Stoned Bunnies? Or Jackalopes Soon To Appear?

If you have a problem with this poem, blame this post, and the dude who tweaked it, and the one who opened mouth/inserted foot before a committee this week.
Stoned Rabbits in the Washington Post.

Fearful we must be
of illegal grow operations
that will proliferate more
with legalizing marijuana for medicine.

For the innocent young bunnies
will nibble on leaves,
then, whilst stoned beyond belief,
go courting with proghorns.

Yes, fear this, folks.
for soon many more walls
will bear the fruit
of those intoxicated wildlife trysts.

I foresee an even greater
proliferation of jackalopes coming,
an Armageddon of antlered rodents
storming across Western deserts.

And all know, indeed,
the dangers that will spur
to those who visit
not aware the beasts' habits.

They charge in to nuzzle,
for getting their lances
rising betwixt their long ears,
and spear unwary tourists.

When found on roads,
the dangers compound very quickly,
as tires get blown
by those sharpened natural defenses.

The setback to the economy
will roll across states,
as the new born species
doth duly multiply swift.

First the accident costs
will skyrocket across the boards
as the critter prove
stoned from their birth indeed.

Not to mention taxidermists' woes
when flooded with requests
to mount only the largest
of these new beasts.

Yea, this is trouble,
for what else might breed
out amid illegal fields
of such mind warping plants?

Could we see eagles hatching
after mating with cougars
and hence returning mythical griffins
to our skies soon?

To be sure, folks
I admit his other warnings
are far more likely,
but mine are more dire...

to our ribs at least
as we all laugh
when they find live jackalopes
for scientists to explain.
4March2015-a bemused and chuckling Dyfedd Rex.

The Buck Gets His Trophy - A poem of Nature

He sought his prey
out on the blacktop
between Rice-Eccles Stadium
and the cemetery opposite
criss-crossing that highway
in a steady gait
waiting for his target
to come into range

He let many pass
an old Chevy pickup
the police Crown Vic
the first Trax train
even the garbage truck
for those were common
and this young buck
set his sights higher.

Color did not matter
no red flashy ride
could lure him out
into lanes of traffic
before the right vehicle
and his chosen victim
came chugging up slow
seeking to reach class.

A most endangered species
as reward for patience
aiming antlers with care
as he pawed twice
the charged with purpose
before she could react
to dodge his attack
with a quick swerve.

The cop had waited
worried this was coming
and groaned in despair
over the extra paperwork
as the impact occurred
and the buck scored,
taking out with him
the last running Yugo.

The road stayed shut
for half the morning
with traffic taking detours
as they took time
to make the investigation
even though taped replays
from the officer's dash-cam
showed the events clearly.

What is the moral
of this strange story?
Simple if you ponder
over what I've said.
"Never drive the last
car of any model
in your local area
unless deer are scarce."

Still now I wonder
do those wild herds
play the same games
as we used to?
Assigning silly imaginary points
for certain car makes,
models or vintage years
or even driver types?

If it ain't so,
then the only option
left to answer me
is they are suicidal
and seek to gather,
like the ancient pharaohs,
a special honor guard
for their next life.

29November2011 posted finally or again - Dyfedd Rex

Finding My Lost Soul Again - A poem of peace and tranquility amid chaotic feasts.

In case you cannot tell from the current trend, feeding the birds at the park is my current recreational activity. But its fun as all the dickens. And a bit inspiring.

Swarming the ground before I sit
come my feathered friends to feast
upon the old bread I have
and offer to share with them
as I enjoy the afternoon's quiet time
seeking inner peace and perhaps redemption.

I know them by sight now
recognize markings on their sleek plumage
even ignoring sometimes the tracking bands
as I offer them names slowly
making sure those big bully geese
don't snag all I offer up.

There is the brave little drake
who just walks right up calmly
seeking to take food from hand
like he's seen the ganders do
and his poor broken billed mate
who loves crustless bits of bread.

There is Frost brow the goose
who hisses her way in closer
then expresses her outrage over application
of equal rights for the ducks
by snapping at every parcel flung
or striking at my knees softly.

Then there is Sable and mate
who snake into the pack quick
attack the geese to distract them
and let the others steal bread
while they take on the giants
who rule this pool, when allowed.

There are many others with names
each has one in my mind
if not one I speak outloud
and other critters join the fray
sparrows, a starling, even some gulls
as the tidbits litter the ground.

This is my relaxation, inside chaos
as kids watch me feeding them
laughing and asking parents for bread
so they can try meeting birds
so upclose and personally (just briefly)
until they see snapping at fingers.

I find my soul once again
as I dole out the food
and wonder where it was journeying
until our reunion amid this mess
as the ducks and geese war
over the last bits tossed out.

(23May2012- Dyfedd Rex)

Turtle Rehab - a Tongue-in-Cheek Poem

First, this guy needs an intro, after all, he inspired this poem.....
http://www.npr.org/2011/12/26/144283361/endangered-turtle-survives-trans-atlantic-journey

now, here is what I got from all his hoopla,

Saw a news article about a sea turtle that caught a ride on some seaweed over to far side of the pond, place called Portugal, from its normal haunts in the Caribbean. The said the thing had been through rehab and was to be released, and that made me ask a strange question....

What the hell was he in rehab for and how does turtle rehab work?

Here is my answer, probably not right, try not to laugh too much......

He was young and dumb then
swimming out too far too often
until one day near the Sargasso
he found his strength was failing
so he jumped on some seaweed
and noted it moved with currents
thus the legend of being lazy
came about from his long journey.

Day after day he lay there
dropping off only a few times
to grab a bite to eat
or cool off in the water
after laying all day like humans
did on beaches his folk needed
to breed and lay their eggs
drifting on the currents without effort

At last after many full moons
he found a new sandy stretch
along a shore that was strange
not the warm place of hatching
but cooler and with shorter days
where he hung out for weeks
until the humans caught his butt
and shipped him back to home.

They figured out how he traveled
after he tried it once more
but that box on his shell
told them where he was headed
so they sent out a ship
and hauled him back to shore
where they set him down firmly
and talked to him about home.

Now, this turtle, he couldn't care
nor did they check his answers
to see if he really reformed
so when the day came finally
and his freedom was given back
he waited for a passing boat
using the propeller to scrape free
that silly box the people attached.

I wonder if that turtle pshychologist
will write up a paper soon
about his wonderful program of treatment
until he is forced to retract it
as our wandering pal turns up
perhaps on the Riviera this time
or some Greek island's warm bays
sunning himself with a turtle smirk.

I hope to read that paper
I kind of want to know
what Turtle Rehab is really like
and if he got federal dough
to support him like the others
who go through twelve step programs
and wash out or fall back
upon their old ways once done.

I imagine we will soon see
just how effective it really was
but I like my own vision
of him laying once more time
upon a raft of thick seaweeds
acting like an explorer of old
seeking new lands to settle upon
even if just for a while.

(12/26/2011 - Dyfedd Rex)

Who says the Robins leave til spring

Folklore and science both tell lies
about the natural world around me
telling me things are always so
when my eyes relate something else
seen amid the branches and snows.
Yes indeed this is my question
Who says the Robins really leave
not to return until Spring's warmth
for just before burning Yule's Log
doing a bit of late yard work
two came down to eat bugs
stirred up by my hard labor
to become their breaking of fast.
If they are wrong about this,
then what other things they say
will smell of that cattle by-product
and force me to call them
on spewing out fertilizer when talking.

(12/26/2011 - Dyfedd Rex)