Changed Hunter
a sonnet of how a beauty can change oneself
In the forest, I lie in wait. A rush
of power new running like the river,
ever forward. The life giver of lush
verdant warmth. I await with full quiver.
Arrow notched, I set my eye there upon.
The swift doe, calm in quiet meadow;
gently she drinks in the new golden dawn.
A tender sight to break the status quo.
But powerful in her fragility,
I halt, for I am no match for nature.
Even with a lifetime's ability
to equal compassion of this creature.
My stomach empty, but my spirit full
from the sweet doe who did my heartstrings pull.
About the Creator
Keep reading
More stories from Spencer Barrett and writers in Poets and other communities.
Getting Serious About Comedy (Part I)
If I were asked to remark on my life and the childhood that paved some road leading me to this point, I would have to say something about all the funny people who surrounded me for the last 26,872 days (and counting). Somewhere along that road, I became a big fan of laughter and the comedy that spawns it – and, I mean not only my own laughter, but the laughter of others, some of which I have actually been responsible for inducing.
By John Oliver Smith4 days ago in Humor
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.