Poem | |
Featuring: Leonora Galinta
Take My Hands
I Offer Them To You
Hold Them Tight
Never Let Go Of Them!
With all the time on my hands
I gave my hands one job.
My hands paint everything in my life
they paint my weakness, my strength
they paint the fire in my eyes
they hold me when I'm cold
my hands colored my childhood!
Like an architect,
my hands drew the plans and layouts of my life.
My hands *very articulate, are they?
They continue to sew and show the way
Sometimes, my hands paint the truth
Sometimes, my hands paint lies
Painting hurtful images on dry wall
My palms, my fingers embedded calluses from every fall
Creating images, healing my heart
Sometimes my hands are the only friend I see.
With no words to say
I caress the sky line like a mime
My hands ride the wind,
My hands paint a world,
each of their own.
Young and pretty finger prints
They feel, they hold, they grip
Don't let go!
Clever and cute
It's time for motherhood
My hands painted your first hold
Traced your first smile
A painting I treasure forever in my heart
Yes! A Rembrandt they became during birth
Now your all grown up... :-(
Embarrassed to embrace the hold
One day when I'm old you will hold my hands and remember the gold.
My hands paint many designs when it comes to love
sometimes a masterpiece
sometimes a mistake
sometimes my hands felt images I can't describe
Made up moments of handicap when lost
My hands perfect when in love
They write songs when complete
So many interlock moment with you
Firm, the perfect match, my fingers spoke.
they've been told
held so many times
always meeting, greeting,
waving hello's and goodbyes... ((you see my hands, they smile too))
Pinching my way through reality.
Reaching holding on to dreams.
Snapping fingers, we are a team.
My hands age in every turning page
Shriveled and old
Still you embrace and love the hold
my hands touch and make a difference
my hands learned a lot
my hands prayed
and knew their duty.
My hands employed by me.
When they are bored,
they tap and tap and draw THAT' annoying noise.
My hands know secrets, a fortune teller can never reveal
they hold the past, present, and future in every line.
I extend my hands,
without flipping the bird
Thank you Hands!
I am enjoying the sign language show.
In my next life, or so
I will praise my hands
Yes so beautiful, tender, they love to feel...................
I can't believe with all the time I have on my hands.
I forgot to mention I'm left-handed.
Poem | |
-A poet in heat-
Ink carries its own tale,
When moonshine intoxicates your pen
Bottles of ink fill your mind
Composing symphonies on every line
Drops of passion all over the mask you wear
Nothing compares to black stains and broken nails
This part of you
"A CAN'T BE REMOVED" tattoo
The tough skin you'll ever live in
Fountain pens of split identities
Who Are You?
Sinking words like no other
Poisoned ink piercing every rhyme
Inferior poet, making the heart pure
Anger plus anger "GIVE ME MORE!"
You have a desire to paint all day,
Breathing and beating in every way
Toxic lines, from which ink flows
Inhaling images from the world
Deep and cold sorrowed emotions
True love is always easy to poetize
Dear Poet: "Ink Never Lies."
Pretty pink acrostic ink when she's nearby
Sugar and salt, Epic taste of reality
Ballads sung under the full moon
Sunny Sonnets, on any rainy day
Ode's of rivers from your past
A dark smile jotting down memory lane
Monologue tears brought under pressure
Loading cartridges of fresh Senryu and Haiku"
Dramatic red runs through your veins when all is done
Unfolding old and new propagandas
POET: You are my favorite verse in every stanza
((Only this, and nothing more))
Writing is like giving birth
Poem | |
I called to the winds of autumn
As they wrapped up the dying year;
"Oh stay for a moment and tell me
Of answers I need to hear".
Who is the rival of prudence
Who is the merchant of crime
Who closes the eyes of beauty
And steals the hours of time?
Who brings the winter to age
From the springs of the fountain of youth
Who is the companion of sorrow
And destroys the justice of truth?
Who's the apprentice of Satan
The Prince of the Power of Air
Whose appetite is transgression
With more than enough to share?
Who weakens the power of the great
Who slaughters the wisdom of wise
Who brings the honest and gracious
To depths that others despise?
The winds of autumn now answered
With a voice like a phantom call
"It's an evil afflicting so many
Who drown in the drink alcohol."
