Poem of the Day, Listen & Be Heard Weekly

The panther in his jungle of stone meticulously seeking
where first should he roam
Moody.....dark is he, blood hot with fever
eyes round like seeds
He lurks in the shadows as he whist through the trees
who dare follow? Who feels the need?
His jungle has lights, lit up moon bright
his ground has no grass, just broken up glass
his prey is boastful standing real proud
puffing his chest up, roaring real loud
inside heÕs powerless, outside heÕs not
no time for senses, only immediate defenses
he must find refuge so he moves like the wind
his heartbeat is heard; but only by him
with silent hesitation, he finds a destination
the trees are filled with mockingbirds
to claim his defamation
while mechanical hunters search all through the night
he flees to take flight, escaping his plight
unaware that his destiny was already staged
reluctantly immobile, now he sits caged

POETRY KIT WEBRING

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