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Apr 17, 2011
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Lobo's Hunt
Born in the wild
Learning to survive
Before he was weaned
Cold, calculating eyes
Set upon the prey
Brindled fur
Stood on the edge of anticipation
Methodical stalking
Barely a rustle of leaves
The breeze carries a scent
Of live food afoot
Head lifts
Toward the full moon
A howl splits
The silence of the night
The hunt has begun
About This Poem
Style/Type: Free verse
Review Request Intensity: I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing Stage: Editing - rough draft
Comments
Eduardo Cruz
14 years 3 months ago
Chrys
Great imagery, I was ready for the hunt with you,
Great!
Eddie C.
scribbler
14 years 3 months ago
hello
wonderful poem for a night such as this. Maybe "head lifts"?..................stan
lou
14 years 3 months ago
Hi
This poem reminds me of Jack London's ' Call of the Wild,' I like it a lot.
lou
Pixee
14 years 3 months ago
Hi
I enjoyed reading your poem. You expressed everything so well it was as if I were in the story watching it. Nicely written, very descriptive like a movie. A definite 5 star!
Pixee
Candlewitch
14 years 2 months ago
Shades of Jack London!
A wonderful tale of the stirrings of life in the wild! I like it much!
Methodical stalking
Barely a rustle of leaves
The breeze carries a scent
Of live food afoot
love, Cat