Hunter or the hunted! ! ! ! !
If you be a hunter,
Besides being good marksman,
One needs sportsmanship.
What makes one a hunter;
Fun of the game or sadistic pleasure,
At times I wonder…
Hunted or the hunter
In the playfield, there is a slim chance,
The pursuer end as prey.
So what,
If its a poem or a poet;
Its all in the game,
an occupational hazard...
poem by Mamta Agarwal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Pray For The Hunted
No light inside as empty room
Under pressure I cant win
The screams - the pain - its all inside
All this talking all the time
When there is something left
Talk to me face to face
Expected so much more
Im sick and tired of it all
Why dont you pray for the hunted
I scream for help to free my heart
You better pray for the hunter
I wonder why you take me apart
The light has diedd and whos to blame
Youre the one who messed around
You shook - you took - you played your games
The time has come youre going down
When there is something left
Talk to me face to face
Expected so much more
Im sick and tired of it all
Why dont you pray for the hunted
I scream for help to free my heart
You better pray for the hunter
I wonder why you take me apart
You take me apart
Why dont you pray for the hunted
You better pray for the hunter
Why dont you pray for the hunted
You better pray for the hunter
Why dont you pray for the hunted
I scream for help to free my heart
You better pray for the hunter
I wonder why you take me apart
Why dont you pray for the hunted
You score no more youve lost this game
You better pray for the hunter
Why do you always have to take me apart
song performed by by U. D. O.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lonely Is The Hunter
There is a thing out there that lives in the dark
Lamented into dust is the crow
A star shining in the sky
In the darkened night
A filling taste it is
Lonely is the hunter in the days
Of them we are
Of they there are none
Two times the rooster crows
In the days of the lonely hunter
Hope dead and cold
Lonely is the hunter
None nearby lonely is the hunter
Tombs filling the heart
Lonely is the hunter
The hunter is he
poem by Alex Fischer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I A Hunter.
I a hunter of life,
I got shot by a hunter with my knife,
I a hunter of death,
A shot just broke my teeth
I a hunter of destiny,
Am afraid mine is taken,
I hunter of happiness,
am afraid mine is darkness
I a hunter of purity,
Putifying isn't my duty,
I a hunter of greatness,
I've just found am the smallest
I hunter of Love,
But am a sparrow not a dove,
and now I've got a message,
A message I, ve meant to receive
Hallow love Thank you,
my mind is holified that is you,
you have made my mind over due,
you made me think about you
SO THANK YOU
poem by Dickson Mseti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Coventry in November
They say it was a Hunter’s moon
The night the City died
They say it was a hunter’s moon
The day the people cried
They say it was a hunter’s moon
That took our house away
They say it was a hunter’s moon
When the devil came to stay
An ageing now I’d like to know
Won’t someone tell me soon,
Why the reaper came to mow
in the light of the hunter’s moon
poem by Adrian Wait
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lonely Is The Hunter
My eggs in one basket, but she threw me a bone
She was dealt a full deck, but she likes to live alone
Aint just talkin to myself, need a reason to stop (oh yeah)
With a flower in her teeth, she drained the last drop
I said girls love money like bees the honey
But lonely is the hunter, youre my one and only, and lonely is the hunter
Asked her for a refill, sweat flew off my face (oh yeah)
Shes a legendary figure, kept me in a cage
Shes a torture chamber, when I seduced her in my bed (ooh yeah)
She gave a cold reading, success went to her head
In the heat of the battle the heart cannot rule, Im such a fool
But lonely is the hunter, youre my one and only, and lonely is the hunter
Lonely is the hunter, youre my one and only, and lonely is the hunter
Lonely is the hunter, youre my one and only, and lonely is the hunter
Lonely is the hunter, youre my one and only, and lonely is the hunter
song performed by by Kiss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Hunter
It dont come easy, thats understood
Faint-hearted loser, thats no good
Just take a lesson from the great mohammed
He said... he said...
Pick up a rifle, you must be strong
To take a title, can be so long
If you believe, you cant go wrong
I said... I said...
Hes a fighter, hes my friend,
Always winning in the end,
Hes no angel, hes no fool,
Never plays it by the rule,
Take the glory, steal the prize,
Only the hunter, only the hunter
You took your chances, you hurt your pride
A sense of failure, is hard to hide
You crossed the limit, you broke the code
Back on the road... remember?
Hes a rival, hes my friend,
Always winning in the end,
Hes a tiger, hes a swan,
Hes the one Im counting on,
To take the glory, steal the prize,
Only the hunter, only the hunter survives
Im on the outside, Im looking in
Through the lenses, then into film
Ive got the target set in my sights
I see a vision of truth... look out!
