The Tatooed Man

THE TATTOOED MAN
May 27, 2008
(This poem uses a list of the following eight words required for a
competition: vile, flash, touch, sweet, picturesque, pale, strike, aroma)

I heard the sound of
fire crackling, the snap
of log and spit of flame--
I turned and saw a
lion's claw, could smell
the vile breath of death
upon his skin, the flash
of sunlight glistening off
its wild grin,
the touch of padded paw,
the sweet sound of jungle rain
that dropped down both
his shoulders to the
picturesque parade upon his
hirsute forest chest
where pale meadows, wind-
blown grass, swept 'round
his elbows, swift and fast
across his back, a moonlit
night where horses strike
and buck and kick
and when he walked with
every step, aroma crept
from hidden depths
beneath, behind, and over.