I will soon be releasing my second poetry collection, Selected Verse: Heroes and Wonders. This is the final poem to be included in that collection, and I will be posting ten verses at a time every few days as part of the build-up to that release. Enjoy:
It lives, it breathes,
It’s senses prowl the land for prey.
It lurks, deceives;
It’s fiendish plan is underway.
Stifled screams across the town
As men of great and high renown
Are found dismembered, savaged, mauled;
All witnesses aghast, appalled
At what now stalks their every night
And makes them huddle round the light,
Hoping it will shield their souls
From the creature’s awful goals.
A shabby man of ill repute,
Who’s seen this bloody scene repeat,
Stands brandishing a weapon crude
Affirming a now ancient creed
To protect the weak and frail,
And set off on the monster’s trail.
Since here no pawprints can be found,
He’ll search for them on softer ground.
Rumours whisper of a hill
Where blood runs cold before it’s spilled;
Where hope is lost and brave men scream,
Haunted by a savage dream.
“That must be where it lays its head,
I’ll ensure it wakes up dead.”
He gathers victuals and supplies
And heads to where the danger lies.
He struggles up a lonely trail,
Determined not to fall or fail.
Thorns tear his furs, cold penetrates
Strength gradually deteriorates.
He sleeps inside a hollow tree,
A dwindling fire dulls misery
Until the morning’s ashes speak
Of the looming struggle bleak.
Hacking through the undergrowth,
He spots a clearing in the east:
Amidst the scattered human bones
He locks eyes with the beast.