This is the spell of the devil
Who casts his net from hell
An addiction with power to destroy
Gathering all who are caught in its spell
For his net will gather the unwary
To beguile lost souls with his breath;
This is the destruction of lost dreams
That perish in the arms of death
Poem | |
I am the ring around Saturn
spinning words as particles of ice and dust
with the power to transcend
I am the original chosen to be right here right now
transmitting verbal frequencies
through speaking my thoughts into existence
I am the heir of omnipotence,
born with a direct connection to profound abundance
The one whose words will age, yet still have substance;
since there are no boundaries attached to my pen
I am constant energy
Translating personal experience into imagery
Vulnerable to tyranny,
yet i continue attempting to share some truth
through this abstract language of poetry
I am the core
I am that I am more
I am the Divine Presence that is the Source of my rewards
I am the green you get when you mix too much yellow with the blue
That shade of gold you get when the sun resides into darkness
and when it ascends in the dawn burning dew
I am the transition between the third and fourth dimension of time;
the love you feel when you realize how it feels
I am the poem that is abstractly direct
because I write beyond limits
absorbing frequencies from 3 to 8 hertz
through meditation for several minutes
I am the one bridging the gap between
the analog ascension and the direct connection to spirit
The one who is love
because I am a descendent of it
I am the rhythm that the wind blows
I am the beginning and the ending of stories told
about the universe and how miracles unfold
I hold the power to accept judgement from those who will do just that
Not knowing that I am them in the absolute reality of me
I am knowledge beyond measure because that is my right
So I continue meeting the different parts of me
when I meditate and write
Who am I?
I AM, THAT, I AM
Poem | |
. Like the UNICORN
At times I fear I am the mysterious of all animals.
Like the Unicorn I my self do not feel real
My inner beauty is the only thing you can steal.
I am my own mythological creature..
A roaming soul with a little will power to heal
Ages of my forgotten tear.
Like the Unicorns prophecy so unclear.
I compare your beauty to be the eye of my stare
I propose to you the one who possess a magical power so rare
Absorbing the energy of the sun in to my own spear
Untamed like the wild horse is the way I appear
I have no feelings of real existence, my life to you I compare.
Like you I want my thoughts and memories to disappear
Wasting away absorbing natures life
Drowning in my own and everyone's emotions
Haunted in the woods by a hunters knife.
Thousands of wolves hungry for my motions
Fallen in to thoughts of legends and myth
Pondering in a past life who am I with
I feel a touch upon my bones.
Am I he the Unicorn
A horse with one horn
Unlike the Unicorn who fell to exist
My suffering really does exist.
How I wish every thing about me was fake
Your magical beauty I can't resist.
To be like you hiding upon the mist
Like the Unicorn who is a horse when it has no horn.
I feel like a nobody when my life slips into the abyss
A depth of wishing to have never been born
With the vision of Heaven’s Realm with a Unicorn twist
Like the Unicorn who only exist in stories, Legends and Myth.
I come out of peoples mouths like a blown kiss.
Shedding many tears feeling all alone.
I want to be like the Unicorn who are bound to roam
Take me away from this wonders of thorns.
Give me a magic Medallion to free my spirit out of these pits
Infatuated with the gorgeous sight upon the Unicorns.
A passion among beauty is where my life fits.
Poem | |
Waking up to the depth beyond such things everyday
One day I choose to walk and become Queen of Mandalay
In the depth of my ocean mind
I Find my soul diving and trying to unwind
Peer pressure can not handle all the empty space
Avoiding the worlds relativistic mass by the human race
Over using the power giving to me
Sleeping at times disappointed by humanity
I walk in darkness to help you reach the light
I twist the darkness to give you a better sight
Walking at the edge of all things with the ability to precept
Using logic to compare and intercept the emotions we can not accept
With the emotional picture of a fast heart beat
Wiping out the brain waves with a mood in heat
Giving enough flow to the power of intuition
Exceeding the knowledge without the book of Revelation
Receiving the pointless pain in a persons chest
A wreck who ignores the emotions to digest
A mood string of self manipulation eating away at the mass of reality
Some viewers are so unperceptive, a low self esteem of stupidity
A curse a gift with ability to know everything, illusions of feeling it
with an emphasis so useless you can not admit
Trusting one day came with a price, alerting my ego on strong
Using my energy to direct the purpose of the wrong
Walking like a tool threw out the worlds philosophy
A weapon of thought not meant for the mindless or monstrosity
The hidden riddles of life are the ones before your eyes
Grasping the concept with the attention of ending lies in our lives
Proceeding the ethics of the center of ones endless layer
accepting the birth of all responsibility, over the edge of a mind player
I gave the thought with a natural twist of a moving spear
Expanding the horizon of the hemisphere
Edge walkers down and broken standing without
Walking straight forward with the same God and Devil in doubt
Simply looking through "rose colored glasses."
