The Eye of the Beast

I was strolling around the cemetery

On a Sunday afternoon,

When the crumbling earth had opened up

And I fell in a werewolf’s tomb,

I wouldn’t have thought it possible

Were it not for the werewolf’s teeth,

That grazed my arm, and cut my hand,

It was way beyond belief.

But there it was with a canine head

And a slack and open jaw,

Just half a man and half a beast

With a mouth like the devil’s maw,

Its teeth were sharp, serrated as

The blood ran down my arm,

Went mingling with the ancient fur

That had kept the creature warm.

I must have shrieked in the ancient grave

For they came to pull me out,

But once they noticed the wooden stake

Leapt back, with many a shout,

They all shrank back away from me

As if I was unclean,

And left me shivering by the grave

Like a leper in a dream.

And so I slunk back home again

Bent over in my shame,

I padded swiftly through the weeds

Like a dog that’s going lame,

The blood had clotted along my arm

Had soaked right through my shirt,

So I thought that I’d better hide it then

By rolling in the dirt.

My spectacles were cracked by then

So I cast them off, aside,

I couldn’t believe my vision, with

My eyes, so open wide,

I saw with pin-point clarity,

Not like I’d seen before,

When everything, both near and far

Was seen through a hazy blur.

My wife was sitting and waiting in

Her old and comfy chair,

And though she greeted me cheerily

I could only smell her hair,

But just one thing had startled me

And it’s worthy now to note,

My eyes had sought out her jugular

Soft pulsing at her throat.

It didn’t take me long to tell her

Why I felt unclean,

She bathed and smeared my hand and arm

With some white unguent cream,

Then in the kitchen, later on

Just as the Moon would rise,

She waved a jar of bright red blood

Right before my eyes.

‘Now drink,’ she said, ‘drink every drop,

I know this ancient cure,

And I don’t want to see you stop

Before I have you pure,’

And so I did, this cloying drink,

A foul and horrid taste,

And later on I found she’d made it

From tomato paste.

‘There’s lots of other condiments

I mixed into this crud,

I had to make you think that you

Were drinking human blood.’

‘I’m cured of drinking blood for life

I said, ‘how did you know?’

‘My father was a werewolf too,

Some many years ago.’

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[J.J.Cooke]

This is great man. Really enjoyed reading it. New here, I'll be reading more of your stuff for sure!

[Ellen Hammond]

That is quite a tale! I am not a fan of werewolves and such but I still enjoyed reading your poem.

[MomzillaNC]

Brilliant structure and gripping tale as always.

One note on the established lore: Stakes, crosses, garlic, etc are for vampires. Beheading, silver bullets, wolfsbane, etc are for werewolves.

[David Lewis Paget]

The people who usually hunt down werewolves aren't usually well read, Denise. maybe they staked it for good measure. Or could it have been a Vampwolf? Who knows, I certainly don't. I just-a tella da stories!

[MomzillaNC]

LOL! You certainly tell the stories brilliantly!