A Hunting For Tiger
They sought it thimbleful and with care
When persueing the tiger befoul'd hope;
And being threaten'd it hid and left share
Though they charmed it with a bowl of soap.
The butcher contrived an ingenious plan-
They seperated themselves from sally;
And fixed on a spot, unfrequented by man
'Twas a dismal and desolate valley.
They, their disgusting beaver put off, of the body
Suddenly a scream, shrill, shudders the sky;
The butcher feeling queer asked the why
And stood run out running betwixt muddy.
They seek it's reason with scrupulous mind
Through bushes, through brier in declining evening.
Inevitably, they engage to heed on possible being;
As they carried lantern instead of sunlight, unkind.
The valley turned narrow and narrower ahead, still
And the evening seemed to be heavy and grew colder.
So, nervousness in them struck their good-will;
Yet, they marched along shoulder to shoulder.
'Hark! hark to the howling', once the butcher cried
'Be ready to strike it, my friends! ', he extolled
And hoped-a sudden twist might bring a pride.
Imaginably the beast coming near stood bold.
They uplift lances, sharp and deadly, into sky
Indicating-the bravery never yields to fear.
'Attack! '-the butcher cried, 'my friends, my dear'.
'Don't retreat, be forward to it; O let it die! '.
They were excited, ready to hit within spell;
A tremendous plan made to make it sorround-
Likely fitted the dream, cherished day round
Then violently they blew their shrouded bell.
Hence, the tiger saw his death stand before him-
Jumping into the hollow it fled along glade
To escape the death entered into forest dim
It seemed it might be vain the plan they made.
But they rushed behind the beast to capture
With patience, in growing gloom of the night.
'O cut it's body into sections', cried the butcher
'O throw lances on it, anymore let it not fight! '.
A sudden twist-suddenly it being faltered by
The fetter of root, fell into a deep hole nigh.
Seeing it captive into, their happiness grew high
The dream came true in eyes of men of black dye.
Afterward, they lifted it up with firm chin;
Overlooking thoroughly they pierced it severally-
'O poor! go into the Hell', hence they rally
The tiger looked to be groaning in pain.
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Comments about this poem (A Hunting For Tiger by Pijush Biswas )
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
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