Biography of J.B. LeBuert
J.B. LeBuert Poems
It smelled the strong odors with its pointed short snout.
It knew how to hunt, creeping down and staying low,
The saliva began to secrete and to flow.
She'd drag some back to the lair, for all to devour,
It was matter of choice, not an obsession.
I viewed with my camera, that's my confession.
Killing as they went without caring their food's worth.
They moved with stealth and grace, like a well-oiled machine.
Their lack of fear would cause the demise of one teen.
The sixteen wolves were fleeing from the hunter's front.
The trackers and hunters had supplies that would last.
It was raining hard, and the trail was fading fast.
Their attack had worked and was considered quite bold.
The gossip had spread and now more miners came armed.
It would be harder to live now, men had been harmed.
My Son's Funeral
You picketed at my son’s funeral today.
My wife had to restrain me, and hold me at bay.
Sure, you got your much wanted publicity.
It came with my disgust, of your duplicity.
You must know that you haven’t a clue,
What the Lord desires, or will do,
When She judges you, on that fateful day.
You may start crying, and begin to pray.