
'does love live? '
Is it in your eyes?
I have looked there;
I look there every day.
Is it in your heart?
I know it beats
but some days
it is so faint;
In your mind?
That is opaque.
Tell me where does your love for me live?
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Capturing
To catch a tiger by the tail
To seize a dragonfly
To pierce a butterfly's frail wings
Possessing them thereby
That is the quest of those who hunt
And them who gather things
The skilled attempt of silversmiths
To fashion them on rings
Today I saw fine jewelry
In shapes of elves and sprites
And ruby throated hummingbirds
In golden garnet flight
What fairer gifts could damsels seek
Than passion flowers in rows
Alighting on their graceful necks
In amethyst repose
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poem by Liilia Talts Morrison
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The Dead Fox Hunter
We found the little captain at the head;
His men lay well-aligned.
We touched his hand &mdash stone cold &mdash and he was dead,
And they, all dead behind,
Had never reached their goal, but they died well;
They charged in line, and in the same line fell.
They well-known rosy colours of his face
Were almost lost in grey.
We saw that, dying and in hopeless case,
For others' sake that day
He'd smothered all rebellious groans: in death
His fingers were tight clenched between his teeth.
For those who live uprightly and die true
Heaven has no bars or locks,
And serves all taste...or what's for him to do
Up there, but hunt the fox?
Angelic choirs? No, Justice must provide
For one who rose straight and in hunting died.
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poem by Robert Graves
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Wolf Trail
How gingerly the wolf leg hangs,
Now poised there in mid-air...
As he fights back the hunger pangs
That could lead to despair.
Each gulp reminds him of his pain,
Each footstep costs him time...
Yet on the trail he hunts again,
No longer in his prime.
He thinks about the coming feast,
If luck is on his side.
If Nature serves the starving beast
With some new soul supplied...
For him to live, another won't,
That's just the way it is...
Today wolves hunt, while others don't.
Will his plans go amiss?
The hunt went well, at least for him...
His victim breathes no more.
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poem by Denis Martindale
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Ye Jacobites By Name
Ye Jacobites by name, lend an ear, lend an ear!
Ye Jacobites by name, lend an ear,
Ye Jacobites by name,
Your fautes I will proclaim,
Your doctrines I maun blame - you shall hear, you shall hear!
Your doctrines I maun blame - you shall hear!
What is right, and what is wrong, by the law, by the law?
What is right, and what is wrong, by the law?
What is right, and what is wrong?
A short sword and a long,
A weak arm and a strong, for to draw, for to draw!
A weak arm and a strong, for to draw!
What makes heroic strife, famed afar, famed afar?
What makes heroic strife famed afar?
What makes heroic strife?
To whet th' assassin's knife,
Or hunt a Parent's life, wi bluidy war, wi bluidy war!
Or hunt a Parent's life, wi bluidy war!
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poem by Robert Burns
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Lords Of The Arctic
Two snow wolves stayed on pure white snow,
Like two rocks side-by-side...
As if they had no home to go,
No warm place to abide...
Yet heat can't feed the wolves by day
Or nurture them by night,
That's why the wolves must hunt for prey,
Before their food takes flight.
Two wolves await what God allows
To cross their paths once more...
For now, the hungry wolves must browse,
No movement to ignore...
No sound can stir without their ears
Locating that new source,
For even wild wolves have their fears,
As Nature takes its course.
Lords of the Arctic, yes, indeed...
Survivors striving still,
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poem by Denis Martindale
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Psalm 23
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
Even when in a famished state I hunt,
In pastures green and lush with abundance,
He renews my spry and exuberance.
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
In gardens of drought He will fortune plant.
He leads to quiet pools of fresh water
from which I draw strength and endless laughter.
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He does my requests for pleasant paths grant.
Even when to deepest darkness I stray,
He lovingly paves a most glorious way.
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
Even when my foes seek my life to hunt,
His rod and staff give me all the comfort
that allay my fears of every discomfort.
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poem by Joseph C Ogbonna (3 July 2022)
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No Matter How You Weep It
Gimme, gimme, gimme...
No more hunches to hunt!
And,
Gimme, gimme, gimme...
No more of your stunts!
Reveal in front of me,
Something I can see...
Believed.
And,
Gimme, gimme, gimme...
No more run arounds.
And,
Gimme, gimme, gimme...
Truth that's easily found!
'Cause I am paralyzed,
By your constant lies...
You leave.
Wishing them to be received.
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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We're Predators and Prey
Are we truly so distant from our primitive past
Are we no longer the hunter or considered fair prey
Were the truth put before you, you’d be most aghast
There are predators among us and they hunt us each day
We’re not truly different from the ones at herds rear
Which the predator watches with hard hungry eye
The prey starts and senses, that death is quite near
On the lonely herds edges, the weak always die
Our modern world is a jungle, and human beasts are a fact
Camouflaged with normalcy, clothed in disarming disguise
Preying on the young and the weakest with terrifying tact
Before melting in to community, they disappear to our eyes
The gazelle in the herd is as the child on the walk
Safety in numbers causes inborn defenses to relax
A lion creeping closer is as a van stopping to stalk
And they’ll both culminate in deadly attacks
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poem by David Whalen
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