THE PRIZE

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Comes the savage

Submitted: November 08, 2006

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Submitted: November 08, 2006

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Face streaked red,

under feathered hair.

Naked body wearing,

claws of the bear.

 

Hidden in big trees,

lost in shadow.

Black eyes watching,

the stream below.

 

Silently waiting,

muscles pulled tight.

A figure moves,

in dappled light.

Softly singing,

flowers in her hair.

A dreaming girl,

without a care.

 

Too late to run,

the arrow is true.

Crimson flows dark,

over Calico blue.

 

The prize taken,

hand held high.

Golden hair dripping,

against the sky.

 

His triumph won,

with a savage cry,

overhead, Vultures fly.

 

 


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