Were gonna fight until we drop,
Were gonna get back to the top,
Were gonna be the first in line,
Winners till the end of time
Only the hunter, only the hunter,
Only the hunter, only the hunter,
Survives
song performed by by Asia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The hunt for love
By my nature
i am not a hunter.
hunting implies
that killing takes place.
the last thing
i want to do
is to kill something.
is hunting wrong?
not necessarily,
but i think hunting is wrong
for me.
besides, as far as i am concerned
motive makes all the difference.
for example,
i was a hunter once
and didn't even know it.
a certain innocence had taken me
into the snowy woods
one snowy evening.
i was hunting
for someone to love.
little did i know my nonchalance
would lead me to another hunter.
this hunter
was moving cautiously
through the same poetic snowy woods
binding snowflakes into winter dreams.
this hunter was careful
to avoid familiar mantraps
while also hunting for someone to love.
poem by Richard Ilnicki
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lovehunter
(coverdale/moody/marsden)
I need a woman to treat me good
And give me everything a good woman should
Everyday and every night
Shed be waiting on her brown-eyed boy
To come and treat her right
Im a love hunter baby
Sneaking up on you,
Im a love hunter baby
Sneaking up on you
Im gonna give you all my loving
And use my tail on you
In my time Ive been a back door man,
Ive taken everything I could
But, Ive given all I can
I dont want no woman
To weep or moan,
Im looking for a sweet heartbreaker
And Im never gonna leave her alone
Im a love hunter baby
Sneaking up on you,
Im a love hunter baby
What you gonna do?
Im gonna give you all my loving
And use my tail on you
Im a love hunter baby
Sneaking up on you,
Im a love hunter baby
What you gonna do?
Im gonna give you all my loving
And use my tail on you
cos Im a love hunter baby,
Im a love hunter baby...
Im a love hunter baby
Sneaking up on you
Im sneaking up on you!
song performed by by Whitesnake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Hunter's Mind
Awake, awake!
Awake to the morning bowl from last night's food;
Like the fling of a stone that puts the stars into flight.
What has the hunter in the hand?
Awake to the games of the Sultans,
Where the morning glory do call for the hunter;
Awake, awake!
Awake to the facts of life;
Cos', the hunter's gun is ready for action.
Oh no! ! The hunter's eye has caught the Sultans turret,
Like the noose of light to awake nature's call;
Who can satisfy the Sultans?
Like a little pool, so is the hunter's mind;
The hunter's gun is ready for action.
The only man who makes no mistake is,
The man who never does anything;
Awake, awake!
The Sultans turret is in trouble;
Like the noose of light to awake nature's call.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Captured By The Game
Doesn't it seem as though,
As quickly as love is given and admitted...
A testing of how deep it is begins.
To question if the hunter who hunted,
Had actually been captured by the game.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hare wooing rabbit
‘It is there! Very much there!
Go and catch the mare
before she comes to glare’.
[ a hare was told]
‘How can you dare
come and at me stare?
You can’t get me bare’.
[a rabbit retirted]
‘No hunter can hear
the consent of a hare
before he goes to snare’.
‘No hunter is held dear,
I am a hare neither.
I shall drive you thither’.
‘If I were not a hunter,
will come some hunter,
who will, you the whole, plunder’.
‘I shall put across a barrier,
will soon seek some warrior
in whose arm to slither.’
‘Then why not am I that lad?
I shall make you glad
and serve you salad.’
No, you are a nerd;
your motive is absurd.
I can’t be assured.’
The she-rabbit fled the he-hare.
25.12.2000, Pm
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Hunter Gets Captured By The Game
Every day brings change,
And the world puts on a new face,
Certain things rearange,
And the world seems like a new place.
Secretly Ive been trailing you,
Like a fox that preys on a rabbit,
I had to get you, and so I knew,
I had to learn all your ways and all your habbits.
Youre the catch that I was after,
I looked up and I was in yout arms,
And I know I was captured.
Whats this whole world coming to,
Things just aint the same,
Anytime the hunter gets captured by the game.
I had laid such a tender trap,
Hoping you might fall into it,
But love hit me with a sudden slap,
Just one of your kisses and baby I knew it.
My plan didnt work out like I thought,
I had laid my trap for you,
But it seems, baby, I got caught.
Whats this whole world coming to,
Things just aint the same,
Anytime the hunter gets captured by the game.
Youre the catch that I was after,
I looked up and I was in yout arms,
And I know I was captured.
Whats this whole world coming to,
Things just aint the same,
Anytime the hunter gets captured by the game.
(? )
Youre the catch that I was after,
I looked up and I was in yout arms,
And I know I was captured.
Whats this whole world coming to,
Things just aint the same,
Anytime the hunter gets captured by the game.
song performed by by Grace Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Brief Short Story: Eve's Historical Mind
All what I inherited is to be a good hunter, eve learned to stay back with the elders and the children in the safe zone. I do not know much about her feelings while she is waiting. I am a hunter, I learned to control my feelings and sharp my mind while crossing the hunting zone.
