The Sniper

On a roadside cafe the hunter sits,
the deep eyes skate over the bustling crowd
in search of the hunt that often outwits,
teasing the patience of the hunter abound.
From far, squinting against the hot noon sun,
on foxy feet, arrives his enemy
amidst the noise, dangerously silent,
killer watches his eluding quarry.
He uncaps a poisonous needle,
eager to end these endless stalks.
But on a roof-top the sniper waits hidden,
just a trigger away to shorten his walks.
Bullet whooshes across the noisy street,
quiets the killer and his restless feet.

This entry was posted in Poetry on by .

About Rahul Aithal

I am from Mumbai, India. Composing poems gives me immense pleasure. Few poetic sites I write on are -,, and, recently Avant-Garde-Writer's Haven (on Facebook). You could browse my other writes on my private blog, I am glad to have joined this site, thanks to Louis. I hope to add value and get the group going.

2 thoughts on “The Sniper

  1. Louis Kasatkin

    This has a very cinematic quality to it.Instantly placing me in the front row watching a contemporary thriller such as Bond or Bourne.


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