The Last to Comment Wins

JayMark

JayMark

It's Not Easy Being Nobody, But Somebody Has To.
Joined
Jul 31, 2024
Messages
1,739
Points
128
The whole nut is when the estate agent quickly marks out his territory on the dance floor.
 
Tempokai

Tempokai

The Overworked One
Joined
Nov 16, 2021
Messages
1,396
Points
153
I'm winning currently by reading this:
The first snow falls. The blood-sport calls, then hunters mount and ride.
The eagle’s master knows the place where the wily reynards sit—
Just give him a good companion to canter by his side,
A swift mount clamped between his legs and hunting gear to fit.

With a cry the men in the saddle sweep the valley at a trot.
It opens wide upon the plain—there a fox’s traces show.
He’s gone to earth—to find the spot.
The eagle’s keeper mounts a hill, while his helper waits below.

The hood is snatched from the eagle’s eyes.
In a flash it sights its hidden prey.
Then the fox streaks up the rise,
But the eagle knows he seeks the rocks and cuts across the way.

The fox cannot reach safety that he sought to gain in height.
He crouches low, but he can’t deceive the bird’s blood-lusting eye.
His lips curl back, his fangs show white.
He’ll put up a fight for his life today, if the time has come to die.

Now the fun has begun, the sport and the zest!
The hunters gallop at a breakneck pace, reckless and risking their lives.
They know a good fox may come out the best
With his forty ivory knives.

The golden eagle plunges down, its ruffled plumage bristles—
A knight with eight bright spears to dart…
The great wings beat. The spread tail whistles.
It speeds like a shot at its victim’s heart.

The fox and the eagle have met. And now the jousting will start.
The bird and the beast—each a valiant knight—
Will fight till they shed the hot blood of a heart,
While horsemen, the hunters, take joy in the sight.

Black is the eagle, ruddy the fox, on snow the hue of pearl,
A billowing mass that heaves and waves
Like elbows a-flashing, when some lovely girl
Brushes her raven-black hair as she bathes.

Her snow-white body and cheeks of red
Are seen as they peep through ebony locks.
The eagle shudders from wing-tip to head,
Then, shifting its weight, it mounts on the fox.

A lusty batyr with his fabulous bride
At their first love-encounter on a narrow white lodge…
The huntsman struts proudly, his smile glad and wide—
His bird won the bout, and the fox could not dodge…

You shake the dust from your tall fur cap and slap it on your head,
Put nasibai behind your lip to savour ash and snuff.
You hand the fox to the fine old man—the eagle left it dead—
He offers you a thousand thanks, his manner warm and bluff…

You grow a year younger when a reynard is caught.
Each time a great bird in fun sinks its claws.
You can’t spare the time for an unhappy thought,
But talk about hunting with never a pause.

Indulge in that pleasure. You can always be sure
You’ll not cause another man anguish or pain.
My verses have spoken—why should I say more?
To men with stout hearts I need not explain.

A dullard can listen, pretending to hear,
His mind merely flits over what others say.
For men who can reason my picture is clear.
They relish the phrases and words that they weigh.

For horsemen and hunters, these verses I write,
Who’ve chased the red fox with an eagle in flight…
 
Shiriru_B

Shiriru_B

Book binge in progress.
Joined
Nov 1, 2020
Messages
358
Points
133
/ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\
My stomach is protesting that I eat something but I don't want to cook o(≧口≦)o but I want meat!
MEAT! MEAT! MEAT! MEAT!MEAT! MEAT! MEAT! MEAT!MEAT! MEAT! MEAT! MEAT!MEAT! MEAT! MEAT! MEAT!MEAT! MEAT! MEAT! MEAT!MEAT! MEAT! MEAT! MEAT!MEAT! MEAT! MEAT! MEAT!MEAT! MEAT! MEAT! MEAT!MEAT! MEAT! MEAT! MEAT!MEAT! MEAT! MEAT! MEAT!
 
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