Poached by Night


A lion stalks by night and day.
Woven by gold, not blue or grey.
Prowling by night, seeking prey.
Regality embodied was the creature.
Sleek, lithe, with mighty jaws.
But his most discerning feature?
For his pelt, many would break the law.
Legs like tree trunks let him bound.
Ears attentive to any sound.
Freely the king surveys his kingdom.
As suddenly, a bullet wings him.
Hunter becomes the huntéd.
Apparently someone wants his head.
The cat of sun tries to run
But not even gods can outspeed guns.
A round of truest aim fired.
Now the end seems dire.
These bullets struck his core.
Turning the proud prince into gore.
The culprit streaks out of the darknéss.
Finally he saw he created a mess.
The lion's life hanging by a thread
Only then began to instill him dread.
Then THUMP! Landed the king...
Dead.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem