A lion was heard to roar-
in his dreams.
That he much preferred to lay his head
on the thorny scrub of his life
than on a plushy carpet
lushed with floral dread.
Although a King, his golden skin
his mane, his might,
were chains that bound.
He became, he was, a predator’s delight.
No matter they were half his size
and much too wise to be fools,
they stomped and drooled
when they heard no roar
as they would a bug,
because they could,
The mighty rug on the floor.
A contest entry
- Through the Eyes of an Animal by kareneisenlord.
1750 points, ended November 5, 2008, 30 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
Excellent Poem
-
To see this regal beast that is the Lion being tortured and poached in such ways just to become apart of the furniture sickens me, you brought out the pride in this Lion despite is unfortunate fate.
Thankyou very much for sharing this with us, you've done well.
For the Animals.
Goodluck with the contest, -
Oh...the rug on the floor! That is good. I love how you imagined this piece. The attack of the lion and his death written in such a flourished way; the law of nature taking place...then the remnants, the rug, in place on the floor. Just love it...alby
-
What a tragic image!
To visualize that mighty King ending up as a mere rug on the floor for people to walk on. That is sad. I loved this image of the hunters being almost prehistoric; "they stomped and drooled
when they heard no roar."
When I was a kid my parents had a bear rug (common from the 40's/50's). It was dyed red, kind-of beatnikish. People didn't think much about the plight of animals back then. It was all a very exploitive thing; the safaris and taking animals for trophies, etc.
I liked the naked imagery of your poem. Very contrasting; this mighty beast ending up like that.
. Thank you for your entry!
Adding your comment:
