What else am I to do?

Something weird disturbed my sleep,

I thought I heard a sound.

I opened up one sleepy eye,

And had a look around.

The water in my billabong,

Was smooth like shiny glass.

I didn’t move a muscle as,

I hid there in the grass.


The sun rose high above the trees,

The birds began to call.

And still I sit here where I am,

And listen to it all.

I could growl and frighten them,

They really are quite rude.

But . .  I’m using all my energy,

Digesting all my food.


For tea last night I ate too much,

The right-side of a bull.

I didn’t know when I should stop,

And now my bellies full.

I’ve put his left-side somewhere safe,

That’s for tomorrow’s meal.

With one more day to soften up,

I’ll think I’m eating veal.


So I just lay here in the sun,

It makes me nice and warm.

Perhaps I’ll have another nap,

Before the summer storm.

It takes me all my effort to,

Look up into the sky.

The day’s now hot and sticky and,

I close my sleepy eye.


I dream of waiting for my food,

To come and take a drink.

They’ve no idea I’m hiding here,

I’m just beyond the brink.

Catching them can be so easy,

And some don’t even fight.

I quickly make a rushing charge,

Reach out and take a bite.


One day I lunged right up a tree,

To taste a coloured parrot.

His flesh was disappointing though,

Much like eating carrot.

I should have stayed here on the ground,

And simply let him be.

But instinct calls as instinct calls,

I’m no one if not me.


– ⋅ o ♥ o ⋅ –


Now there’s that sound I heard before,

I see the grasses move.

Perhaps a bit more food about,

How could I disapprove?

Yet if it is tomorrow’s supper,

Not sure I’ll have the room.

I’ll have to see what it could be,

One should not assume.


Over there I see a hunter,

He’s aiming with his gun.

I flash him my most brilliant smile,

Then give a bigger one.

He steps a little nearer now,

I get a better look.

And I must say he is quite brave,

He’s so close to my brook.


He turns his back and steps away,

Then moves on to the right.

I’ll slink below the water line,

And give him such a fright.

Patience not to make a ripple,

And not to make a sound.

I’m grinning at myself at such,

A treasure that I’ve found.


One quick snap’s all it will take,

To add him to my dinner.

Look . . . He’s aiming at a buffalo,

He thinks he’s on a winner.

But all I’m looking at is food,

I just see juicy meat.

And instinct calls as instinct calls,

He would be such a treat.


He gives me reason to be cranky,

I’m not sorry for my mood.

He hunts me down and kills my kin,

But I am not his food.

Mr Hunter don’t go thinking,

That you are brave or smart.

I will have you, of that I’m sure,

All I’ve to do is dart.


Life is all about survival,

The fit don’t disappear.

And wisdom comes with time and age,

How long have I been here?

Almost one hundred million years,

You’ve barely been here two.

Now I’ll have you for my supper,

What else am I to do?


Author: Clare

Ever expanding one star at a time, my cosmos is a galaxy of thoughts and creativity where you can find poetry, short stories, photography and so much more.

5 thoughts

  1. Your “silly” poem as you state is quite an amazing feat!! Wow!! Your words brought me to the waters edge, but not to close for fear of looking like some ones dinner!! Bravo! Great poem and rhythm! blessings, denise


    1. Thank you for your very kind words Denise,

      I’m glad I took you on a little journey where you didn’t end up being dinner 🙂 and I must admit, I’ve really been enjoying my recent poetry experiments.


      Liked by 1 person

  2. Giggle! That could be a children’s poem if it were so bloomin’ scary! What inspired that??? Was it the story of the man in Texas who said boloney to the sign about alligators, took off his shirt and jumped in the water, only to be eaten moments later? I think that happened Monday. Must admit, I didn’t know they had crocs in billabongs in Australia. Doesn’t seem like there’d be enough water.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Hi Calen,

      I didn’t know about that man and now I feel like I’m being insensitive. The inspiration was home work for the Writer Group – “In my country, dinner eats you!” Here in Australia we have lots of crocodiles, and most certainly so up north in the wet tropics.

      Glad you liked my silly little poem.


      Liked by 2 people

      1. Well I suppose we SHOULD feel bad, but then I would have to feel bad. I’m starting to think Plato is right. You can fix ignorance, but generally you can’t fix stupid. 😦

        Liked by 1 person

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