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The Tasmanian Tiger

By Josh ClementsPublished 4 months ago β€’ Updated 4 months ago β€’ 1 min read
Postcard of 'Tasmanian Marsupial Wolf' - the Thylacine. Hobart Zoo c. 1928 (G.P. Whitley Papers Australian Museum Archives) - Image Harry Burrell, Public Domain

Walking in Cradle mountain,

The Southern point,

Of the Southerlty world.

I see the Echidna,

The Wallaby, and

Tasmanian Devils,

Lumbering in the bush.

And a duck-billed platypus


As it slips below the water.

In the oceans by St Helen’s,

Dolphin and seals abound.


I wander without,

Over wetlands, grasslands,

rivers and lakes.

I wonder why I wander,

What this could do without.


For a moment, a shadow,

A passing rustle,

A stolen glance.

For will I see it,

Even by night,

Or will a rock painting,

Spring it back to life.


My joy is bleak,

The jungle bare,

As a Thylacine,

A Tasmanian Tiger,

Greets me in my sleep.

For when I awake

In an empty land,

There are no tigers there.

I feel as exitinct,

But not as rare.

surreal poetrysad poetrynature poetrychildrens poetry

About the Creator

Josh Clements

Known to scribble away at my fantasy novel, screenplays, poems and short stories.

Tastes may vary.

Twitter: @JoshuaClements89

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  • liell4 months ago

    Thylacines: almost as rare as a pencil case

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