Chaos from the ugliness of avoiding the large body masses
Balancing out the change to allow the flow
follow logical emotions, that destroys a mind blow.
causing the opposite to any action
effect the law of any equal reaction
expect to accept the unexpected, a dull way of life
connect the keeper of the masters weapon knife
with religion comes weakness of not standing tall
with the strong perception of life even one can fall
Standing without the generations of a crawler
living as a shadow he or she who believes the edge walker
Poem | |
In the cemetery I walk, so dark it is this night.
Hoping that the Ghouls won't start to bite.
I feel the tug of the dead, as each grave I pass.
Thankful this nervous tension won't last.
Armed with my Animation supplies,
I stare out at all the green glowing eyes.
A chicken for my blood sacrifice,
Raising the dead, there's always a price.
The salt keeps the dead inside.
Using the machete our magic, we'll ride.
Salt is for everybody's protection.
Cold steal seals out any deception.
To prime the earth so the dead will rise,
cast the blood and create our ties.
Focus my energy and the ground starts to shake.
Winds whip through the area and the on-lookers quake.
I command all that is at least 3 days dead.
Just enough time for the soul to move ahead.
Born with this power as a Necromancer,
When I will my power all the dead have to answer.
I look to Sandra Hudson, who hired me,
to raise the dead and hear their screams.
I call Illyanna De La Keur from her deep, dark grave.
Her words are scary so be very, very brave.
For John Loving III's "Haunted Poets Society"
Poem | |
why bark for oneself
when gullibility rules,
the runt of the cur
rushes to aid one’s master
rogue awaits to shuffle pack.
©Harry J Horsman 2014
Poem | |
"LADY DEATH" ------Chaos!!!
Craving life was all of 'HOPE' desire.
Torturing her into the odyssey of Hells fire.
Ending her in heartbreak by her own insane,
cruel father Matthais.
A demon so obsessed with dark power.
Head demon to all hells devour.
Matthais allowing his beloved 'HOPE' to be burned.
In a hellish death as a witch.
Pleading for her life.
All 'HOPE' is lost,
in a pit of endless broken bones.
The supernatural appeared in front of 'HOPE'.
'HOPE' complied and renounce to give up humanity.
Tricked by demons who lied.
Manipulated that this would save her sanity.
A power bestowed with a creation so rare.
A Demi Goddess of destruction.
Chaos soon will inflict every hour.
With death in her place, she turns in to,
a cold blooded Diva of Death.
Reliving in the plague of dark ages.
Angels and Demons flow through her blood.
With contradiction of many stages.
Many evil forces out to end her existence.
Betrayed by all she knew.
Now she is locked in a demonic resistance.
Defeating Lucifer herself.
Blading the neck of the prince
Death lusting for power in an epic battle.
Lost forever in the era of judgment.
Revenge she claims on her throne.
Making Lucifer's power her own.
A forever endless graveyard.
Restoring into the blood of her new home.
Making hell tremble, many slay to death's assault.
Death arising to all her faults.
Declaring the lost of 'HOPE'
A mans worst nightmare in the sweetest form.
Over throwing her one time dream.
Obsessed with his Lady'''
Rides by her side.
A domino of all killers.
In a blood bath stream.
Killing everyone in his & her path.
Killing for her love, his Lady Death love.
Pondering about her lifeless soul.
"All HOPE is gone!"
all that is left is death.
Lord of hell
On a mission of Mega Death.
To conquer all of earth.
Men killing for her demonic way.
Evil Earnie matching to the depth of her Odyssey.
With the belief .
That behind every good man, (EVIL EARNIE)
is a good women.. (LADY DEATH)
((Lady Death is a character in her own CHAOS ))
Poem | |
THE POWER IS GREATER!
The Big Bang designed the stratosphere and troposphere.
Below both majestic presence, Earth is the topography.
Today, all God’s creature roams freely.
Human being munificence is magnanimousness.
Now sits a child fulfilled.
She has her ink pen.
