The Jungle Poem by Barry Middleton

a tiger roams beneath the trees
as stealthy as the night
the serpent lies beneath a rock
where death awaits its bite

the only sound is bleak despair
descending on the breeze
and darkness closes in like fear
that prayer cannot appease

the echoes of the drums of war
are filtered by the shade
mysterious and cryptic gods
must surely be dismayed

their idols all are overgrown
consumed by brush and briar
all light subdued in fog and mist
where hidden beasts conspire