PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

He paces through the trees,
Looking for prey with a growl in his throat,
He sees the deer, and crouches, searching for a path to the kill.
Stalking deer, he makes no sound.
Fiery symmetry camouflaging him from the eyes of his prey.

He leaps, powerful jaws closing on deer,
Unaware of the danger he's in.
He rips at her throat,
Crimson liquid spilling to the forest floor,
Still unaware of his predator,
He ravaged the delicate beauty of the deer,
Eating the flesh of the hunted,
Leaving a bloody carcass for the flies and maggots to eat.

Finished, he stalks back to his lair,
Unaware all the while of the watchers, spies, assasins, poachers
The hunting.
His powerful body rippling with strength,
Magnificent in all his majestic glory,
Coat shining with health and a cursed beauty.

The watchers decide, and act,
Leaving a bloody carcass for the flies and maggots to eat.
No feline grace,
No orange fire,
No bold stripes of black upon his back,
Stripped of all his weapons and life,

Taken for some strange doctor to make medicine from,
A superstitious cure-all that costs  hundreds, thousands, more then most can pay,
And his fire and stripes for some lady to wear upon her back at her soiree.

And all that's left of the hunter turned hunted,
A bloody carcass for the flies and maggots to eat.