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hellopoet Oct 2015
● you'd think we could
just cut and paste away
to change things around

deleting ● what's ● not
then inserting what's hot
and she'll be all right●nah!

we can't flick the channels
or download a ● new ● app
for life, hard as we might try*




●○

Batool Aug 2015
When the darkness sets in
and you let it consume you
it feels like falling;
falling in a bottomless hole,
and under its pulling force
you feel your demons stirring
finding a way
to get out
and to take over ...
Clawing your soul from inside
getting restless,
causing pain,
so you just decide to
unleash them
and let your demons out
for a HUNT !!
Nelize May 2015
Within the fields of grace
and moving waltzing wheat fields
moves the spotted feline with pace
black tears run down its face and yields
to the sun's tangerine gaze

The rythmic thomping of paws through grass
with undivided focus so clear
every step as fragile as glass
sounds perilous behind this feeble deer

Colossal strides that fly through air
pefected anatomy claws down its goal
rules of nature have never been fair
but one must know the key is survival
this deer now knows its fatal fate
is nature's gift to the cheetah's plate.
dazmb May 2015
out in the tundra
there is never
the gentle end
you long for
just eye teeth
that pursue you
for a glint of sky
deep in the bone
Jacquelyn Morgan May 2015
Noli Me Tangere
Do not touch me
I am the deer that eludes the hunt.
The thick beating drum that rests by my lung,
Is no ones to scoop out or to conquer
Round’ my neck droops -a necklace of daisies,
Withered off-white six-seasons sun-bright
A gift from the Artist;
Whose soul twined with mine,
Deep roots and thick vined.
Our fruits once plump ripe, now lie rotten
Plucked from my presence, forgotten
The essence of Wild & Free- we ran rapidly,
From, institutions, illusions, dogma, delusions
I am he and he is me. a painting, verse, a memory
& now I flee alone, paintbrush tail, no home
To hunt me is in vain.
I am the bohemian- I am never tamed
Noli Me Tangere
Do not touch me
this poem was inspired by Sir Thomas Wyatt's poem titled, Whoso List to Hunt
Tingling thoughts of ******,
dangling through the branches of trees
As if dread from an uncertain past;
further floats among the living effigies.

A whisper from long ago still echoes,
where people dare not put foot.
A place, where time slows
A place where men once stood.
PrttyBrd Apr 2015
Buffalo abound
Providing all with one hunt
Sustaining the tribe
42515
10w
The Retard Apr 2015
A wave of silence spreads,
As I stalk my prey,
Hidden out of its sight,
In human tall grasses,
I proceed in stealth,
With each calculated step.
Unwavering focus and complete caution,
For all would be lost with just an unnecessary action.
Eyes drilled on the target,
Canines licked clean by my impatient tongue,
Moving in the lust of tasting a deer young.
It's hard to mask all that killing intent,
To hide in a plain sight,
And pounce within a frame.
Only a thought keeps me going,
**** or get killed as goes the saying.
To run faster than the fastest,
To dig those godly claws; devil for some,
And bring down the strongest.
Drag down the prey,
Taste its cold sweat,
And those body fluids of helplessness and despair
Just before its death,
As I savage its flesh.
              
              - *The ******
Grizzo Apr 2015
You are my
favorite,

the first

I could pick out,

among far off lights
in chaos.

You shone to me
in Strawn, Texas
when I was a child
with my grandfather
on his deer lease.

You were the last
I saw before bed,

You were still there
when we woke
in the early morning.

You are a hunter too,
your bow pointed forth,
and sword
hung low,
like the gods
used the stars
to sketch something
inappropriate,
like the sky was their science
journal from
middle school.

You followed me
like the bear.

I saw you
on Fall nights
in college,
on my back
in my backyard
with burnt ash
on my T-shirt,
through an
unfocused
tequila telescope.

But now, in this city,
I don't see you
as often, or maybe
I've seen you the wrong
way all along.

Maybe like we see the world
from the floor down,
we see you hunting the bear
when in mirrored reality, you run
from the beast

and I can't blame you
because we all
do,

or maybe
you're not even there
anymore,
we just don't know it
yet, because as fast as things
change, like
youth,
seasons,
perceptions,

Maybe you've burnt out,

Maybe the bear caught you
swallowed you whole
into his black-

stomach.

Maybe I should
start running
so he doesn't
catch me too.
NaPoWriMo #5 using the prompt from day 2.
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