She aspires to be a writer – a great poet someday.
She is real to a righteous path.
Her themes and topics display a certain initiative.
God’s kind of poetry she leitmotifs vigorously and the melodies manifested.
A theological epitome inner cores and personification of the spirit went aglow.
Her radiance was beautiful.
Her voice recited the glory of the omnipotent.
God had sent the gift of psalm and she embraced him with open arms.
Baptism converted her soul to be a modern-day Apostle of the Lord God.
Prophecy she formed.
Wisdom and knowledge was born.
Her innateness was so strong that she was a natural.
Her libretti brought smiles.
When a release was necessitated from emotional dismay, her librettos bring hope and puts God’s speed in place.
The Lord God sent the gift of psalm.
In a whisper, is the strength of voice.
The Lord God provides the power.
The people exclaim, “This is God’s kind of poetry.”
Eloisa proclaims, “This is praise and worship of the omnipotent."
PENNED ON SEPTEMBER 19, 2014 @ 12:48 A.M.!
Challenge Title "God's Kind Of Poetry' Contest!
Poem | |
Death and destruction reigning in filth over dry bones
kings ruling over weaker souls with little hope,
drowned deep, cast overboard loaded with misery stones
unmercifully hung with no justice and short rope
So proudly the kings rule over subjects so very poor
no concept of the natural rights of mortal man,
having power , treasure and selfish desires by the score
completely unconcerned with life's ever so brief span
Shallow pleasures lusted without thought of coming reward
stolen time and freedoms from more deserving souls,
unmindful of the many stolen lives so desperately scarred
judgment awaiting in deeply unforgiving , darkened holes
Reigns of tyranny reaped as bushels of rotten fruits
while spirit raping of better women, children, and men,
falsely rewarded homage paid from wickedly evil roots
soon to be given eternity in their evil Master's den
Robert L. 05-25-2014
Read a book this morn on the great Empires long since destroyed,
with more of the same always filling the void....
Mankind simply refuses to ever learn...
Poem | |
The leaves they dance... the leaves they fall.... the whisper of the wind
One more season... one more year... the change, it now begins
For many years your presence felt... the trees prepare to sleep
As I wonder at your work... your voice begins to speak
The trees they bow as you approach... your power now displayed
I close my eyes and drift away... my thoughts of life replayed
Breaking through the whistling wind... another I do hear
Who is this you’ve brought with you.... whose memories I hold dear?
"It’s me my love... I’ve heard your thoughts"…".I sought and found a way"
Please tell me where you’ve been my love... what do you have to say?
"My time did come"…"I had to leave"…"so much you do not know"
What power brings you now to me…on winds that billows blow?
"I only came to say hello"… "to see you one more time"
Times did change…I did move on…another love is mine.
"Listen to the words I say" …"and cherish memories all"
I’ve thought of you so many times…your memories often call
"The wind it blows"... "I must now leave"..."but hear these words my love"
"Enjoy your life"…"Do all you can"…"Until your journeys done"
"Your voice will speak to her one day"..." when winter winds do blow"
"The voice within the whispered wind"…"only she will know"
"One day the leaves will dance and fall"... "and she will think of you"
"Your life will be remembered then"…"the voice will then be you".
The leaves they dance... the leaves they fall... the whisper of the wind.
One more season…one more year…..the change…it now begins
Poem | |
The master forces his clowns to laugh
when polka dots become the wearers.
An audience roars…a pained choreograph;
behind the scene, the wounded howl tears.
What man is he who tugs the moppet strands?
Twisting acts at whim for raunchy tricks
and controlling moves through strict demands,
only to bruise the shame he inflicts.
The crowd hollers as he waves the rope
Oh master gloats; new slapstick begins.
Hushed are the young mimics just to cope,
till one bawls ,” please Dad, we are your kin.”
John Lawless' Puppets Contest
by nette onclaud
Poem | |
Lines Life and our Faith in God
Is it possible to divide lines?
Which are of numerous types and kinds,
Like life, which always appear in different,
Forms, colors, shapes and types.
But when all these types and kind of lines disappears,
Covering the sheet of darkness,
What is left is only a tiny dot,
Which has no end and has no beginning.
From a tiny dot only life and every thing began one day,
And in a tiny dot every thing would vanish one day,
Leaving no lines of any kind bold or thin,
On the sands of time,
What would ultimately be left, as the last impression,
Would only be a tiny dot, much smaller than the rolling tears of eyes.
