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Svetoslav Mar 25
black cats hunting mice
on a concrete alley --
   night sight revealed
neth jones Nov 2020
snare is sprung
flesh from the forrest fruit
the humming drum
         of its fright
an untamed meat
          struggles like the life
wirey noose tightly
wrist hook and thumb
ridden to bone
energy shrugged
        in fits of the struggle
defeat
     and then the meat
        is untenanted
Apollo Nov 2020
teach me how to hunt
hold my hand, take me with you
show me your world
I want to hear the snap of a bowstring
in the silent forests
I’ve tasted the sting of an arrow’s head
I know how true they fly
they know exactly where to strike
who knew
that the softest plate in my armor
was just over my heart
Lily Priest Jul 2020
The tang tastes of fright
Coppery like the penny-worth
Of thoughts from those that spy us
Leering long looks
At the guts and gleeful guzzling
Of poor beast that was beating
The earth with free hoofs
And eyes large, white-ringed brown;
That sight that had us
hunkering and chuckling.

Beneath the ****** rueful moon
We must look a site,
High and dizzy with that leaking
Lifeforce that warms the cold away.
Blue with the rays
And red with the crime,
Caught shame faced as it dribbles
Down our chin and into the dirt.
Katherine Jul 2020
Your devotion has no bite, and I
Need it, love like war, love like a hunt,
Love like the end of the world.
Floater Apr 2020
They claim a wolf in sheep's clothing
But I was raised a fox on a hunters fence
If finding me was easy
Why then does this crowd seem so tense?

If two birds with one stone was a hit
Then the ovation is running late
What praise does six permit?
Who swapped your gloating for hate?

Forgive the misdirection
What's your greatest fear?
Please keep your social distance
Who armed the teen cashier?
Tara Apr 2020
Find me, chase me, pin me to the ground
I am yours, fierce lioness
Yours to hunt and hound
Hurt me, hit me, throw me to the wind
I am yours, fierce lioness
Yours to scar and skin
Toy with me, free me, let me run away
I am yours, fierce lioness
Yours to mark as prey
Watch me, stalk me, make me ******* fear
I am yours, fierce lioness
Yours to catch like deer
Wound me, eat me, use me for your game
I am yours, fierce lioness
Yours to **** and maim.
Tara Apr 2020
Eyes like fire, burning with hunger
She has found her prey in you
Run from her or fight her
You stand no chance,
you are hers.

Body lithe, rigid, focused
She will toy with you
You are powerless in this game
The cat will catch the mouse
and the mouse will submit.

She barely moves, she is confident
You can't escape
She will do as she pleases with you
That is her purpose, her role,
she loves this play.

If you fight her, she grows bored, dull
You don't want that
Her fire excites you, sparks a fear
Fear that sparks a pleasure deep inside,
you do as she bids you.

Pretty little thing, she purrs
Her claws long, her teeth glinting with fresh desire
Her eyes even more so
She wants to taste your pure, soft flesh,
and she will.

She cares little for the aftermath
You are spent, she has just begun
Finished with her prey, her ego craves yet more
The game is won, she is the victor,
time to find another mouse.
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
Pellinore’s Fancy
by Michael R. Burch

King Pellinore was famous for hunting the Questing Beast, a rather odd, fantastical creature. Does its name suggest that the beast was dreamed up, or invented for the purpose of questing after it? Perhaps Pellinore simply didn’t want to stay home and needed a good (if farfetched) excuse to furnish his wife . . .

What do you do when your wife is a nag
and has sworn you to hunt neither fish, fowl, nor stag?
When the land is at peace, but at home you have none,
Is that, perchance, when ... the Questing Beasts run?

Keywords/Tags: King Pellinore, questing beast, hunt, Arthurian, legend, myth, wife, nag
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