Dark Poetry #2 |
They're back.. |
catalinamoon
since 2000-06-03
Posts 9543The Shores of Alone |
Such depressing news today, hunting time is starting. Precious deer no longer safe, bullets soon are flying. Shots ring out, destroy the peace of quiet country roads. Sadly, my next "natural" view will be of a dead doe. She'll be strapped onto the trunk, the macho man drives by, so proud of all his killing but she's the one that dies. In the yard, there is a buck He hangs from an oak tree, bleeding out his lifes remains, he should be running free. Most other views I handle with equinamity, this one offends me too much to quietly agree. Meanwhile babies search in vain, no more love from mother. She's become a hunter's prize, just like all the others. |
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© Copyright 2000 Sandra - All Rights Reserved | |||
JamesMichael Member Empyrean
since 1999-11-16
Posts 33336Kapolei, Hawaii, USA |
Well said cat...James |
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Isis Member Ascendant
since 1999-09-06
Posts 6296Sunny Queensland |
There is nothing I hate more than senseless animal killing... *sigh* Isis *I believe every time you put your words to paper, you change. Each feeling is set free, and you may follow.....* ~Isis~~Sovereign of the Spirit. |
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nakdthoughts Member Laureate
since 2000-10-29
Posts 19200Between the Lines |
I, too dislike the hunting but it is so much a part of where I live. ~Wynter "The worst prison would be a closed heart". ...Pope John Paul II |
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firecrakker Member
since 2000-10-20
Posts 235Virginia |
Hey catalina! I share your sentiments here... I know that there has been a purpose for this in times past, and perhaps, is needed now also.. I just can't find the justification in it. I would rather eat grass and tree bark than to depend on useless slaughter excused by sportsmanship. Good job, here! Sheila |
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Victoria
since 2000-08-12
Posts 5869 |
When i lived in the country thats what i loved about it..being able to look out my window and watch the deer roam about..no way i could shoot one of those beautiful creatures...nicely written Sandra.. ~Victoria~ A poem is never finished, only abandoned. - Paul Valery (1871-1945) |
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