Poems About: HUNTING

Rising pasture as if viewed from angel flight
A mind-blowing beautiful East West imagery

The central topography high up on the hill read more »

When I was seven years old in nineteen fifty four
I hunted for rabbits in old Claramore
With Jack the brown working dog a young dog then
The boys of the fifties are now ageing men read more »

In old Claraghatlea when I was a young boy
Walks in the old fields I used to enjoy
And Summer evenings out hunting in Pomeroy's bog
With Pudsy our dark brown hairy cattle dog read more »

I've been through that coastal country where only saltbush grow
The land of the huge salt pans like giant rings of snow
In that vast part of South Australia revered as the Coorong
To the people of the Dreamtime it always will belong. read more »

The spur winged plovers breed in depths of Winter
And in the night you often hear them cry
Perhaps they scream at fox who is out hunting
As in the darkness he goes prowling by? read more »

Rising pasture as if viewed from angel flight
A mind-blowing beautiful East West imagery

The central topography high up on the hill read more »

The mother zebra could not save young one!
The hungry lioness had killed it fast;
It turns to watch the gruesome act half-done,
And walks away with sad a heart, at last. read more »

Captain Ahab chucked his deadly harpoon, He
in slow motion, resembled a clownish
cartoon.His aim was centered, waving off
only a few degrees, The mist was winded read more »

Lions rush fields of lush weeds to chase
out the wild game...These hunted prey, run
and jump only to save their own hides from
killing machines who want to kill and mame! read more »

Australian native wild life disappearing and on fox you put the blame
But red fox would not be here if white man never came
'Twas the aristocracy introduced reynard for the hunt on sunday
And for the mistakes of colonial man there is a price to pay read more »

The moon shines on the Araglen clear waters
And the trout for fly jump in the river pool
And in the gentle breeze new leaves are stirring
And the night air one might say a little cool. read more »

If life is a fox, are we the howling hound?
Forever chasing toward the greener hills
Down on the moors searching firmer ground
Hunting forward for those distant thrills read more »