The Tiger

Author's note: this is allegorical poem about
truth vs ignorance. It's written in the hope that
a few might understand.



                The Tiger

The tiny village lived in fear;
     A terrible tiger was lurking near.
Crops in the fields went untended;
     No one wanted their life ended.
Men and women and children were taken;
     Living people eaten like bacon.
Warriors cowered by the village fire;
     Afraid to arouse the tigers ire.

A frail old man in the background listened;
     Brave men turned coward made teardrops glisten.
He sadly returned into his hut;
     "How can we be in such a rut?"
 He took his spear down from the wall;
     He'd rather die from the tiger's maul.
Out of the village he calmly strode;
     Into the forest along the road.

From deep in the bushes he heard a deep sound;
     The tiger was snoring with no one around.
Silently forward the old man crept;
     Old though he was, he was not inept.
He drew close and noted the breeze;
     It was in his face not back of his knees.
He raised his spear and drew his arm back;
     Then thrust the spear into the shadows black.

Out of the bushes came a loud roar;
     Out of his hand the spear was tore.
The frightened old man backed away;
     Hope was slim that he'd live the day.
From the bushes the tiger burst;
     The old man's aim could not have been worse.
He saw the shaft that was his spear;
     It was hanging from the tiger's ear.

Back toward the village the old man fled;
     The tiger chasing wanted him dead.
The tiger however was out of luck;
     For in his ear that spear still stuck.
The shaft dragged along upon the ground;
     It snagged on rocks and bush around.
The race was close, there was no doubt.
     A warrior saw the tiger and gave a shout.

The warriors jumped and grabbed their spears;
     Not from bravery but from their fears.
Into their midst the old man ran;
     The tiger behind not giving a damn.
A warrior thrust for the tiger's heart;
     Others joined and pierced it's parts.
The tiger fell to it's knees and died;
     The village rejoiced and voiced it's pride.

The little old man who had given his all;
                  was not present in the hall.
Alone and content on his bed he laid;
     A job well done needs no parade.
The tiger's hide was tanned and mounted;
                  The warriors involved named and counted.
But no one named the hero here;
     The little old man who took his spear;
      and pricked the tiger in his ear.