Best Ducks Poems
It was there, just by chance, we were caught unprepared
Staring, surprised, into eyes of the past
I'd been watching the ducks as they circled the pond
It seems that the hands on a clock sweeping time
had circled around and like the ducks, without end
Today, on this bench, lost men will linger,
while waiting for nothing, and no place to go
Once we had claimed this 'our' place to hold hands,
planning a future that never began
Children we were with the world at command
I'm glad we aren't talking in circles, .. like then
Other children are playing in the rust afternoon,
zippered up tight, against winter wind
Talking of children..you tell me there's two
You show me a photo,…then, I share a few
I am all out of bread, as the sun starts to fade
taking away all the stains of the day
East of the bandstand shadows grow long,
falling in corners like memories do
We've learned to know twilight can be bittersweet
And taste what dim recall has only allowed
Goodbyes are said, and you then, kiss my cheek, ..
then you turn and you wave, as you are crossing the street
Left wondering now, where those lost men will go,
it worries my brow, what lost men will eat
A shadow of you, is still left in the park, …
of us holding hands, as it starts to get dark
I leave a few dollars here, on our bench
Checking my watch,… I will leave no regrets
________________________________________________________________
When Love Reckons For A Second Time Contest
Sponsor Nayda Ivette Negron
There she sits, in such pure and innocent beauty
She thinks feeding the ducks is her newest duty
Her smile lights up the dark shadows on my heart
Sad that her hearing is much worse than we thought
Nothing is more fun to her than feeding those ducks
A frown when one steals it all, she says, "Aw Shucks"
She imagines she's their mom when they come near
Quacking for attention, sounds she can hardly hear
I saw one nip at her toes, thinking it was bread
She pointed, giggled, and this is what she said,
"Bad little duck! Don't bite your Mommy's toes."
She pretended to be angry and struck a silly pose
She's the perfect combination of angel and tomboy
In her favorite overalls, she plays with her girly toys
She loves those denims, would wear them every day
when she sits on the wharf, feeding ducks on the bay
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
May 5th, 2016
Eve's Feeding the Ducks Contest
Today there are no rubber ducks, no flawless hues,
To hide behind, as we once did.
This day is dark, and gray and dreary,
Air thick with the scent of decay and mold,
Dull light filters in through the window,
Casting a somber tone across everything.
Even the freesia suds have gone bad,
The water in the tub is murky, opaque and grim,
Waves unseparated as the day that holds them.
When we were good kids, peering out,
From behind our good mother,
We got good glimpses, sucked on butterscotch chips,
The new neighbor, the smell of fresh sunflowers; it was fun.
But the old neighbor, who finally stopped coming around,
He was not good,
Over steeped dandelion tea, a benign-sounding thing,
Bitter and dry, sometimes salty; it was not fun.
As gray as this day, as this water, when I knew him,
He knew me, too.
I sink deeper into the swirling, whirling, and I think of things,
Dirty-water cyclone, the brightness of our childhood,
Harder to recall, I still remember the rubber ducks though.
Splashing them about, their cheerful colors and silly grins,
We knew joy,
But that bright spot is fading, and soon it too will disappear,
Down the drain, with this gray water and my leftover filth.
Mixing it all together,
In the stillness of the moment, I am struck,
The heavy inevitability of happiness; the transience of loss.
As bad as this day, that man, with his dreary gray hues,
I hang my head back and give a loud, guttural laugh at it now,
The memory of those yellow, plastic birds.
Especially since today there are no rubber ducks, no flawless hues,
To hide behind, as we once did.
Axe the old Don, a trump peter n piper
of incredulous hellish crud - be gone
ha air brushed pompous ****
Sunkist in Macy's window
then like a jackal hound, he doth run
after public outcry yelps
for his hide leaving
proletarian discord re: pyrrhic victory won.
Donald Duck Trump ™$ - a pompous ass
makes war with his big brass
knuckles and bucket of crass
maligns vis a vis character assassination
while kissing thing kith
darting forked tongue sharp as bro kin glass
inciting banal deathly hallowed
expletives toward lass
sees – especially Fox Television
news anchor woman Megyn Kelly
(quite so many ill mannered indiscretions ago)
inducing said personality
to bear the brunt of brutish mass
of vitriolic n vile insults sacrilegiously
maliciously, noxiously, opprobiously
incriminating, hellaciously,
desecrating opportunistically as hiss oh piss
so…NO amp pull VOTE of confidence from me
(thus far ohm host halfway to 2020 election
toward such a volt char quite rude, snooty
arrogant simian with sass.
I van (terribly hard pressed)
to describe while sitting on me rump
how he oh bomb in lee rages
gnashing false teeth
Wilma backside doth slump
still blasting Democratic nomination
(pa hill a reed) as sham –
from special interest bro and sis turn pump
he, the epitome of
crass bloviation, a malignant lump
whose rants,
sans presidential outcome a shame
bullying with his millions beds this,
that and another woman to bareback jump
disseminating gene pool
birthing more Quakers
and additionally doth hump
the mass media as some foolhardy charade
and caricature of a frazzled grump
this arboreal clothed ape erected Taj Mahal
phallic symbol, where players dump
and gamble away hard earn cash
for his kitty, as if that cachet
to grind and bump
lambasting with maniacal
like "Stormy Dan" yells
leering oafish ill pout
while hair rum
(of red follicular) bulls ad hocks
atop his bulbous aerosol sprayed locks
resemble a flock
of bronzed sea gulls mocks
heady measly shaped Muppet Ox
dis eased cranial hologram shocks
of a cretaceous, facetious tocks
(sic) exogenous, insidious, and obstreperous vox.
