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Stanley Wilkin Dec 2018
Silently, shadowed by night,
Its eyes shining like tears,
It pads through the desolated undergrowth
Listening for sounds in the grass
The tripping of feet, the scampering
Crunch of paws. Lithely stepping
Through the trees, a mile further on
The fox sniffs the air. The stubbled moon
Flings down its steel-like shafts
Of thin even light, stabbing through
The gloom.

The stream flows around the dying plants
Breaking the bank. The River Vole slides down
Into the labouring water, older than the
Landscape it bites through, and it pounces
Grabbing the voles neck in its maw,
Ripping the flesh apart. The cat throws
It into the air, catching it again,
Its teeth rending off flesh. It pads back into the dark.

Nose delving into the air , the fox sniffs blood.
It turns towards the water
Breaking the bank, turns towards
Its slow sibilant sound, muzzle aloft
As if drawn upward by slithers of string,
The playful moon moving smoothly with the clouds.
The cat is shaken by its presence.
The grouse gabble in their fear.

The fox pounces, caught in the air
Floating as if in a snapshot
Held there by silvery light,
It lands with untroubled finesse
As the cat screams.
The stream blanches, the moon seems smug,
The night closes as the fox eats.
Steven Forrester Nov 2018
Thump thump
What is that?
Thump thump
There it is again
Thump thump
It's coming from inside
Thump thump
I'm starting to feel alive
Thump thump
Ice is falling from my skin
Thump thump
Is this a sign?
Thump thump
Shall I begin?

I see this face
It's beautiful
It's radical
How this image
Takes a hold of me
A *****
Veritably vanquishing
This viciously vile
And yes
I feel alive
At my door
I hear as opportunity knocks
Taking the form
Or figure
Of a fox
Slyly slithering
In to my thoughts
Eating away
My cage
And I awake

Was it just a dream?

I don't thinks so......
For Adrienne
David Abraham Nov 2018
Shot in his ribs;
he cries,
"Oh the dis-familiarity
of such a name,
oh the cruelty
of such a pain,
oh the game
of such a vain
and **** creature,
who slinks toward me!"
2246 November 7 2018
this is a narrative sort of thing
gracie Oct 2018
Keats says, "transcendence of the self",
so you become a fox, copper-coated,
bright-eyed. You become the light of a
harvest moon, playful and sweet,
dancing across the forest floor,
you become a lingering scent
on my thrift-store sweater: balsam or
cold brew coffee, wafting
through the bustling café. You become soft
Sunday afternoons, forehead kisses and
pretty words whispered over the phone,
the curl of my lip as I drift off
into sleep.
i think ur p cool
i like u alot
maybe we could... hang out? or somethin'
Blake Oct 2018
Once for the witches rabbit hole
And twice for the foxes hymn
While one began to pluck her mole
The other tricked and teased men
Though two and the same
They’re known for different years
And both are to blame
For trickery and fears
-gabi p- Oct 2018
have you heard the legend of Calypso?
   doomed to live a century of solitude,
   until the cruel gods sent her
   she couldn't help
am i cursed like the daughter of a titan?

  do you know about the Fox?
  tamed by a golden-haired
  untrusting of all other humans,
    only to have him go away.

and i can't help but
  when i hear the wind
   on the wheat-fields,
for they remind me of you.
we had such little time.
Andrew May 2017
The teacher stands before her detained class
And from behind her authoritative podium
She equates abortion to the holocaust
A dangerous comparison in an educational garrison
But the other children nodded their heads in agreement
A benefit of having the ear of youth
Is being able to infect it with your own toxic ideology
What bacteria did this ear infection consist of?
Conservatism? Religiosity? Chastity?
The answer was depressingly simple
I was the only one there unaware of Fox News
I was a casualty of the confusion
The confusion engendered
By venom thoughts placing politic-colored glasses
on the entrenched masses
Used to convey anger and hate
Emotions worth conveying
But not living in
The intents and desires of their vulnerable receivers
become an incongruous disaster

What could I have done?
Minds as still as the pharaohs heart
We live in a society where we're all infantilized by one myth
Good and evil
Looking back on what I did do
I didn't do much
But I did do something
I didn't nod my head like a ******* syncophant
The trees are a kaleidoscope of the green  
rivets of sunshine peak through the canopy of leaves
as the light flows to the forest floor.
Vines wrap their arms around the trunks of the trees
climbing to reach the sun
Each desperately fighting for the just a piece of the warm glow
Robins, swallows, and Cardinals all sing their songs
as they glide from branch to branch
filling the woods with their symphonies.
A fox dashes across a steady stream
leaping over rocks and fallen logs
making his way home again.
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