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On Prey
Wild is the frightened goose
Who flees from bounding feet
Glancing back
At the rifles’ dance
And stumbling through the air
Bite at life with sweaty beak
Just to have it—
Wrenched away!
By a gunshot from the hunters
Then smoke and feathers
And blood
A fading sound of thunderclap
Then a fall to dirt and dust
Merry are the feasting men
Who sup on roasted bird
Flesh on wooden table
A meal of victory!
But watch them walk in later days
The flapping forms
Of frightened souls
Which fate will come to fetch—
With a flash of lightning
Or is it
Gunshot—from the sky?
To squirm in nets of Judgment
With a sentence of vapor—and Truth
They’ll recall the clamor of sudden death—
How familiar the sound!
Then retire to giant ovens
And fall to the wretched plates
Of a party of demons and of gods
Who make a meal—of men!
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This article has 28 comments.
This piece particularly enchanted me, though I can't exactly quite put my finger on it as to why.
I have always rather despised hunters, or in better words, the act of hunting. To paraphrase a quote from the eloquent John Green, I like to minimize the deaths I instigate in this world - one of the major reasons why I have chosen to become a vegetarian and have stuck with it.
Can you hear it?
Or are you even listening?
Ah, I feel rather foolish now.
And yet, if a poem is as worthy as you describe, it doesn't need to be published in a magazine to touch the world.
Really?!?! Congratulations, Aderes! We all knew you had it in you. :)
How are you going to celebrate?
And it makes it all the more pleasing when from their grumpy-shells they do emerge. Feeding time.
Ah, I see. Yellow, yellow, yellow. La la la. Ta dida da.
Yes, actually. Geese are just grumpy. Doesn't mean they can't come out of their grumpy-shells every once in awhile and be friendly, though ;)
Preparing corn to be frozen for the winter, and putting together a gift of sunflowers, not anything you wouldn't know about, really.
Really? That is entirely good to hear!
No, not really, though once, when I lay in the field being the earth, they sauntered up to me, and let me pet and feed them. It didn't last long, though.
The girl is especially mean, that is why the name Narissa suits her.
Yes, the color of sunflowers and mountains of homegrown corn :)
You always do seem to find the best descriptions for what I write. As if you know my poems better than I do. Perhaps you are chanelling the ideas for my poetry into my head, so that I may feel proud to have written something. :)
Really? How wonderful! Are they friendly?
A yellow brain is usually happy for me, and peaceful, like wandering through a meadow in the afternoon. Like an old, happy story than grandparents tell. Is it the same for you?
We have geese, did you know they can live to be fifty years old?
They are a male and a female, named after Nathaniel and Narissa from 'Enchanted'. The names are well suited to them.
My brain is yellow right now, to almost answer your question and challenge.
"Bite at life with sweaty beak"
How entirely vivid, dear, it settles in the heart, a cone-shaped pool of itchy delight.
I can certainly see how a swan could represent love.
Wouldn't you just love to fly?
