Bloodmoon Rising
Ian S. McClure
I have seen the Bloodmoon rising,
As werewolves snarl and maim.
The pack's song of howling,
Echoing without aim.
I have run through reddened night,
Leaving my camp behind.
Irrefutable, terrible fright,
Rampaging through my mind.
I have seen the sanguine flow,
As flashing fangs sunder my flesh.
The prey captured and brought low—
And yet now I felt bravery afresh.
I have slashed with hidden blade—
The monster's life waning.
And as I escaped that damned glade,
I had felt my fear fading.
But I have seen the Bloodmoon rising,
As werewolves snarl and maim.
My newfound song of howling,
Echoing without aim.
((Author's Note)): This is actually my first-ever poem, written for the 'Hug a Werewolf' event happening on the site! Please comment or critique if you feel like it, and thanks for reading!
Comments
Also, I don't know that one, Lissette. I'll have to ... more