Running frenzied through the forest
Screams and bugle calls and howls
Panic grips my fragile body
Causing twisting in my bowels.
Bracken tearing at my flesh -
Blood clings sticky to my side -
Hounds and horses: blood-red coats
Rushing at me like the tide.
Vulgar calling getting louder -
They've well and truly got my scent.
Thundering hooves are all around me -
Hooves with murderous intent.
Sheer exhaustion overwhelmes me
Now I know I must be caught.
Disaster - my poor limbs now buckle!
I must die for human sport.
Succumb to pain as jaws devour me -
I cannot blame the starving hounds,
For they're dumb creatures just as I,
Incensed by madman's bugle sound.
©2005 Jon Lloyd
(This poem was penned prior to the recent changes in UK legislation)
Jon, I think you're captured well well here both the atmosphere of the actual moment and the sentiment surrounding it. Agit Prop poetry! Regards from a too occasional sab.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Good protest piece. And thanks for your comment on my poem. Regards.