Bigfoot!

Throughout the world legends abound

of creatures said to roam

remote areas of forests and wilderness

tracks found and foot prints

of huge creatures that are rarely seen

or myths that had never been!

 

Like those searching for proof of aliens

and intent ghost hunters

many seek this allusive beast Bigfoot

in inaccessible places

as keen and devoted like other seekers

in the quest for these creatures!

 

Like many Monster legends millions believe

though tracks are found

the theories usually prove to be a false trail

every country has its stories

the more remote harder to instigate a pursuit

which often bears no fruit!

 

Relentless there are dedicated teams hunting

to capture the evidence

resolute in bringing the undisputable validation

it is real and not a story

danger lurks without communication or support

as Bigfoot goes on being sort!

 

The Foureyed Poet.

 

 

Decision!

Out of breath he staggered to the edge

not realising the sheer drop

in turmoil uncertain of what to do next

he sensed the men were close

it was meant to be a short break away

sounds here he could not stay!

 

Nowhere to run made an instant decision

there was a river far below

so jumped that was how desperate he felt

better to die than be captured

time seemed to stop closed his eyes tight

hit water adding to the plight!

 

A fast flowing river pulled him underneath

choking trying to breathe

keeping his head above water stayed afloat

until the current eased

to the rocky bank weak managed to crawl

in a muddy pool did sprawl!

 

The rest was short he could hear the dogs

an awful emotion terror

he had only asked them being lost the way

from a friendly request

they suddenly tried to drag him from his car

drove away did not get far!

 

Their shotgun pellets smashed into the glass

then bursts the rear tyres

now out of control swerved into a nearby tree

instinct gave him flight

the adrenaline gave him the strength to run

but began to feel he was done!

 

Somehow managed to stand and slowly walk

realised the pain in his arm

this was what kept him going he was the prey

for some crazy hunters today

almost crawling up and over the crest of a hill

with all his being did he will!

 

Could see a road some distance down below

a steep slope the barrier

men and hounds were closing in a shot fired

if it was his end it had to be

forcing himself over he started to roll faster

of his destiny no longer master!

 

Agony had permeated his body to weak to cry

he lay broken in a ditch

through blurred vision saw a lorry approaching

no longer caring if he existed

losing consciousness never saw the vehicle stop

nor hunters observing from the top!

 

Several days later awoke in an intensive care ward

relived he was at last safe

until he saw one of the hunters sitting by the bed

dressed in a sheriffs uniform

his uninjured arm in a handcuff clipped to a side rail

had he reached the end of the trail!

 

Petrified at the situation what was happening to him?

 

The Foureyed Poet.

 

On Haunted Ground!

Civil wars must leave such terrible scars

upon a nations memories

what influence on future generations

embedded in their culture

from across the big pond does it exist

those ghosts that persist?

 

On haunted ground do their spirits roam

three hunters wanted to see

out onto the battlefields dared venture

over vast silent earth

respectful of those lives now long passed

and all remnants now masked!

 

Setting their feet upon these acres of green

to find out for themselves

if they could communicate with soldiers gone

delicately on graves to tread

wandering in darkness and the atmosphere

would they want to appear?

 

Electronic equipment at hand ready to be used

to capture any paranormal events

deep sadness now consumed their open minds

as sounds of gunfire was heard

cannons and muskets echoed across the fields

how many times had soldiers yield!

 

There was nobody else to cause those sounds

in that eerie chilling stillness

asking boldly on which side had  they fought

on the recorder a voice was caught

saying confederate in a voice rasping and low

who it was they could not know!

 

The dawn broke and the three were exhausted

leaving they were sure with proof

that in these old fields of many bloody battles

there unresting spirits existed

seeking that rest that had long been denied

but also a sense of pride!

 

The Foureyed Poet.

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