The Bog – A Dark Poem

As fading light danced with drifting fog,

Eerily drawn am I towards croak of frog.

Fast approach ‘cross soggy ground

Within an instant airs void of sound.

No frog, no cricket, no mosquitoes buzz,

For just a moment lost I was.

Then sound of sucking, foot in mud,

Terrified of dying, death in cold blood.

In fear for my life standing stone still,

Uncontrollable shivers as if a cold chill.

Slivers of light from cloud covered moon,

Praying to God it would be over soon.

Out of the shadows arose fanged beast,

Reason why sounds of nature had ceased.

Standing a head taller than tallest man I knew,

Sabre from sheath like lightning I drew.

Mustering courage for fear of flight,

I stood my ground determined I would fight.

From the shadow he stalked nose to the wind,

Catching my scent certain I had sinned.

For what reason would God unleash Satan’s fury,

Except in the hopes under bogs mire bury.

The glint of my blade must have captured his eye,

Like a cat through the swamp grass this evil did fly.

With the swipe of his hand claws hit their mark,

For barely a second the whole world went dark.

Such is my luck that the sabre stayed grasped,

Struggling to my feet with a faint thrust he gasped.

Blood on my blade proved the devil had been hit,

He stumbled and roared and crimson he did spit.

Shaking off the fog and the pain in my chest,

Determined to lay this monster to rest.

I trudged through the mud not a second to spare,

With razor sharp edged to the hilt I did bear.

Snapping his jaws his tail cracked like a whip,

Avoiding the fork as I tottered and slipped.

His anger was evident by his blood curdling cry,

To finish him off it was certain do or die.

Taking his tail with one mighty blow,

It continued to move as if putting staging a show.

With beast so distracted by the lose of his tail,

His color of skin turned obsidian to pale.

I drew back once more committed to his end,

Slice through his neck at the spine blade did bend.

As if made of marble all his thrashing came to a stop,

His head tilted forward, to his knees he did drop.

His eyes that did once glow a fiery red,

Turned a dull shade of black, I knew he was dead.

Exhausted and terrified I fell to the ground,

All of natures creatures carried on their sound.

Thing born of nightmares to be consumed by the bog,

Sinking ever slowly ne’er rising hence to slog.

.

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

4 thoughts on “The Bog – A Dark Poem

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