He planted a peck on her forehead,
She woke startled then enraged.
He pulled out all the stops to coax her
Cajole her to copulate. Nothing worked
And his battery ran flat. He tapped soft notes
But not the right key and it hardened her resolve.
If they were two praying mantes, he knew
He'll be lunch and that was not going down.
He had to move fast to be first and get
It on for when a row folds, brutality ensued.
Her face was a tiger's head and a growl
Signalled attack… Shame. He could have braced
And based this bird if she had remained
The chick she sometimes pretended to be.
Now, he was tussling with an Albatross
Stripped of royalty, robust and strong,
Its beak battering his head like a mace.
A bird that briefly became a sparrow
Slipping away towards the thickets
Scooting past his chin like a left hook
That he caught by chance in a snare
And realized he was gripping the wild
Cat by the scruff of neck as her paw
Struck him with the force of a Megalodon
And he dropped like a dead fish on the floor.
Man, there’s a lot to dissect there. Soo, did he get it or not? I can’t tell?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
He was floored and out for the count. A dead nail is as useful as on a bull.