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Sas Debray

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

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