A treasure of water surrounded by the mountains,
Is where my jolly grandpa resides,
Sea green water embellishes enchanting fountains,
And, the ducks swim around water slides.
The surreal vision of the majestic mountain lake,
From my grandpa’s wooden home,
How I wish time would apply a brake,
And, I receive the freedom to roam.
A horrific reality perturbs my dream,
As I walk closer to the lake,
Heaps of garbage block the main stream,
Putting the water quality at stake.
Engines of motor boats roar with might,
Tourists queue up, for an adventurous ride,
For fun, we sacrificed the right,
Look, our lake has dried and the ducks have died.
Our beautiful lake has stopped shedding tears,
Now that her children are deaf and blind,
Our ancestors preserved it for endless years,
Shamefully, we left our duties far behind.
The fishes in the lake stare at me,
With the hope that their ecosystem is secure,
A promise that I will make them free,
And, their home clean and pure
The earth beneath is slowly engulfing our lake,
Punishing us for our brutal and mindless actions,
When will we learn from our unforgivable mistakes?
Do we wait for nature’s disastrous reactions?
As I ambled around the village pond
I skimmed a stone through reed and frond,
In distress, ducks took flight
Guilty I, to cause them fright.
Protesting loudly in their quacking
My common sense seemed sadly lacking,
I never thought that stone I chucked
Would cause such grief, to little ducks.
Have you ever seen a duck come in to land… on land
It’s an eventuality that nature never planned
For ducks that land on water such a graceful splashdown make
But should they land on terra firma… it sure ain’t Swan Lake
Each one does a belly flop, a cartwheel and a stagger
They get up and compose themselves, but ducks weren’t made to swagger
They have no shame so simply waddle with ungainly gait
Toward the back door of my house where they all stand and wait
This morning there were six of them, I watched them all crash down
“They’ll need a pint or two of seed,” I muttered with a frown
Their heads were first to hit the deck, their rumps stuck in the air
I went out with a jug of seed to find them gathered there
As I stepped outside I felt like Moses on the shore
The ducks made space for me to walk and not a hair’s breadth more
Two partridges were standing by and I also fed those
And when the pecking finished, well, I almost checked my toes.
Bird seed by the quarter-gallon gobbled up each time
I wouldn’t mind but it ain’t half a kilo for a dime
But it gives me pleasure and as I stood there this morn
Two more kamikaze ducks crash landed on my lawn.
forever quacking
like two silly ducks in bed
two soulmates at birth
jibber jabber quack quack quack
yes I think they got the knack !
Afternoons the sky shuts down around the swamp's warning tapes
propped up with restoration piping and dirt leak fencing.
We’re fleeing toward the wild, seeking the names and shapes,
the same way the Cedar Waxwing flit and grip for berries tree to tree.
Canada Geese are easy, they lead off down the lane leaving residue,
Widgeons have green stripes and gold stripes, one American
the other European, and they’re all mumbling our family phew-do
they didn’t burn the kid, they can’t keep the house clean, drugs…
Blink away the cold wind tears. Forget all that, only remember
Shovelers have the long low profile and the long bill from studies
in New Zealand, like a deep breath, we set aside work, unlimber
spy the race of killdeer away from their guarding territory in gravel.
Our boss didn’t try to replace us, he ducked out to a new job
leaving the crime ringing in our ears like the police car roaring past.
Head down, we tunnel under the high way finding the dunk and bob
of mergansers and their hallowed or red heads,
remarking differences when the sudden scream of honking
mallards flee up river. Caught off guard, we wonder did we cause
all this pain? The rise and dunk flying goldfinch happily chirping
cling to the thistle, their favorite waste near the waste water
ponds where all the Black River water flows for cleaning
spilling into the nesting lower stages of the tertiary treatment.
That’s all this is, treatment for the shock wave week riding
current events on our shoulders, almost like the red-tailed hawk
that screams and skims our head, rising up to the setting sun
turning the sky purple and pink and bruised. That’s when wood
ducks skim into view, our breath captured and then steaming undone
but soon the heavens offer confirmation, blue angels
with their huge oversized wings soar in pairs down as gift.
We hold each other then, let screams silence, detail enriched.
A day belongs to you and I
side by side swings the impossible
ways of doubt.
To embrass the true moment
only to quiver to turn back
embaresment to huttle that
touch down goal.
We will embark on tackt as it
shall be conquered to a new
habitate known as the quack
attack!
GO DUCKS!!!
DUCKS ON A POND
Three ducks on a pond
With tall, tall buildings , hotels surround
This charming oasis
Quite downtown
Lures the soul weary
Something about the zigzag
In the sky blue water
So smooth
So tension unaware
And from time to time one will bob, duck
Bob then shake
Then swim quickly about
In the clear, clear water
And the seekers will point,
Laugh
Shout!
Dsve Austin
Ducks seemingly float
Effortlessly across water
Below hurricane
Rain drops fall softy
each splashing drop forms circles
which join into puddles
Ducks splash with great glee
flapping wings causing droplets
that reflect rainbows
"The ducks,the geese,the deer and the silly squirrel"
19 ducks quacking at my back door
4 geese honking to be fed
3 deer stroll up to see just what's what ?
1 skittish squirrel waits in the tree...
So i feed them Cheerios,right from the box
Even the deer eat them too!
But noooo, not Mr.Squirrel,he waits till they leave...
Bye Bye ducks,geese and deer...
Now Mr.Squirrel gets his special treat!
He likes walnuts so i give him three,
He takes them and hides them
Way up in his tree...Silly Mr.Squirrel!
For Mara my 5 year old chum...
One of the beautiful little people around.
Two ducks in a pond
Chasing other in circles
Quack! Quack! Quack! Quack! Quack!