Monday morning, after a weekend of carnage, the retired men with white vans, too much time on their hands and too little imagination and sensitivity are still blazing away at inoffensive creatures that are infinitely more useful and beautiful than they are.
For the OctPoWriMo prompt.
knots tighten
taut
twanging like bowstring
the report of a gun
not placid
as the eyes embedded in wood
fiercely blind
clench-fisted against the ungraspable.
Knots bind
hands flail
unbound but helpless
in the face of flying bullets
and the brutish blackness
beneath the skull
of the hidden hunter.
Seems it was a horrible weekend, Jane!I am sorry for you, and the poor animals. Wish you a nice week, with better experiences. Michael
It’s every day. Those awful old men who haven’t got anything better to do with their time or their money.
We should give them laser guns, and put them into a closed nursery. I remember the advertising for the “Le Tartare” cheese. Seems the old French men are not as peaceful as shown there. Lol
It’s only a minority, a very small one, but they zip around in their little vans with their dogs in the back, and it feels as though there’s a whole army of them.
Sounds as if they are fleeing the old age.
I wish they’d flee it over a cliff.
Lol
I always like the rationale for hunting. They want to protect the nature.
I wonder how many of them actually believe it?
I fear to much of our citizens. All is business today,
No heart, no compassion.
I can’t imagine listening to that mess. It would unnerve me something fierce. Isn’t there enough meat in the store? Wonderful poem. I could feel the frustration!
Thank you! That is exactly my feeling. These people aren’t even killing anything edible most of the time. They kill anything, foxes, weasels, martens, badgers, songbirds. And yes, there is far too much meat in the store, too much inhumanely raised and butchered meat, cut price, dead cheap. Life has such a low price tag—no excuse.
It just sums up the mindset of the world right now. (K)
It doesn’t give me many reasons to hope in something better. Too many look the other way.
This is so painful poem, Jane. No end to man’s greed.
I don’t think there is. They won’t be happy until they’ve killed everything. As it is they’re raising wild animals in cages to release and shoot because there aren’t enough wild bred animals to supply their bloodthirsty demand!
So painful 💜
Hate it. And them.
Yes
“brutish blackness” is a great descriptor for them
Possibly too kind.
Oh. . .it sounds so awful. It does sound like there is “brutish blackness” in the heads–all-encompassing.
It’s a tiny minority (0.07 of the population) who have a hunting permit, but they infest the countryside like snipers in a war zone.
Ugh.
Yes, that too.