Saint of Sinners
August 30th, 2013, 02:24 PM
This poem is written based on an article in a magazine I read (asian geographic?). It's about how illegal poaching and stealing of cubs for tiger farms are dooming the tigers.
The Ballad Of The Last Tiger
Padded feet on the forest floor;
Gliding through the trees.
As stealthy as one can be,
As silent as the breeze.
Sustenance was very scarce;
The deer were no more.
There were no more rhinos;
Not a single wild boar.
Our mother had to venture far;
Just to find something to eat.
An old cow would have to do;
What precious little meat.
With a bestial roar she put her down;
With a single leap.
Jaws clamped down on her throat.
Her fangs pierced in deep.
Behold the majestic tiger.
Brave for all to see.
Nature’s perfect hunter.
Beautiful and free.
She left the body on the ground;
To come back home for us.
To her it’s very important;
Us eating first is a must.
The corpse lay there on the ground;
Untouched by man or beast.
Our mother went ahead first;
We got ready for a feast.
Flash of fire, puff of smoke;
A loud bang ensured.
The cow, in fact, was left as bait.
Our poor mother was lured.
One dead mother lying on the ground;
We watched on with fear.
As men came out from the surrounding bush,
And prodded our mother dear.
Behold the majestic tiger.
On the ground it lies.
Nature’s perfect hunter.
Fire gone from its eyes.
The men found us soon enough;
And picked us up away
In a cramped cage we went;
Our new home to stay.
We were left in the darkness
Shattered and in tears
Is this how we are to spend;
The rest of our years?
Why do they want to kill us all?
Is it for our bones?
Or do they kill us just for kicks;
To hear our final moans?
They keep us here in filthy cells
In here we are penned.
Starved, beaten, whipped, kicked;
And butchered at the end.
Behold the majestic tiger.
Pitiful and forlorn.
Nature’s perfect hunter.
Its demise we shall mourn.
-Wolfred.
The Ballad Of The Last Tiger
Padded feet on the forest floor;
Gliding through the trees.
As stealthy as one can be,
As silent as the breeze.
Sustenance was very scarce;
The deer were no more.
There were no more rhinos;
Not a single wild boar.
Our mother had to venture far;
Just to find something to eat.
An old cow would have to do;
What precious little meat.
With a bestial roar she put her down;
With a single leap.
Jaws clamped down on her throat.
Her fangs pierced in deep.
Behold the majestic tiger.
Brave for all to see.
Nature’s perfect hunter.
Beautiful and free.
She left the body on the ground;
To come back home for us.
To her it’s very important;
Us eating first is a must.
The corpse lay there on the ground;
Untouched by man or beast.
Our mother went ahead first;
We got ready for a feast.
Flash of fire, puff of smoke;
A loud bang ensured.
The cow, in fact, was left as bait.
Our poor mother was lured.
One dead mother lying on the ground;
We watched on with fear.
As men came out from the surrounding bush,
And prodded our mother dear.
Behold the majestic tiger.
On the ground it lies.
Nature’s perfect hunter.
Fire gone from its eyes.
The men found us soon enough;
And picked us up away
In a cramped cage we went;
Our new home to stay.
We were left in the darkness
Shattered and in tears
Is this how we are to spend;
The rest of our years?
Why do they want to kill us all?
Is it for our bones?
Or do they kill us just for kicks;
To hear our final moans?
They keep us here in filthy cells
In here we are penned.
Starved, beaten, whipped, kicked;
And butchered at the end.
Behold the majestic tiger.
Pitiful and forlorn.
Nature’s perfect hunter.
Its demise we shall mourn.
-Wolfred.