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Poem

From hunting comes 
From hunting drums
From hunting hums
All bright stars
Near and far
In New York or Trafalgar 
Those stars in skyscrapers
Those dazzling gold vapours
The government shapers
The controller of all papers
All go on hunting 
And keep counting
And measuring sometimes too
In the treasury

Keep your eyes open
The lids may shut up
Keep the cup wide
You will see everywhere
Ensnaring unaware
The tiger killing the helpless deer
Deer who love destiny
Who worship deities
Members of the laity
Dependent on goddesses and gods
In their odds
Fall very easy prey
To the hunters obsessional play
Their God has no say
In the decay
By hunters in dust they lay
Shrunk tottering mewing aching
Finally breaking down
Into the absolute immobility
Thanks to the myriad kinds
Of the guns of the hunters behind


I perk up my ear
In the civilized forest
And hear the guns
Nuns and monks are in readiness for nursing
Churches mosques temples towering for services
What a grace
My every molecule encapsulated in attention
Hears the sound of the gun
And feels the consequent death
The blue sky we love so much laughs nonetheless
The ground underneath
Is moistened in crimson red
Black velvet

First hunt the doe, a decoy
Leopards and tigers follow in joy
We are all pretty toy
In the hands of the hunters
We look on in wonder
Of grandeur of the capital 
Take or surrender

You may grunt
Fruitlessly
Willy Nilly
You have to join the hunt

____________________________________________________________
30/10/2016
Not for contest since the lines have exceeded the stipulated limit which I failed to notice when I first read the contest details.

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