Shot rabbit

Shot rabbit

A Poem by Terpsichore

Limp she lies against the ploughed soil
A still life portrait in pain and pellet,
with flicked and dimpled fur,
spread and wind raped.


A dreamer's warmth leaks down,
incontinent. A dropping exudes
and steams gently,
her eyes dull, become distant.


Birth and burrow, flint and furrow
are impaled on the moment she ends;
becomes property as a hand reaches,
snatches, a boot scuffs on.


Grasses shadow box the wind,
as Rooks in black robed rank and file
call in vain longing from the high,
mourning trees.

 

 

© 2015 Terpsichore


My Review

Would you like to review this Poem?
Login | Register




Reviews

Another mastery in prose. I truly enjoy your tales. (no pun intended, haha)

Posted 7 Years Ago


Reminds me of going with my father when a child rabbit hunting or training his dogs. Thanks for the memory. Valentine

Posted 7 Years Ago


From title, to font choice, to metaphor, and word choice, this is an exemplary work. I love this poem. Not much of a review, but there is nothing to critique.

Posted 7 Years Ago


It takes skill to show life escaping and experience to show where it goes..exellent piece

Posted 8 Years Ago


Wonderful imagery for a grim sight... well done!!!

Posted 8 Years Ago


Grasses shadow box the wind,
as Rooks in black robed rank and file
call in vain longing from the high,
mourning trees.

This is extremely well written...beautiful and yes haunting imagery. I don't hunt, but I come from the country where there are lots of hunters. They eat the animals they hunt and feed there families. They have a tremendous amout of respect for animals, and conservation. Hunting is a nessesary thing. Have seen what happens when deer populations get out of cintrol, they die from disease and starvation, from traffic accidents. Nature has a balance. We are a part of that food chain. I respect those who choose not to eat animals, think it's a very noble thing and the motivations are kind and good ones. But if you eat meat at all, you really have no call to judge a hunter who is is hunting for food supply. There are bad hunters as there are bad types of all people. And I think shooting something just for sport and to watch it die is a sadistic cruel thing. But not all of them are like that.

Just a voice for some of the hard working people I know who used food like squirrel and rabbit, especially deer to feed there families. Life isn't the same and as easy for every one.

This piece is beautiful though. And I do think it should be felt by people who enjoy doing this because they are killing a living thing. We should respect all life.
Very nicely done to have inspired so much thought and Conversation. You are one of the finest poets who I've come across on this sight. I'd love for you to read something other than the one earlier, Their Season on Fire is one of my favorite pieces I've written lately. A new writer and trying to grow. Thanks.

Much love
Calamity of Jennifer

Posted 8 Years Ago


I agree with the good Beccy as to how fine the craftsmanship is here; when you write something on this nature, it is so very easy to get the tone wrong. I don't think I'm exaggerating if I say for every way you can get a poem like this right, there are another ten ways to do it wrong. This is clearly done right.

Posted 8 Years Ago


You clearly have a talent for descriptive detail, when a writer can transport their readers into their story you have accomplished what all writers aspire for but seldom succeed at. Standing Ovation! Clap! Clap! Clap!

Posted 8 Years Ago


Dislike intensely, those who hunt God's creatures. Be different I imagine if the rabbit had a gun and could shoot back.

Incredibly well crafted, especially the last stanza, which in my view is a poetical master class.


Beccy.

Posted 8 Years Ago


rabbits are so cute and cuddly---and it is so sad to see dead carcass in a field or on the road---the glassy, dead eyes, the once scurrying life shot down or run over---suddenly ended.

you really capture that haunting feeling we get when seeing something once so alive, cold, limp, gone.

like passing a once inhabited, busy building and imagining it as it once was...with all the activity it once held.

beautifully done...

Posted 8 Years Ago



First Page first
Previous Page prev
1
Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


Stats

582 Views
11 Reviews
Rating
Added on October 20, 2015
Last Updated on October 20, 2015

Author

Terpsichore
Terpsichore

London, United Kingdom



About
Nothing much to tell really. I work in the city, boring, but lucrative enough to enable me to spend most weekends away from the place. I enjoy writing, reading equally as much. Like retro style cloth.. more..

Writing

Related Writing

People who liked this story also liked..


Until... Until...

A Poem by MsJewel