by Joanna M. Weston
the fleeting sight of a tiger’s back
slipped through my peripheral vision
a sneaking smudge of yellow and black
a mere whisk of tail’s sedition
leading me further still to explore
ferocity’s ancient tradition
whether it is true he will gore
any human who comes into sight
with deeply bellowed rousing roar
or perhaps retreat without a fight
having been already amply fed
preferring to sleep through the night
hunkered down in an accustomed bed
within reach of deer recently dead
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Gore?
ReplyDeleteI like "gore" ... which I take to mean, he will turn to gore any human encountered.
ReplyDeleteThis is an homage to William Blake, I'd bet, "burning bright" here on the Internet.
meow, I mean MMEEOOWWWWWWWWWW. I like fleeting moment poetry.
ReplyDeleteNice work, Joanna.
ReplyDeleteI like the "mere whisk of tail’s sedition /
ReplyDeleteleading me further. . . ." Well done.
Many thanks, Anon, Gary, Rick, Bob, and GK. I wouldn't call it 'homage' to Blake, perhaps a smiling look-back? And yes, you're right, Gary, about 'gore'. I truly enjoyed writing this poem, it was fun:-)
ReplyDelete