Under stones he waits,
The proprietor of natural causes.
Sleep comes to him mostly in fits.
Consistency is the hunter's tool:
never changing,
never swaying,
always staying...
alert.
The wind blows,
carrying the scent of his appetite.
The sun shines florescent,
deepening the shadow of his ambush.
Focus is the hunter's tool:
Never changing,
never swaying,
always staying...
Poised.
Author notes
For some reason when i looked at the picture, i imagined a snake hiding under those stones, awaiting his prey.
A contest entry
- Pic !! tell me what you see. by Philleebee8.
300 points, ended September 17, 2008, 12 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
=]
It made me laught, i like it. -
-
lol i didnt know it was funny. hope thats a good thing.
-
-
lol, it's just i didnt think about a snake hideing till now.
-
-
Adding your comment:
