My Roar Is Fading Poem by Randy McClave

To the west or to the east,
I was king of the beast.

In the jungle I was once respected and feared,
Whenever or wherever I appeared.

I stood majestically proud,
To me all creatures humbled themselves and bowed.

No one ever dared to touch my crown,
Now hunters and poachers want to take me down.

Once when I had roared,
I could easily frighten any hoard.

Then when I stood solemn and ferociously I growled,
My subjects they ran and howled.

Kings like myself are now being killed,
While hunters are excited, elated and thrilled.

Through the blood of royalty I am now wading;
My roar is fading.

Randy L. McClave