The Berwac slumps, its breath heaves the dawn
A bellowed call wobe through bone and sinew
Outstretched, its maw agape to silent scream
Do crackle, do creak, do rage, do pity
This beast abides, but how, man does not know
Pierced, cut down, burdened and heavy laden
It lurches trumbled, though by sight flutters
Due West, a mountain rises on clay feet
Out of the East, white fire burns limb and root
A thromb goes out in a sea of faces
Still daylight brings purchase where hope prevails
Great creatures abounding till daylight fades
When the dunderjack's returned to his den
And surly hawk wafted back to her nest
But the Berwac beast will find no slumber
Nor respite of pain this night, till the next
About the Creator
Daniel Cole
Author and artist, I'm finding my spirit again late in life. Old passions for poetry borne of love, loss, hope and pain, things with which everyone is familiar.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.