Deer Hunting

(This is a fictional poem)

When my friend and I went deer hunting, I accidentally shot a doe.
If you're wondering if I got away with it, the answer is no.
It was a bad day for me to lose my glasses.
The game warden saw us and he kicked our asses.
We got the crap beat out of us even though it was two against one.
After beating us to a bloody pulp, he put a second hole in our butts with my gun.
We had to sleep on our stomachs for weeks, it was terrible to go through.
We went through all of that misery and we didn't even get some damn venison stew.

by Randy Johnson

Comments (6)

That poem is lovely
We must adopt and feel the cruelty we must not use guns to kill the innocent
Bid them be patient, and some day, anon, They shall feel earth enwrapt in silence deep; ... Beautiful expression to expose the tragedy of human civilization. Skilled craft indeed.
The poet died around the time of WW One. I wonder if that was the war he was writing about or an earlier one? Well written. I enjoyed reading this one.
Great poem. Having met a soilder who had seen heavy battle in Iraque it accuratly expresses thoughts they may have
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