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Jon Thenes Nov 2019
clothe      each     self     a      dupe

unclear  what we would  portray

cling      to      our      cur      beasts

zoo             of             personalities

and never the funds to feed them
Julie Grenness Aug 2019
Here am I, a fur detective,
What is a pet's perspective?
Fur friends make us happy, you see,
Have to return their love, ask me,
What would your pet say to thee?
Thanks for the cuddles, good company,
Thanks for meal and comfy bed,
Thanks for the snacks, enough said,
Message from this fur detective,
Turn your eyes to the pet's perspective!
Feedback welcome.
Growly Wolfus Aug 2019
I was born into this, something I never wanted.  And all of my life, I've been running, hunted.  We're being tracked down and slaughtered, chased, by people with fire as their ally, their weapons made of silver or simply wooden stakes.  You've run us into a corner and murdered all of my kind out of fear, not a shred of their existence left behind, proclaiming it was for everyone's sake.  I am the sole survivor, the last of my race.  I have vowed not to fall victim to the same fate.

You've claimed me to be a monster, but what does that mean?  The only monster I see is you.  Murdering and spreading rumors of my kind, you don't understand what I've been through.  Saying I've slain many, but you've killed more than a few.  Stop speaking of such things; it's hurting me.  Stop lying to yourself.  Why can't you see? Are you ignoring it purposely?  Look at me, into my soul, and realize the devastation caused by your pursuit.  Why can't you understand?  Monsters have feelings too.

Though, it is too late to go back to peace.  The people can only see something unreal, a fake part of me.  And now, I will never be free.  I'm forever running from your conceit.  I have done nothing to bring you to this.  I've cut off my horns, my fangs, and my claws to try and be a part of your bliss.  I burnt my fur and scorched my skin, but all I've done has been dismissed.  I have to hide in caverns deep.  In the cold and damp, I sleep, afraid to be found in my cavern keep.

I could never fight you, that would only make things worse than before.  My skin is covered in my crimson blood and I'm in pain from the scars.  In anguish, I roar.  My gargantuan, curled ebony horns lay broken and cast aside; my thick, midnight blue fur reduced to patches and strewn across my stone lair; my calloused pads raw from running; my weary eyes tortured and worn.  I've given up on living any longer.  It's better to die and to be conquered than to be caged and grow weak from hunger; so I step out of the cave, crawling out on all four; and I lie down, exhausted, on the forest floor.
This is my first rhyming storyline.  It stemmed from a thought I had.  "Who are the real monsters in our world?"   let me know if you like it.  I don't know if I should finish it.
Osiria Melody Mar 2019
My indifferent shelf of admonition
Sets a precedent for a series of irrational
Particularly, drops of consumable poison

This poison, you see, induces tranquility
But instills aggressiveness into your
My words are incoherent and
blurred like my deteriorating mind

My indifferent shelf of admonition
Sets a precedent for a series of
broken shards in the glass of life,
Particularly, drops of poison that
kills us to make us feel alive

One bottle of blithe at a time

Keep those bottles up on those shelves.
Arisa Mar 2019
I am the slither of fur in the night,
Glint of moonlight which captures the sleek
of a cat's back
And the ghostly glow
of a cat's eyes.
I once saw a beautiful black cat while walking home one night.
nja Jan 2019
It started off with some blues,
coz every panting night’s gotta start somewhere.
She took him by the hand and dragged his lanky limbs past the pub,
in the back alleys she read him poisonous poetry until they were both drooling.
She wrapped him up tightly in her furs,
he stopped breathing.
He was hers.
Aa Harvey Jun 2018
The Trapper

Through the deepest snow, I somehow carry myself forward.
In a biting cold wind that blows me back.
No other sound to be heard.
I have to find an animal to put in my knapsack.

With boots of old, made from a fallen foe.
The bear that once roared so loudly; roars no more.
At ten foot tall, he shrank my heart,
But the spear struck and he crashed down to the floor.
A cloud of ice burst up from all around his empty life;
This sorry sight is no longer the dreaded claw.

The darkness surrounds me; the burning fire my only companion.
Alone I travel, without rest, until the end of the campaign.

No dreams of peace, no calming presence,
Just hardship and cold ale; death is my only witness.
He follows my trail of footsteps, left behind to fade,
As the ice falls down upon me from all around;
This place is an ice sheet…I cannot let it be my grave.

The snow buries the landscape and erases all the memories.
This fairy tale image; half covered trees and lost wishes,
Of long forgotten beasts and long forgotten times.
All are left behind to rot, without record or witness.

No soul has passed through here in a thousand years.
No humanity to be found within a thousand miles;
As wolves howl in the distance, to spread their fear,
A sound in the air from the wings of an unseen flier.

The flies appear from nowhere to feed upon the animal;
It no longer has the will to have any desire.
No feelings at all, all meat stripped from the bones;
The body found by accident, as I fell through a hole in the snow.

This hidden bear cave, beneath the foot.
My bed for this night only; death is kept back, for once.
He cannot take me tonight; maybe tomorrow he will succeed,
For I am endlessly betwixt and in between,
The shivers that will end me and the rotten luck!
That leaves me to exist, as one of the living.

No future dreams; no hope of finding sanity.
I see ghosts in the shadows; they are haunting me
And as I finally collapse to my knees,
Before the giant that I must pass.
I pray for some guidance through the mountain;
A secret tunnel, perhaps?
Or maybe there will be a way to be carried upon high,
By angel wings; allow me to fly.

But the journey I take is along the hardest of ways
And I either keep on moving forwards on the trail of my prey,
Or I resign to this living and prepare myself to die.
A trapper’s life is to hunt the stalking beast;
It moves in the shadows, so I must too.
If I am to survive…first I must find something to eat.

(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
M Eastman Jun 2018
Long dark fur of blackest night
Round green eyes give sudden fright
Yawn her cares with stretching bite
Warms my lap when sits are right
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