The bird of prey soars,
sooner or later he scores.
The eagle flies up high
while the prey refuses to die.
The vulture glides on the wind
circling to confirm his dividend.

The prey still clinging to life
struggling to survive in this
world of misery and strife.
One eye gone
down and all alone.
Awaits his fate
knowing it's his final date.

The poet circles his word
preying upon things he's
seen, experienced and heard.
His eye clings to his paper
he's on another caper.
His eye's bulge to each line of verse,
knowing he has the poetic curse.

From his eyes of watch
recorded in his heart
moving his soul to release
the prey gives in.
Birthed from the preditor
the prey could no longer hold.
A new birth blooms
to other eyes of watch.
The new arrival is helpless
knowing it has no chance.

It will be read
or maybe it will lay dead
because the preditor
has fed.

O