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.

 

 

Encounter!

On his way to meet friends at a hotel

set in a valley amongst trees

the journey took him on lonely roads

untouched and unspoilt

elements of magic and ancient legends

around the dips and bends!

 

Now dusk wished he was not on his own

eyes tiring in the gloom

hindered by a thickening mist in the valley

the radio crackled annoyingly

ahead saw somebody walking in the road

at a good pace they strode!

 

Approaching seemed to walk into his path

yet no sound of impact felt

even driving slow could not avoid a collision

coming to an emergency stop

concerned had to reverse back to be sure

frantically had to explore!

 

Hesitantly got out into the swirling moist mist

glad he brought the torch

searched in a frenzied manner a long stretch

of  road and grass verge

nothing was there no body of man or beast

then all rationality ceased!

 

Petrified to be there what had he really seen

heard a noise what was around

quickly got in the car accelerating forward

not caring visibility was poor

until his speed made him swerve just missing

the car a tree nearly kissing!

 

Inches from its base halted spooked drove on

the faint lights of the hotel

came into a weary man’s gaze a relieved sigh

the entrance was approaching

parking headed to meet the others inside

fearful with them had to confide!

 

Certain the encounter was real not a memory

maybe a prowling spectre

though an unknown element was with him

had a perception it had come

his skin began to crawl feeling sick and cold

for them all the horror would unfold!

 

The mist thickened around the hotel as they came!

 

The Foureyed Poet.

Drift Wood!

A walk along the beach was where it began

the tide was rolling in.

On holiday in an area steeped in mystery

and maritime legends.

I found what to me seemed just drift wood

with bare feet on it stood.

 

Smooth and well-worn by the sand and sea

curious picked it up.

A name had been etched into the surface

this drew my  attention.

It read The Rising Sun to what did it belong

vibrating something was wrong!

 

Made my hand tingle put it in my tee-shirt

then back to my rented place.

Eager to search and find more information

certain there was more.

Not any piece of flotsam and jetsam here

maybe sunken treasure near!

 

Back home unwrapped this unique drift wood

that still dripped water.

Thought I had dried the excessive moisture

placed it by the computer.

Excitement welled searching for the name

at first seemed a fun game.

 

Finding the reference to a sunken pirate ship

discovering it was a cursed ship!

Came upon the screen in stark bold letters

showing a life-like drawing.

Depicting what it may have looked in battle

a noise it started to rattle!

 

Becoming unstable then crashing to the floor

as if knocked off in anger!

But nobody else was with me in the room

edgy but determined to read on.

Whoever touched anything from that ship 

would be on a hell bound trip!

 

Gasping as the drift wood flew through the air

then the pointed end struck.

Piercing his beating heart falling off the chair

his eyes were soon glazed over!

Being a loner it was days before he was found

nobody had heard a sound!

 

The drift wood was not in his chest any more

a friend took it out of a draw.

 

The curse of The rising Sun had come back!

 

The Foureyed Poet.

 

 

 

 

Published in: on 25/09/2013 at 02:36  Comments (2)  
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