I want eve to be a hunter too, and to experience the roughness of hunting, all the mystery of wilderness, and what is beyond the unknown.
poem by Atef Ayadi
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The Hunter's Moon
The Hunter's Moon rides high,
High o'er the close-cropped plain;
Across the desert sky
The herded clouds amain
Scamper tumultuously,
Chased by the hounding wind
That yelps behind.
The clamorous hunt is done,
Warm-housed the kennelled pack;
One huntsman rides alone
With dangling bridle slack;
He wakes a hollow tone,
Far echoing to his horn
In clefts forlorn.
The Hunter's Moon rides low,
Her course is nearly sped.
Where is the panting roe?
Where hath the wild deer fled?
Hunter and hunted now
Lie in oblivion deep:
Dead or asleep.
poem by Mathilde Blind
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It is the hunter who always beats the lions, because it is the hunter who always tells the stories.
All are hunters
Everyone is a hunter;
Everyone must hunt for food.
As a hunter, one’s no mercy.
Justice has no ultimate role.
09.03.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Hunter’s Song
RISE! Sleep no more! ’T is a noble morn:
The dews hang thick on the fringed thorn,
And the frost shrinks back, like a beaten hound,
Under the steaming, steaming ground.
Behold, where the billowy clouds flow by,
And leave us alone in the clear gray sky!
Our horses are ready and steady.—So, ho!
I ’m gone, like a dart from the Tartar’s bow.
Hark, hark!—Who calleth the maiden Morn
From her sleep in the woods and the stubble corn?
The horn,—the horn!
The merry, sweet ring of the hunter’s horn.
Now, thorough the copse, where the fox is found,
And over the stream, at a mighty bound,
And over the high lands, and over the low,
O’er furrows, o’er meadows, the hunters go!
Away!—as a hawk flies full at its prey,
So flieth the hunter, away,—away!
From the burst at the cover till set of sun,
When the red fox dies, and—the day is done!
Hark, hark!—What sound on the wind is borne?
’T is the conquering voice of the hunter’s horn.
The horn,—the horn!
The merry, bold voice of the hunter’s horn.
Sound! Sound the horn! To the hunter good
What ’s the gulley deep or the roaring flood?
Right over he bounds, as the wild stag bounds,
At the heels of his swift, sure, silent hounds.
O, what delight can a mortal lack,
When he once is firm on his horse’s back,
With his stirrups short, and his snaffle strong,
And the blast of the horn for his morning song?
Hark, hark!—Now, home! and dream till morn
Of the bold, sweet sound of the hunter’s horn!
The horn,—the horn!
O, the sound of all sounds is the hunter’s horn!
poem by Barry Cornwall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Butterfly Hunter
O hunter
butterfly collector
let us be
We got a life
we love to fly
and we got family
O don’t catch us
don’t bottle us
don’t gas us
let us be
we love to fly
and we love to bring joy
to poets in gardens;
we love to bring laughter
to children in the fields
O please, Collector
do not bring death to us
O hunter
butterfly collector
let us be
We got a life
we love to fly
and we got family
poem based on painting: Der Schmetterlingsjäger (The butterfly hunter) by Carl Spitzweg (1840) , a depiction from the era of butterfly collection
poem by Raj Arumugam
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Poet Hunter and Mathew
In the dense jungle the poet hunter went
With his photographer friend, Mathew
Carrying a shot-gun that Jim Corbet lent
And a camera that was practically new
Eagerly they waited for the jungle king
Composed, silent – after all tiger’s the name
They wished and prayed but not a thing
Came to start their hunting game
Rejected, frustrated the poet yawned
Along with his friend, Mathew
The hush was broken by a starling sound
And the poet his shot-gun drew
Upon them was the tigress glance
A few metres away from Mathew
The poet’s hands shook in trembling stance
And his heart beat missed a few
But his poetic mind as rescue came
And the jungle gleamed with greenery
Sexy the tiger-skin beauty became
In disguise was the haunting fairy
With camera resting on his nose
Taking shoots was friend, Mathew
Some were distant, some shots close
But they came out good, he knew
Tigress, bored by the foolish scene
Jumped on friend Mathew
And dipping her teeth in his skin
A good poetic lunch she chew
The poet hunter ran seeing the plight
And the tigress behind him flew
Behind was still enjoying the sight
And taking snaps blood stained Mathew
poem by Sas Debray
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hunter Fences
Fences may restrict you
And those the Hunter has so much
Like prey you feel caged, that is true
And you just cannot bloom as such.
The greens are open, so be free
The choices vast and exciting
Migrate to tales of ABC
There poetry does the undressing.
We find it Home to have some lines
Drawn to say 'where we cross the street'
All ages read between the lines,
And this the Hunter fairly meets.
Bloom and go where you want to
Never impose what you think
Rules are good and fences too,
These will not let our morals sink.
'Train up a child in the way he should go,
and when he is old, he will not depart from it.'
Proverbs 22: 6
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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