"Hunting"
The darkness consums all but the flashlight.
The bordum of waing consums the mind.
The calls of turkeys that are off the roost.
The butt of the shotgun tight against my shoulder
The fear that you will miss and pride of hitting it
The kick of the shotgun just kidding I didn't shoot becoue it saw me.
But will kill that sneaky little turky
and name it TOM
👁 1💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.