on the prowl



Black eyes of an ocelot raging fire
A glowing aura of burning desire
Retracting tentacles razor sharp
Lacerating sounds of broken harps
Lashing out with jagged tears
Bleeding lovers caught in snares
Nocturnal creeping with a dancing prowl
Predators inscribing domain with a scowl  
Expletive groans the pouncing flight
Frolicking cavort of the felines delight
The fringy quill of black hair on end
Longing of the appetite does transcend
Lustful cravings and quenching thirsts
Satisfying passions slowly dispersed 
The pulse of movement in metered time
Cunning wildcat so beautifully sublime
Departing his territory smugly appeased
Smiling with libido his rapture is seized
A cock crow the breaking of dawn
His spirit and vigor begin to yawn
He retreats content to his ivory tower
For soon again will come the hour
To bask in the glory of the nights unlit midst
His quenching weakness nevermore to resist

About kwicksand

Sinking in the quicksand of my thoughts. ~David Bowie
This entry was posted in Poems, Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

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