Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Born of a tiger

Little friend, you were born of a tiger
like the hills were born of mountains.

The tiger sleeps
in the curve of your claw,
in the twitch of your tail,
the slink of your spine;
she wakes
behind your eyes, huge
and green as the jungle,
when you stalk shadows
that remind you of things
you’ve never seen.

Little friend, you make me wonder
what I was born of.


This poem was written in response to NaPoWriMo #18: meow! on Read Write Poem.




Photo by Steven Bennett



        What characteristics of humanity do you think are leftovers from when we were "wild beasts"?

3 comments:

Dorkmaster Flek said...

If you want to see what we're born of, I think you only need to look at a bar or club downtown on a Friday night. Honestly, I think that primal urge to explore, conquer and propagate the species is right there. :)

Mary said...

Yeah... I'd say take a look at sex, fighting and eating. Our most primal of urges, all very animalistic. I can't deny that I feel like some sort of carnivore in the animal kingdom when I eat chicken wings... tearing the meat off the bone, with wing sauce all over my face. Haha.

Katie said...

I miss my cat.