Best Huntress Poems
A pursuer at an precocious age,
Instantly able to set the stage.
Unaware of the glare from a piercing stare,
Calculated thoughts and moments planned; the prey would be snared.
Indulging in oratory flights of beautiful language,
Enticed by a venomous tongue the prey languished.
Striking the first note of genuine eloquence,
The Huntress pillaged without rendering an element of forbearance.
The impending execution of the venom ignited an explosion,
That there was an instant expulsion.
From the impending death,
The prey took a long deep breath.
The craving of the Huntress had grown,
The prey subsided with a shuddering moan.
Towered by the Huntress’s shadowing eclipse,
Impetuous feeling the softness of her kiss.
@ Tunisia Torres
2/3/2009
She makes love
like a hungry lioness
I adore her shadow
the way it arches
performing upon the wall.
Her black hair flows
age and experience
makes her hunt for a lover
jungle fever in my bed.
She desires a skilled man
stalking through the tall grass
growling along the way
I wait for her scent.
I would hunt and kill for her
bringing her a fatted calf
stuffed with wild fowl
to celebrate her return...
~ ~
Ghost-striped by wild magic, night roams into the night
with a mystique like the darkness of the moon’s shaded face.
A jet silhouette with shadowed rosettes prowls ebon-air’s hue;
liquid-liner-black strides in silent fluidity
melts night into the night.
Susan Ashley
April 20, 2019
~Fifth Place ~
Contest: April 2019 Premier 7, Max 5 Lines
Sponsor: Brian Strand
*A black panther is a leopard with excessive melanin giving it its black coat. Like a regular leopard, the panther has black spots, but they are usually hidden by its fur’s black background but they can be seen in the light at certain angles, this is known as ghost-striping.*
The pricking sun starts to hide
when the stars unfurl their cloaks
The darkness starts to creep this evening
Oh I can feel my spirit rising
I stayed at the corner
And concealed by the dim
As I waited for them
With a see through dress
it reveals my fresh taut breast
and flaunt my crescent hips
Prowling, peering, peeping
like the voyeur moon
Scanning these passerby men
with a filthy eye
Ops, I spotted one!
"Pssst, pssst, pssst"
is an enchanting invitation
from this lovely siren
And I receive a glance
With a wink of an eye
he give in to mine
In my bed I prepared
sheets of smooth linens,
rose spattered floors
like a shattered virgin,
Sets of burning candles
weep my husband's leave
but their lights celebrate
my burning desires
He perfumed me with his breath
He oiled my body with kisses
fluids dripping in my flesh
Giving and receiving
Warm bodies colliding
Flesh against flesh
as this fire we unleash
Riding to pleasure
till we reach hell's depth
I'm a flesh huntress
who craves for flesh
I sling sweet talk
and bait my body
I need not snare
for that is man's desire
Don't dare to escape
As I cast sin's net
This poem is inspired by proverb's immoral woman...I am not pointing to a woman in
general...this is just a particular woman whom I also know....the point of view here is
shifting...
Biding her time, stalking her prey;
Knowing that far he can not stray
The huntress has readied her bow
And just waits for his heart to show
She’s set a trap and, once again
The hunted bites finding naught within
But false hope and the fresh new pain
Of another dart’s bright red stain
Her aim is true, never missing mark
A shot through ear straight to the heart
Finding company amongst wounds
That haven’t killed but surely doomed
Satisfied hunt, the quarry alive
For pain is all the archer strives
The game stays up and keeps coming
The Huntress smiles and keeps gunning
Shot after shot from near and afar
Each creating a brand new scar
Save for the one that sailed over head
And only scrambled his brain instead
Battered and bruised, not giving ground
Wanting to scream, making no sound
The hunted feels warm but shivers
Waiting for an empty quiver
But more missiles fly, tearing flesh
Slowly putting out fire in chest
That once burned full of amour
Now growing colder by the hour
She could put end to agony
“But where’s the fun in that?” says she
So she fires on with bolts of guile
At helpless prey, sad, in denial
Feathered shafts always boring in
‘Til weathered soul was beaten thin
And arrows bounced and couldn’t mark
When,
Soft warm flesh became cold stone heart
Huntress Of Forest Gems And Its Lush Greens
Huntress of forest gems and its lush greens,
That which rivals colors of peacock's preens,
Oft hidden in cool pools, and deeper glens,
Bold greens under blue skies eternal spins
Treasures seen by deep sight and lusting eyes
Beneath weeping moon and low midnight cries.