The Universe also started from a dot,
Even all universes and galaxies, stars and planets,
Started from a dot created by God,
And every thing ultimately would vanish,
One day in the darkness of a dot, like black hole,
About which we almost know nothing,
Except that every thing including the earth, planets, stars,
Even our body and mind and its high rising aims and ambitions
Would ultimately get lost in the magnetic darkness of the
Black hole, which is nothing but another form of a dot.
The creative and destructive power of the dot,
Is right before us in the form of a computer,
Which builds, learns and teaches every thing,
Starting and ending from tiny tiny dots,
And places before us humans and nature,
Animals and creatures, in their true forms, except
They do not breathe, love and hate like humans.
But humans are close to create a new dot,
Tomorrow it would breathe and talk,
It would think and walk and may also love and hate
And may be, it would start creating,
New types of humans and may start thinking himself one day,
As our new Creator or a new God.
I pondered, wondered and imagined,
What would happen, when this new God,
Would have a small amount of some power in his hand
And may become a new God for those,
Who do not believe in our faith and in our Almighty God,
As even a small amount of the power of creation and destruction,
May blind the weak humans to start thinking himself as the new God.
In such a situation, all lines of all types may disappear
For ever from us, which has so far,
Saved us from the total disappearance of our existence,
And has brought up like a child in every religion and faith,
So that we may flourish and bloom like his Nature
And may adore Him as,
Our faith or God or as our strong and bold Dot,
Which always loves us a lot.
Kanpur India 13th June 2006
Poem | |
i am with the roots
sending up my passionate blossoms
as a flight of rockets
Charles Bukowski, Penguin Modern Poets 13
I chose toile wallpaper
in muted blues
since pastoral scenes
refuse to budge
Pick that, girl,
and you get nothing else
I stood my ground
Our ninth move,
I only wanted
the repeating pattern
of that mill
would never turn
nothing was ever still
my mother lit sticks
of manic dynamite
which drilled holes in walls,
and drilled holes in my father
more chunks of himself
Afternoons shuttled me
with Bukowski or Plath,
Evenings, too, never settled,
the wind stayed up,
ripped pages from
But when hell
shifted even darkness into fester-reds,
I crept into pastels...
as untouched as the core of flame,
as motionless as Wedgewood
Poem | |
The Faithful Don (Mafia Boss) who bestowed loyalty,
Who read his bible,
Respite of the enemy who looked at him bitterly.
Integrity and honesty,
The words The Don never deserted,
Though he commands his bandits to murder,
He murders not the innocent,
But with righteous judgement he slays the wicked.
With a throttle of his own wealth,
He bestows to the poor.
With a helpless widow on the floor forsaken and forlorn,
He gives her his honour and deigns a heiress after her kind.
With a child who is fatherless,
He baptises the child and makes him his son.
With a church lacking needs,
He provides with the loyalty of Christ.
As the thoughts of the righteous are just,
Their way is life,
And in its path there is no death.
Oh what don has the loving kindness,
To provide for the needs of the poor?
Oh blessed art he, oh man of God.
There lives no other don who treats the people,
With gratitude and respect.
A dueteous Saint,
Considered among the people
An honsest porter,
No other to repaint.
Oh blessed art Ye.
Poem | |
Considered to be an ordinary wood
Was the cross at Golgotha where it stood
On which there lay a man with bad mood
Who was thought not to be fully good
On the cross came the strength that sought
For all those who are weak to have a thought
Of being free from him by whom they were bought
And become His friend who turned satan's plan to nought
On the cross was made public our healing
Through Jesus who for us is still waiting
To believe in God before whom He is now pleading
For all the sinners who into salvation are still coming
On the cross man has an encounter with righteousness
Bringing him into his rightful place of brightness
And having had the heavenly taste of holiness
He is able to maintain with his maker a sense of closeness
Poem | |
Jesus Christ Has the Power Over Any Addiction!
I often hear of people who battle addictions.
This often leaves many scars and afflictions.
There's counselors to help, "a dime a dozen."
Their patient could be a friend or a cousin.
As many battle lives filled with "pollution."
But too often, God is left out of the solution.
Many who need help are given little help at best.
Why they cope with fear, anxiety and stress.
The one who can help the most, is often left out.
As many miss what the real hope of life is about!
