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JoeC's original poetry and photos about life and all things under the sun.

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Wednesday, May 14, 2014




You died on a Tuesday,
Agony ended your life,
Breaking my heart on that blue day,
Your pain stabbed deep like a knife.

In the end you suffered and cried,
Helpless I watched, suffering with you those hours,
Hoping miracles would save you, I tried,
Praying "God grant me courage with your Holy Ghost powers."

Heedfully I attended as precious life left you,
One last breath, your heart stopped in turn,
Grieving, wretched I sat, trembling too,
Death and the reaper I numbly spurn.

I miss you so much I could cry,
Your grave is the place where you stay,
So much strife fills my mind I could die,
My soul whispers words where you silently lay. 

----------------

My loyal companion Tippy came into my life when she was six months old, a rescue dog I fortunately found at the SPCA kennel. She was 13 years, 4 months old when she died on April 22, 2014.

 


Spring! Genetic destiny creating me male!
Krek krek! Krek krek! Krek krek!
Reviewing Crake vocals, I'm known as Landrail,
Hear me calling! See my long Rail neck!

Migrating from Africa, such a long ways I've flown,
Shannon's blue ribbon, flowing o'er that grand Emerald Isle,
Some call me Corn Crake, chestnut plumage I've grown,
Departing, my relations head to Asia, north, along the blue Nile.

Back home in Ireland, exclaiming loudly, "I'm here!",
Hoping to heed, an echo, any answering cry!
Patiently resting! Day into night, sky starry and clear,
Calling! Calling! Hoping for some nesting reply!

Krek krek! Krek krek! Krek krek!
Waiting, listening, croaking krek even more,
Not knowing I'm the last Crake on this broken wreck,
Yes, I'm the final Corn Crake, landing on this far shore.

Yet I call and I call, feathered brethren, please hear,
Not knowing my brothers, they've disappeared from this land,
Night into day, nary Crake's rustle or call, standing long-legged, so austere,
Not one other Landrail, flown home here to Ireland, to nest by the sand.

Still this cool night, bright stars shine, twinkle above,
So still my heart, my calls urgent, pierced by my tongue,
So weep, Shannon River, where Crake's once nested with love,
Such joy is lost, last one of my kind, Rail song still unsung.

Was this God's prayer for us? A terminal plan?
Has creation ordered my species lost?
Extinction, written in heaven, or committed by man?
God's given Grace . . . what mortal sin . . . what ultimate cost?!