Her beauty penetrates souls of searching hearts,
Threads of depths that only Nature imparts
And garments of wealth philosophers wear,
Wisdom and history that some did share
Her sighs breathe rainbows upon earth's tables
wanton desires and mystical fables.
In youth, I trekked into her vast holds,
Comforted by warmth, in her bountiful folds,
Hours spent wandering in her sweetest bliss,
Now dreams and loves that I so dearly miss
Nights that saw bright moon shine upon her all
Campfires and lover's dreams within her call.
Dare I pray to see her face and much more,
Diamonds in green vaults and gold dust shores,
Jewels gleaming out from sparkling long streams,
Fresh as deep love's forgiveness that redeems
Dare I beg, for her touch and its soft kiss
And her song that sends this heart its true bliss.
These visions have held my heart bold and true,
Enchantment and memories as life's glue,
Soul's needs met in illuminating greens,
Heart and mind stirred by beautiful scenes
Can Time this wealth tragically destroy
Are there cures, Nature's powers can employ?
Huntress of forest gems, vanishing greens,
Save me as you did in my troubled teens,
Walk with me around your mystery bends,
Were we not once both lovers and best friends
Return again into heart and its dreams
Save me from Time's wrath and man's evil schemes.
Robert J. Lindley, 4-23-2018
The places I go with my arrows and bow
on glorious Autumn days.
Barking squirrels and cawing crows
pain staking miles that heal the soul
In the light of day I stalk my prey
anticipating any movement coming my way.
Deeper into the forrest I go
with only my primitive arrow and bow
There are shadows cast of light on light
which echo surreal color o're every tree
and ripples roll o're every stone
beneath the moss banked creek
A Cougars den of twisted stump
Show drag and bone of evidenced home
Ah the thrill to know I too am hunted;
Prey and predator never creep alone
A bow huntress
A life I seek to take
but I shall not attempt a shot
beyond my skill to make
I'll loose my arrow
swift and true
No creature to feel pain
of a miss undue
A clean quick kill or no kill at all
Such is my desire.
Practiced skill to make it so
for I own the wisdom to hold my fire
A practiced craft
A primitive fight
Arrows with broad heads
steady for flight
I know in my heart
I owe my quarry this
There's some things more costly
then merely a miss
I sit up in the trees, in blinds and in brush
waiting with patience
for that split second rush
Following trails left behind
of those elusive beats in this garden I find
to be one with peace, and peace of mind
wind whispering their scent and that of mine
Silently I pass
to raise no alarm
branches gently touch
then slide from my arm
Eyes to the path
of the trails I follow
To the antlers elusive
hidden in the hollows
The only noise
the beating of my heart
I was born for this
I knew from the start
As I raise my bow
and fall to one knee
as if in eerie slow motion
Draw -
then loose my arrow
with awe
and simple devotion
THWAK - KATHUNK
A creature is dead
Now comes the true work
for the tales to be said
round the next gathering
and the breaking of bread
In nightshade she rages in fumes
And drives me to the edge of unrest
Inside coal eyes, my breath exhumed
Granting her to stew, I feel pressed.
Dark tresses of fire keeps burning
A passion that ignites a whirl...
This vixen’s scold reeks like a sting
But truth of her words were sincere.
Enticed, I drink the spiced potion
That bathes deep down inside of me;
Possessing a huntress’ grit, she drones
As my pride she melts, heavenly.
My woman is both river and sleet
Her quarter moon flushed with grace;
Eclipsing my will, my defeat
To accept a female's bold ways!
Dr. Ram Mehta's Husbands Are In Heaven.. Contest
by nette onclaud
There once was a Norse goddess named Skadi
A Winter Ruler in huntress’ body
An expert at skiing
Her enemies fleeing
Ester Ledecka she did embody
My wife, my huntress, rides the Holy Wind,
But still, daisies adorn her thick brown hair!
Her muslin robes blow out, her hair's unpinned,
Let dark thoughts try to chase her, if they dare!
For she outrides them all, strews flowers like hopes
And, with her hunting-dogs, argent, and gold,
She frees all prisoners, breaks all hangmen's ropes
A sure shot from her bow, and - young and old,
The wretched find their freedom come at last!
The hopeless rise and throw off fear's dull chains,
The blinded see the Now, Future, and Past
The horses lead their riders without reins!
Now, through the Night, she bolts like lightning's fire!
A fiery seraphim, who'll never tire!
(for: Deborah Guzzi)
The forest sings for her hunter
The twin of the fierce panther –
& I sing a sonorous song
That echoes beyond the sky
Of a thousand miles;
I sing like Dinta the hunter
Craving the hearts of clansmen
& the soul of my native drum
To greet a maiden of a lofty dance
This huntress beyond the Niger’s banks!
& fondly I bend to cast
I poise pleasantly like laying a wreath
To sing like Dinta the hunter
To cast my songs on these marbles
The marbles on her memory
’Tis a memory of a thousand miles
To greet a maiden of a lofty dance
This huntress beyond the Niger’s banks!
A perfect cast I crave
The melodious weaver’s band
Of songsters, of dancers, of praise-singers
I crave the ancient hearts of drummers
To dance the dance, my native dance
& drum the drum, my native drum
To greet a maiden of a lofty dance
This huntress beyond the Niger’s banks!
For she who drank of the dregs
Of yonder Niger’s banks
'Tis the rite, my write, our write
The fruit of my forest
The forest of my songs
The songs of my drum
The drum of my clan –
O, the forest sings for her hunter
A hunter still in poise for a huntress?
Diana goddess huntress
your glowing love abides.
You match my wish
and bring in the tides.
You reflect god light
in your nurturing essence.
Reminding me tonight
of my infinite wholeness.
Your hunt is for the god,
the god that eternally shines upon you
remembering your service
is what remains True.
You are the guide
and the direction
into our knowing of Source revelation.
As I turn within
as the huntress,
I recall,
the Sun is my eminent fortress.
Goddess Diana, a tribute to you.
Your reflection is your devotion
and tonight I emulate your love pure
and with virtue.
Huntress
by Michael R. Burch
after Baudelaire
Lynx-eyed, cat-like and cruel, you creep
across a crevice dropping deep
into a dark and doomed domain.
Your claws are sheathed. You smile, insane.
Rain falls upon your path, and pain
pours down. Your paws are pierced. You pause
and heed the oft-lamented laws
which bid you not begin again
till night returns. You wail like wind,
the sighing of a soul for sin,
and give up hunting for a heart.
Till sunset falls again, depart,
though hate and hunger urge you?"On!"
Heed, hearts, your hope?the break of dawn.
Invitation to the Voyage
by Charles Baudelaire
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
My child, my sister,
Consider the rapture
Of living together!
To love at our leisure
Till the end of all pleasure,
Then in climes so alike you, to die!
The misty sunlight
Of these hazy skies
Charms my spirit:
So mysterious
Your treacherous eyes,
Shining through tears.
There, order and restraint redress
Opulence, voluptuousness.
Gleaming furniture
Burnished by the years
Would decorate our bedroom
Where the rarest flowers
Mingle their fragrances
With vague scents of amber.
The sumptuous ceilings,
The limpid mirrors,
The Oriental ornaments …
Everything would speak
To our secretive souls
In their own indigenous language.
There, order and restraint redress
Opulence, voluptuousness.
See, rocking on these channels:
The sleepy vessels
Whose vagabond dream
Is to satisfy
Your merest desire.
They come from the ends of the world:
These radiant suns
Illuminating fields,
Canals, the entire city,
In hyacinth and gold.
The world falls asleep
In their warming light.
There, order and restraint redress
Opulence, voluptuousness.
Originally published by Sonnetto Poesia
NOTE: This poem is about the way primal lust for sex can turn human beings into animals who toy with their prey, like cats with mice. It is not about any person in particular.
Slip of Smoke (Huntress)
kiss me
you fool
before it's
too late...
walking away
i leave
for a
date,
looking back
sadly still
you will
stand...
shadow of
boy
in weak
minded man,
with a
slip of
smoke
and slide
of hand
off into
tomorrow
i step
beyond
feeble plans
7-21-07
fine, faintly flickering face,
a goddess' gilded grimace;
eyes sharp, slightly squinting,
lips pursed, concentrating;
arms strained, straight, steady,
inch by inch, pulling in the cord,
pushing away at the sturdy bow
that bends so slowly in, arched.
deft fingers firmly clasp,
but ever so lithely guide
the lethal arrow's feather
past her cheek near the ear;
pulls hard, stretches taut
and tense the bare bowstring,
impatiently anticipating,
savoring the inner, aching thrill;
waiting for just the right time,
but waiting forever, it seems;
the prized prey, still out there
feeding freely on freedom still;
her destiny, chiseled, shaped
by her sculptor's whiffling whim,
is to forever take a careful aim,
but never to make the final kill!