The very God who created mankind, knows all about us!
He sent his son Jesus, because he loves us!
We can trust him for his cleansing power!
He can meet every need! This very hour!
If you're battling an addiction and are losing!
Won't you let God be the one that you're choosing?
He’s powerful! And wants to help you so much!
Your life can be forever changed! By his touch!
Come one and all! Your needs, God shall supply!
Come and drink of his water which shall satisfy!
The sins and scars can be a thing of the past!
As you enjoy an abundant life, that'll always last!
The painful addictions can be healed this moment!
By the power and resurrection of Christ' atonement!
NOW can be time to lay your worries beneath him!
God shall restore those who diligently seek him!
Glory to Jesus! The victory's already been won!
All honor and praise to God's anointed one!
By Jim Pemberton 08/22/14
Poem | |
Strength is not the
nor the man who
moves mountains by
It is not determined
by weights lifted,
nor the beads of
sweat that trickle
from his brow.
It is not muscle. It
is not efficiency.
Strength is not ease
nor the prevention
of shedding tears.
It is not determined
by hills sprinted,
the lack of aches
and pains after
It is not hardness.
It is not power.
Strength is the rise
the man who moves
mountains by faith.
It is the lone
blossom daring to
bloom in snow,
the drive erected
from words meant to
It is persistence.
It is aspiration.
It is valor.
It is you.
Poem | |
‘The Power Of A Poet’ 32nd Senryu
Look How Devoted
The Power of A Poet
See How Words Spoke It
This Poem is My Tribute to:
Carolyn Devonshire (The Dove)
and James (The Highlander) Fraser
for your Powerful collaboration on:
Mother Nature's Revenge
It Was Truly Awesome
Poem | |
The power of God is a wonderful thing
Makes one man leap the other to sing
God brings joy in abundance too
Singing and dancing and healing virtue
The precious Holy Spirit will be your guide
The Spirit of truth speaks quietly inside
Teaching you about the Lord Jesus Christ
Revealing to you good spiritual advice
God wants your soul to really prosper
In every area, so reject the imposter
He’s given you the anointing to succeed
He’s says take my word and just prove me
He would never let his child down
So put on your armour and stand your ground
And tell the devil that he won’t win
I belong to God and he took my sin
To know the Lord is to be blessed
But don’t forget the trials and tests
God makes sure you’re true to Him
With little tests we learn to swim
When we’ve learnt to trust in Him
God trusts us with bigger things
So speak His word with boldness now
And praise God for the victory, wow!
©Copyright 27th January 2014
All Rights Reserved
Poem | |
Though I'll tell you what you want to hear
I'm not a prophet or a seer
My lies tap dance upon your soul
As your Cinderella dreams unfold
Bullshit woven to the letter
Assuring you there's no one better
Than me, to fulfill your need
Your virgin ears begin to bleed
One more drink we do the dance
Another ruse into your pants
Crafted words depth with skill
Now closing fast in for the kill
It's always just about my pleasure
Silk smooth lines cut to the measure
Crystal clear what was my aim
Reflecting on your walk of shame
Poem | |
The small pebble sinks,
The Huge steel ship floats and sails,
lost and found in waves.
Poem | |
The land has
much to teach us
is a place
Where evil has been defeated
The warm hearths
of the Shire
The bravery of
of the dwarves
and the gorgeous
singing of the Elves
on a summer night
leaves us with a
that we have visited
a better world
than our own
The worlds of imagination
can seem more than our own lands
We are taking a trip to Middle Earth
and will be there all evening
Poem | |
A stealthy tiger stalks his prey
His eyes alight with cunning gleam;
And tho' the world may peaceful seem
The lissome springboks graze and play --
The danger lurks, not far away
He crouches low, his muscles taught
While calculations fill his mind
The perfect arc of force to find;
His quarry, still without a thought
Of what design the tiger sought
The tiger springs, the creatures flee
His mighty limbs with awesome force
Perform their planned and deadly course;
Now lies the springbok piteously
Forever torn from things that be
And o'er his corpse presides the prince
His solid jowls bespecked with blood
His razor claws in crimson flood;
He glories in these trickling glints
That show his skill in ruby tints
And when the prince has et his fill
The birds descend to eat the rest
To feed the young ones in the nest;
But on the tiger roams at will
He's free to wander, hunt, and kill
Written on the twenty-eighth of July, 2013