wordsfromanneli

Thoughts, ideas, photos, and stories.

Tag Archives: poem


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You Quack Me Up

Is love all it’s quacked up to be? You betcha.

Back off, boys!

I’m a har-har-harlequin,

Funny little duck,

If you’re look-look-looking for

A girl you’re out of luck.

 

She’s a sweet-sweet lady duck,

And she is all my own,

Best little sweetheart

I have ever known.

 

No one comes between us,

She’s mine, mine, mine,

To woo, woo, woo her,

You’d better get in line.

 


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Australian Wood Duck

Another photo from my friends’ holiday in Australia.

Is it a duck or a goose? It seems to have features of both and its Latin name has been adjusted  somewhat (from chen to anser?) to cover both features. Not sure about the Latin names, but there is definitely something goosey about this wood “duck.”

Hi,

My friends!

See me here?

I’m a wood duck,

Why am I called that?

No, I’m not made of wood,

I nest in tree cavities

Away from many predators,

My flightless ducklings leap from the tree,

When I call from the ground, they jump to me.


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The Lunch Menu

 

“What to do? What to do? Which ones should we go after, Dad?”

“That’s a tough one, Son. So many dinners. So little time….

I guess we watch for a cripple, or a loner, like always.”

 

Poised

Over

Fields of geese

Eagles search out

 Opportunity,

Eyes open for cripples,

Some lone, wandering straggler,

Any kind of anomaly

Lacking the protection of the flock,

A victim to be whisked away for lunch.


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The Root Cellar

Perhaps it’s not quite like a fridge, but it was a cool place to store the potatoes, turnips, carrots,  beets, and squash.

*Disclaimer – This is not my root cellar but it was on land where I was visiting. The poem is purely fictional (although probably possible).

“Go

Bring back

Potatoes,

Carrots, and squash.

The wicker basket

Is handy to carry

Everything.” — “But, Mom,” I whined,

“It’s so dark in there, and there’s bugs!”

“Nonsense! The bugs are more scared of you.”

Off I went … and of course, I proved her wrong.


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Birdfeeders

 

Hawk!

Warnings

are shouted.

Bird seeds are served,

but not for me; still,

hunger motivates me.

Unsuspecting songbirds feed,

inadvertently becoming

 my prey, providing me with fresh meat.

Yes! Bird feeders  —  the balance of nature.

*****

Thanks to Linda for her help with etherees, a poetry form I had not yet tried. Any future tips appreciated. Check it out here:

An Earthy Etheree