Friday, July 23, 2010

Werewolf Poems

Too Much

I can’t stand it.
The sound is driving me crazy.
They’re kids. My kids.
How much noise do they need to make?
I need to put a stop to it.

My boys were wrestling.
My little girl was lying on the floor.
Was she hurt?
Was she in Rick and Jack’s crossfire?
Or were they just playing?

“What are you doing?”
Apparently playing.
A part of me wished
I could act that way again.
“Do you have to be so loud?”

“You could play with us Daddy.
Then you wouldn’t notice
how loud we were,” Katie said,
eyes closed, awkwardly spread on the floor.
I didn’t know the dangers that lay ahead.

I Know What You Are

I know what It is.
Fast and strong, like a bear.
Able to stand upright like a mere cat.
Silent, yet loud
and more dangerous than anything alive.

Hair of coarse fibers,
black as night.
Glowing yellow eyes
twinkle in darkness,
searching for human prey.

The moon’s lunation
directs It at Its target.
The victim turns.
With a growl and a yelp
It attacks.

What could I have done?
Would I have been killed too?
When twilight comes
It turns into human form;
in control until the next full moon.


I watched for a month.
The office, the store and home.
Places It traveled.
Its lycanthrope joyride unimportant.
Did It know what it had done?

Last night wasn’t Its first time.
My first viewing
under a bright, yellow moon,
a family of four was mauled.
I hadn’t known what It was.

Regret is strong.
Could I have done anything?
Its name still escapes me.
I call It X.
X calls me dinner.

A sliver of moon is missing.
Tomorrow X will attack
another unsuspecting someone.
I know what X is now,
and how to stop It.


I came upon the transformation,
a jaw-dropping event.
My moment was coming.
X needed no sheep’s clothing
to hide what’s inside.

Guns stuffed
in bib pockets.
My face heated up.
Killing this creature in overalls.
Not a pleasant task.

A feral growling
railroaded my thoughts.
I fired my guns in time.
The bullet chipped concrete,
Missing the target by inches.

Death was near.
Blood stained concrete,
none belonged to the animal,
X was gone.
I closed my eyes for the last time.

What Have I Done?

The sun’s rays beam down
on my naked backside.
Groggily I open my eyes to
a mess of blood and gore.
What have I done?

Standing is problematic.
I’m nude in public daylight.
Is anyone looking?
What have I done?

Running for cover
I left John or Jane Doe behind.
Broken. Beaten. Dead.
I left the body behind.
What have I done?

What was I supposed to do?
Memories start flooding me.
People torn apart.
It scared me.
What have I done?


Clothes are an invention of man.
My father tells me
nudity is a sweet sin only
around women.
I love clothes.

Why was I naked?
Why was I naked in a public place?
Why in broad daylight?
Why does the light bother my eyes?
And why does that man smell so delicious?

A man walked by.
Shouldn’t be a reason to worry.
The old geezer smelled of raw meat.
Or like raw meat.

Why was I smelling delicious humans?
Why did they make my mouth water?
Why was my eyesight so weak?
Why had I been nude?
And why did none of these things bother me?


The hardest part was not knowing.
People are right about that.
Should I worry about it?
Too many people smelled good.
I had to investigate.

A month passed. No answers came.
A mauled corpse, keen eyesight and hearing.
A terrible hunger.
The only explanation was…

I can’t believe it. I’m a –
I dare not use the word.
I fear it won’t be true.
Tonight is the full moon.
If it is true, vengeance is mine.

The next-door neighbor,
the girl who refused my advances,
my parents.
All of them.
No life will be spared.

The Next Door Neighbor

What am I doing out this late?
Crickets are creepy in the city too.
Every step I take, every sound I hear,
echoes like a gunshot.

Imagination plays tricks
on the mind.
A growling sound.
Can’t be real.
Can it?

I hate the dark.
I want to go home.
There’s that growling again.
It isn’t fake.

I hit the ground hard.
The weight registered,
then the growling.
What makes that kind of sound?
No animal I –

The Girl

I knew when I dreamed.
I didn’t know how.
Not everyone did.
Falling off a cliff awoke me.
The dream had become a nightmare.

I needed to read
to stem the adrenaline flow.
My thoughts were jumbled.
Clusters of images.
I was chased to that cliff.

Sitting down relaxed me.
Crime and Punishment did not.
I was determined to finish.
I wish Brad was here.
He knew how to relax me.

The window shattered.
A giant shape lunged at me
pinning me to my bed.
My dream! Was this what chased me?
Was this a crime or a punishment?

It’s Over

I lay sprawled on the ground,
my three kids by my side.
Two hours was long enough.
Playtime is exhausting.
I’m the adult. I say when it’s over.

“It’s over kids.”
Jack sprung from the floor.
He had played
The Hunter hazardously.
“You heard me son.”

Jack dropped the dart gun
sulking away with Rick,
playtime’s fearful neighbor.
“Goodnight Daddy,” Katie said,
kissing my cheek.

She had played the scared girl badly.
She tried so hard. I never scared her.
I nicked the dart gun,
lifting myself from the floor.
“Thank God playtime is over.”