His roar of pain could still be heard across the jungle plains
Pursued by the ignoble poachers his strength is waning
They’d taken his mother, her life for their illicit gains
Tilting his magnificent head he listens, they’re gaining
His lone topaz eye, the other lost in battles past, gleams
His ancient cunning conjures what it instinctively known
Evil men won’t take his life; he enters the space of dreams
He offers himself, worthless, as his body turns to stone.
Written in response to the tag from Rory and the Tell the Story Challenge. The rules state that I must now tag 3 other bloggers to tell a story based on my chosen picture which is below. However, when there is fun to be had I like to share it with as many people as possible so I’m giving an open invitation to anyone who loves writing short stories:
Nicely done Lisa, imaginative and expressive 🙂
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Thanks Rory and thanks for the tag 😊 xx
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Reblogged this on A Guy Called Bloke and K9 Doodlepip! and commented:
Sinah …and the space of dreams …
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Thanks Rory XX
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Always a pleasure Lisa, great poem – thanks for playing the tag 🙂
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Wonderful imagination.
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Thanks Sadje 😊 xx
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You’re welcome 😉
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Love the picture, windows and allewaye are always intriguing, I hope to have a go.
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I shall look forward to reading it 😊 x
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Great poem, and isn’t that a lovely image!
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Thanks Peter 😊 xx
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Wow, to turn to stone in war, what could be more stronger a protest by a hapless strength.
I wonder. Good one. Thanks.
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What indeed? Thanks so much 😊
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Wow.. Loved it!👌
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Thank you :O) x
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wow! powerful images conjured up here! X
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