Good Neighbors [Common Meter]

In caverns below the city
lives a beast, reviled.
It's fierce and ancient and patient
-n- won't come up unless riled.

When you read of disappearance:
kidnapped or ran away?
It might be neither one, rather,
it's breached the light of day.

So, if this beast is not one you 
wish to look in the face,
When you take to song and dance:
don't stomp or over-Bass!

POEM: Fond of Monsters

I’m fond of monsters, modern & ancient,
but only monsters who know their nature.
It’s not the wild eyes, but those that’r vacant
that signal the most dire kind of danger.

I tracked one once across a snowy heath,
and when the winds did shift, it caught my scent.
It could’ve wheeled about, baring claws and teeth,
but it had a sniff and moved on – content.

Did I dare stalk the beast any further?
Was I being led into an ambush?
Did it seek concealment for my murder?
And then the break — a gasping air inrush

A sudden realization, I’d been duped,
and was pursuing myself in a loop.

POEM: A Monster in Scale and Disposition

Lumbering lunatic slogs

through the moonlit woods.

If it comes upon a farmhouse,

it’ll eat

a chicken or

a goat or

a girl or

a boy.

They’ll find only buttons and belt buckles,

and maybe loose feathers.


It’s a monster in scale and disposition.



[National Poetry Month: Poem #7]