EXERCISE Poetry Challenge #18 -- The Buck

Discussion in 'INSPIRING MUSES' started by Fluffy, Jul 10, 2011.

  1. I'm still out of town visiting family and something I've noticed during lots of these trips, are deer! Tons of them bravely venturing down the roads; some are even in yard. This seemed like a good inspiration for poetry. Write a poem about a buck, which is a male deer. If not, you're welcome to write about a family, or a doe, which is a female deer. If you need some help on what exactly to write about, take a look at this list:

    • Antlers
    • Prancing
    • Grazing
    • Leadership
    • Bambi

    I hope I could inspire you with my lovely list. XD I encourage you to make the poem(s) look pretty with bbcodes. If you need some guidance as to what style your poem should be, take a look at Shadow Poetry.
  2. He stood as stiff as a board,
    In some random neighbors lawn.
    People stopped and stared,
    Wondering about exactly what,
    Was going on there.
    Could he be real?
    Or just another decoration?
    All questions were answered when,
    He took off prancing,
    Into the nearby trees.
  3. The White Stag

    Legend tells of a mystic stag,
    An animal that few have seen,
    Hiding deep within the quag,
    Roaming the forests and moors of green.

    An animal that few have seen,
    A stag white as new-fallen snow,
    Roaming the forests and moors of green,
    Rarely to any does it show.

    A stag white as new-fallen snow,
    Creature of mysteries untold,
    Rarely to any does it show,
    The powerful magic that it holds.

    Creature of mysteries untold,
    Harbinger of purity and light,
    The powerful magic that it holds,
    Brings all of nature back to life.

    Harbinger or purity and light,
    Guardian of all life and earth,
    Brings all of nature back to life,
    Symbol of death and rebirth.

    Guardian of all life and earth,
    Hiding deep within the quag,
    Symbol of death and rebirth,
    Legend tells of a mystic stag.
    #3 AkikoYukito, Sep 17, 2014
    Last edited: Nov 8, 2014
  4. The scene was somber,
    Though it could have been,
    Much happier than this.
    A buck. A man. A child.

    Pale brown fur,
    Arching antlers,
    Soft black eyes,
    Staring from the side.

    Roaring motor,
    Churning engine,
    Spinning tires,
    Speeding from the north.

    A jump,
    A leap of faith.
    A foot slamming down,
    But it was too late.

    Blood smeared across black roads,
    Crumpled metal smoking in the grass.
    Broken bones and cold eyes.
    Three avoidable deaths.
    • Like Like x 1
  5. Grace on four legs,
    beautifully stilted,
    with head tilted,
    and antlers shining,
    the God of the Forest
    surveys his fief,
    for undue strife,
    for Justice pining.

    The birds stay chirping,
    their feathers gleaming,
    faces beaming,
    in the noonday sun.
    "Peaceful day," they sing,
    to the antler'd king,
    who went walking
    around his kingdom.

    But all is not well,
    the king can still see,
    spying a bee
    who weeps so forlorn.
    "My sisters, my mother,"
    the bee does cry
    with a tear in its eye
    as it goes to mourn.

    "What problem is this?"
    the king asks his subject
    whom he vowed to protect
    while breath did he keep.
    "My sisters were frozen
    with water so bitter
    as if came winter
    while we were asleep.

    The human who kept us
    he would do no such thing.
    It were others who did bring
    this death unto us."
    The king snorted loudly
    with frustration and fear
    for ev'n a king to hear
    of Man- perilous.

    "I give you my grace,
    young bee of misfortune,
    but this is inopportune,
    and there's naught I can do.
    Who can fight Man
    with his guns and his hands?
    Who dare makes a stand
    and survives it too?

    But vengeance I can try
    and get for you young bee
    even at great cost to me
    for I am the King.
    For I am nothing
    if I do not serve,
    as a buck does not deserve
    his rack without fighting."
    • Love Love x 1
  6. The mighty stag lifts up its head
    The ten points on its antlers tell of his age
    Two men look on in delight and glee
    No two men could be further from the same page

    One with a camera, one with a gun
    Two separate reasons for braving the cold
    Each there to shoot with far different aim
    One to capture the image, one a hunter bold

    They both take their shot neither conscious of the other
    Both had aim that was true and right full of skill
    The Photographer with his image strong and majestic
    The Hunter to feed his family had his kill