The Moor Beast The bloated form came from afar, Distorted features unnatural, bizarre. Feet slowly eroding the ground, Tread almost like a pulverising sound. Ghoulish grin incisors bare, Huntsman approaches blissfully unaware. Impetuous heartbeat, a meal in sight, Incisors grind an invisible bite. Huntsman closes on windy moor, Penetrating coldness to the core. Waxen eyes hidden behind a mound, Prepare to ensnare without a sound. In range the huntsman stumbles and falls, The beast pounces teeth locked it mauls. With a fluted gulp it leaves, Crimson teeth vescent in the boisterous breeze. A wind swept outcrop reveals a retreat, A louring place to sleep and eat. With each kill strength returns, While ghoulish eyes entrap and burns. Mesmeric ways, and coursing veins, It hunts by day across wind swept plains.Birth sign: Scorpio
You need to log in to edit this poem if it is yours.
View more poems by Mark wells.