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The Huntress
by Uriel Tovarher war paint's
pattern swirls about
her face
as she creeps, blind and mute
to the thunder of drums and feet pounding
the floor.
dragged behind, her
hair
races to catch up
as she twirls into the air
with her club.
SaMaShhhhhhhhhh
her prey falls victim
its innards spilling over
as her tribe races to the floor
grabbing, picking
at the juicy goodness of the kill.
07/18/2005 Author's Note: pinata
Posted on 07/19/2005
Copyright © 2025 Uriel Tovar
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Paul Marino on 07/20/05 at 05:55 AM thought it was good. the words were chosen well and the breaks were strong. the, "--", at the end threw me off a bit, but nice. goodnight arianna. |
| Posted by Rula Shin on 07/20/05 at 05:06 PM How wonderful! What a lovely surprise at the end, and yes here this little princess is now the huntress, I can just imagine her little face covered in war paint and her excitement at the possibility of a 'kill' hahaha. I find these poems of yours so full of heart, created from some very beautiful quality impressions and energies radiating from this charming child. I sense happiness and joy in these poems of yours Uriel, and the beautiful connection you have with your neice, it seems to be reciprocal, what you give to a heart is what the heart returns to yours. "The Huntress" is such an excellent title as well. Well done dear. |
| Posted by Meghan Helmich on 07/10/08 at 01:36 PM pinata. i love it! i had a moment like that, too. i think i was five.. |
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