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Gert Strydom Pretoria / South Africa, Male, 50
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  • Gert Strydom (9/25/2009 12:33:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    Please give your opinions about this poem.

    Gert Strydom.


    Gentling a Wildcat

    The yellowish-red colour
    of the caracal
    blended like natural camouflage
    into the yellow-brown winter grass
    and when it moved its head
    the pointed ears with tuffs
    of black hair caught my eye.

    Eighteen kilograms of hate
    for man and pent up rage
    hissed and growled at me
    and white teeth
    was biting death
    out of the air.

    Far too weak from
    a hunter’s miscalculated shot
    to move and caked
    by blood oozing
    from its lungs
    a paw clawed the air
    ready to strike at me.

    No birds and small mammals
    or any lesser antelope
    was to fall
    under its claws and teeth again
    and as life fade away
    with the setting sun,
    I saw hate glaring
    out of yellow-gold eyes.

    a Faculty of mine
    that I do not really understand,
    let me stretch out my hand
    to stroke the soft yellowish-red head
    between the pointed ears
    and something changed
    inside that deadly cat
    and for the last moment
    it was at peace
    and to this day
    I can swear
    that it sounded
    like a kitten being stroked
    as life ebbed away.

    Today I find myself
    in a similar situation
    with a woman
    who displays great hate
    that phantoms unpredictable
    and I cannot understand
    and maybe brotherly love
    and selfless deeds
    and gentleness
    in the face of rage,
    will slowly let
    the insanity of mindless rage
    ebb away.

    [Reference: “Gentling a Wildcat” by Douglas Livingstone.]

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