A Poem by Black_Oxygen


 Walking on tip-toes and speaking in whispers

 The prey that I’m hunting can be very illusive

 It does not own tusks, or claws, or whiskers

 I’ll only succeed when rights are exclusive


Each piece of artillery is full of ammunition

 Life’s on pause until I complete this chapter

Just bait and nets are used on the expedition

The goal is not to hurt, but to lure and capture


 All systems are cushioned and dipped in love

Every net is an orchestra of loyalty and trust

Ready to surround and warm like fur gloves

Acquisition has become a duty and a must


  I’m hunting for your heart, with eyes opened wide and starry

To possess your prize; I think, dream, and work for the safari


  If I appear to be preoccupied and unashamed, I’m truly sorry

To possess your prize; I dine, drink, and breathe for the safari


I sport an assortment of traps in my pack

They’re all gentle, but they do hold on tight

 This mission only operates on a single track

  My pursuit and apprehension of you on sight


 I’m prepared and wish to endure all strife

 The possession of your passion is all I see

 The object of your affection is my dream life

 When you need to be loved, you summon me

Ron Harrell

© 2008 Black_Oxygen

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Added on June 23, 2008
Last Updated on June 23, 2008

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