The Wild's Ways

July 29, 2012
Custom User Avatar
More by this author
Through binoculars I see him from a-back
frolicking, jumping, and bucking around.
A squeal escapes his lips and sounds
back to me in the distance, a frown I lack.
A bucking bronco, his coat sheer as black
jostling up other colts, the class clown.
The alpha rears and strikes, gifting a severe wound.
My jaw drops, sitting helplessly a-back.

No longer a member of the herd
the colt surrenders, his foolish days over.
It’s too late, the choice an irreversible black hole.
He will die on his own, one friend a bird.
Blocked from the rest like a game of Red Rover.
It’s the cycle of life that I sigh at its immature soul.

Join the Discussion

This article has 2 comments. Post your own now!

DanielM said...
Aug. 8, 2012 at 12:21 pm
This poem is awesome. Great emotion!!!! I really like the middle stanzas. Great detail and great tone. Keep it up
caitiekate replied...
Oct. 9, 2012 at 7:13 pm
this may be really late, but thank you!!! glad you liked my sonnet (:
bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback