2011 - The Hunter

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A hunter and his methods of work.

Submitted: April 21, 2011

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Submitted: April 21, 2011

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A golden leaf fluttering to the ground;
In the middle of autumn it was cold.
Night was falling against the golden Sun
Falling behind the great mountains
Encompassing the valley.
All things seemed unnaturally perfect
In the light of the fading Sun.

A bloodhound scuffled the leaves;
His owner followed slowly behind.
The dog stopped in his tracks,
Giving a howl of triumph
As he found what he was looking for -
And some man jumped out of the leaves.
His clothes were ragged,
His face covered in stubble and dirt,
Not being washed for days.

The man glanced and froze;
Not a muscle in his body twitched.
The owner of the dog knew this man;
He had heard the rumours.
This men who had been looking for him;
Dressed in black from head to toe;
Around his waist - his weapons for killing.

He always found him, for a long time;
Being tricky to track, not for so long.
Running his fingers over his weapons
Grinning maliciously...

Before he knew it he was stabbed
In his leg muscles.
Stroding off into the darkness,
His dog padding softly behind,
Without barking at all.

The Sun’s last rays shone over the mountains,
Giving us a last glimpse of the golden leaves
Now turned red with blood.


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