The Werewolf in the Pale Moonlight

The Legend of the Hunter and the Hunted

The night was dark, damp, and eerie,

That night was wet, cold, and dreary,

As the car drove wildly through the rain,

Bringing down an animal in blood and pain.

The driver stepped out to see a large wolf,

Struck down on the silent, wet, deserted road,

He was shocked to see the animal covered in blood,

Which clawed him and sprang into the shadows,

As the rain watered his dripping blood.

Ray was back home, bleeding and wet,

That wolf was large, black and it was fierce.

He washed and licked his wounds that night,

Then woke up to see a wolf in the candle-light.

The woods were dark, wet, and deep,

He could not find peace to fall asleep,

The Lycan was hungry and needed to feast,

He fed on the birds, rabbits, and the wild beast.

The next morning, he woke up to find himself,

Bloodied, naked, and afraid near a jungle stream,

He walked back home out of view,

Covering himself with leaves and mud,

He was finally clean in a tub of soapy suds.

Ray could not explain what had happened that night,

But he remembered part of it in horror and fright,

He was not a monster in his heart he knew,

And who would believe what he had been through?

A group of campers was murdered in the woods,

Ray was certain that it must have been a mountain bear,

Which was out after the winter season, from his lair

There were so many bears, who would wander into his town,

Killing dogs, sheep, cattle, and anything that moved around.

Then again it happened and this time he was more aware,

He was now hunting and killing under the full moonlight,

Creating mayhem within woods, towns, and the villages,

Hunters were now called by the people, to set-up animal cages.

The band of hunters came armed with weapons,

Contraptions of varied design, heralding deaths of all kinds,

Special guns to hunt werewolves with bullets of silver,

To make the critters die, in anguish and in pain,

With the death of a thousand and one shivers,

To cover the shadow of the moonlight with its bloodied stain.

Sheriff Ray knew that this needed to be brought under control,

Bringing back peace to his town was his primary goal.

This was his town and these were his people,

It was his land, from School to Church Steeple.

The hunters needed to be sent out of the place,

To be hunted, trapped, and chased.

That night when the Lycan howled at the full moon,

Ray knew that all was going to go back to normal,

As the last hunter was killed and buried in the woods,

The Sheriff was greeted with love, kindness, and respect,

By the town and the people, he was sworn to protect.

It was Sheriff Ray, the town’s Werewolf to save and to defend,

The innocent townspeople from a bloody, gory end,

From the Vampires and Monsters waiting outside the city gate,

Dead Hunters, Zombies, and dervishes filled with evil and hate.

Poet’s Note: This Poem on the Werewolf is inspired by the myth, legend, and folklore of the Werewolf which has existed in human history for millennia.

Several writers have been fascinated by Werewolf folklore for centuries. The Lycan has inspired a number of literary works, television series, and movies.