Broken hearts

The suggestion for the OctPoWriMo prompt is a loop poem. This is a variant. I call it Serpent’s Tail.

563px-1912_Kirchner_Möwenjäger_im_Gehölz_anagoria.JPG

There is no compassion,

passion for death replaces it,

fit only for townfolk.

Poke fun at their sentimentality,

reality is power,

cowering wildlife at your whim,

slim chance of escape all they get.

Yet you call yourself a guardian, arbitrator;

terminator’s not how you see your task,

ask any huntsman anywhere.

 

 

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

14 thoughts on “Broken hearts”

  1. I just finished reading Tara Westover’s EDUCATION. Your poem makes me think of how some communities have entirely different beliefs and will never understand those who live outside their community. My grandfather taught me to shoot, but I will never own a gun. That image of wildlife cowering stays with me.

    1. So many things are passed down as ‘traditions’ that should be consigned to the rubbish bin in an enlightened society. Hunting is just one of them.
      One of the reasons I don’t have much time for communitarianism. It is narrow, exclusive and conservative, and refuses the values of a broader human society.

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