This is a poem, a little long I expect, but I'm very proud of it. Those who came to read it, I'm honored. Comments are appreaciated. Flames will be aprehended. What's the use? I don't read your flames anyway. Well, for those of you who came to read and expect to like it, go ahead, I hope you are not disappointed.





The Panther By: Princess Ashley

Red eyes glared through the lush green bushes

Nighttime fell on the newly paved sidewalks

They smelled strongly of asphalt

The midnight predator left the shelter of the tree

Loose on hunts, wild and treacherours

Cold damp pavement not treated as a home

Rejecting the solid, pinnacled concrete

Searching for the place, the origin of its dorm

A winding path of rumple and crest

Among the tigress, the cougar, the jaguar

Its hopes seized and seemed to aspire

No anticipation for his home long ago, not easily rectified

The emptiness, a longing for one of its own

Alone among others, each different

The panther is the only one if its kind

A thousand miles it willed to travel

Along the rickety, wasted land

Home was not welcome

The caged panther roams, in fits of rage

The laughs and taunts through bitter steel bars

A big, bleak box, silver brace and no shelter from overhead

Rain, sleet, hail, and thunder, intensified his spirits and raises his temper

No space, no room, a cramped place

Among the other felines, though none the same

People once walked by, to point and stare

Poked by little fingers adn any other time

Tempted to bite them off and swallow without heed

Whatever they would press upon him would have been better than this prison

Nover had he gone against the rules, there had been none

The harsh punishment for wandering

The gullible cub, lured with the smell of prey

Sooner was it a deer leg, or pair of bunny ears

Into a plank, more solid than rock

Then the clank of steel, he felt at the tip of his tail

Clear laughter and hoots that came from men

Where is the silver, running down its fur?

Going forth to forsess what could become

If not for it, for whom?

A selfish action, if for only himself?

The longer he waits

Despising ever minute of life he found himself lured into

No knowledge of consequences

That would shortly follow

The free panther strides, powerful and triumphant

Living for the day, worries far away

Every minute spent in wonder

Where is my life going to go from here?

How he wished he could be in the paradise he so long ago lost

The glory of its world, not yet forgotten

The towering tree tops, and sense of power

Control over others, like man were thought to have over him

Forcing him to thrash and yet he wanted to

He refused to listen to them, to let them dominate

A Showtime gig, a few minutes of fame

Then back to his cage, to feel the hack and sting of the whip

Presistently moving from decrepit lands, to flat

Even now the feel of the grass

Long stalks that he once used to singe behind

Before exposing himself to the prey

Those times lay vivid in a world of tragic incident

Not raised into the world that it knows now

But in a world of freedom

Where boundaries were nonexistant

Roaming freely, eating when he wanted

Pleasureing hunting for his food

And stop the bunnies from getting cocky

Prancing about, and posing their tongues

Where the meadows go for miles

Not a stitch of man in sight

The panther endures the company of the warm summer night

No bars to bear, no whips to restrain

The home he longs for, but will never see it the same

The innocents he saw before, not one care on his mind

But now see it as an exposure and a thought of being caught again

Once again the feline will ask

Who thy mortal hand nor eye

Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

One more life time, lying there

Wishing it would end, to slowly disappear...

***** It was a little poem I made when I was in writers camp over the summer. My teacher helped me with it. I hope you did to. Seeya!

~mo