The merciless poacher
his larceny quells
Shooting wherever
the desperate dwell
Leaving to rot
what his vengeance can’t steal
Stalking and preying
the weakest revealed
Stirring up warnings
and ghosts from the past
Damning his nature
and future aghast
Hanging his conquests
on walls that defame
That last spot for him
— dark trophy of shame
(The New Room: December, 2025)
Exclusión Mutua
There are only two kinds
of people
the Chilean poet said ...
the innocent
— and the living
(Dreamsleep: December, 2025)
-
Author:
Kurt Philip Behm (
Offline) - Published: December 2nd, 2025 10:39
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 5
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments3
Kurt, this hits with real weight…the predator becoming his own final trophy is such a powerful turn. You wrote consequence with sharp clarity. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Thanks, and your commentary nails it.
Kurt
You are most welcome, my friend. Great work.
The poacher could be any from government to banks to merchants to whom ever. A dark poem that does not bode well. Well written Kurt
Yes, until recently — unchecked.
Thanks Soren.
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