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Hunt
23 September, 2002
Author: Kyle Foley

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With crimson eyes laced with gold, he stares upon the azure land.
His orbs strong, and bold,
his clawed digits grasp the mountain grand.
He crawls upon the itchy bark,
unaware of the hungry eyes.
Further away, the song of a lark,
sounds off the chase of the silent lies.
Gusts flow over him as he leaves his perch,
he screeches in the eve as he nears.
Crimson eyes scan the wimsy leaves of birch,
his feast of the night is gone, he fears.
He lacks speed but uses wits,
swerving to and fro in delicate weaves.
Falling from the limb into the hungry pits,
the hawk now satisfied, full, he leaves.

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Comments on this poem/writing:

Tiffany (68.10.181.250) -- Saturday, October 26 2002, 04:16 am

intense

Very intense! i love it
Stacey (68.82.127.64) -- Saturday, October 26 2002, 07:01 am

To Kyle

This poem friggin rocks!! Looking forward to reading more. :)
~Stacey
My name is Kyle Foley 2 kinda wierrd ehh? (68.44.165.210) -- Monday, October 27 2003, 11:44 pm

Very cool

I think this poem kicks ass
 
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