(12) The Gold Rush Is On Poem by J.B. LeBuert

(12) The Gold Rush Is On

Rating: 2.8

They had driven off only two miners of gold.
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.

Life would have to change for the deadly Shewolf tribe.
The horror they would now bring is hard to describe.
The choice of the men that came to search for new gold,
Would sometimes be their last choice, as others were told.

The fear of death could be overcome by their greed.
Men will be driven by the fierce need to succeed.
They brought guns, ammo and traps to protect their lives.
The forest and jungle now buzzed like huge beehives.

They felt safe and secure during the daylight hours.
They built sturdy well-made timber lookout towers.
They hired sharpshooters to stand guard just in case,
The Shewolves would try to cause more death in this place.

This would not stop the deadly band of fierce killers.
The days would be quite safe but the nights were thrillers.
Screams and gunshots were heard too often every night.
They couldn't kill any Shewolves; that was their plight.

The only blood spotted when the new sun appeared.
Was that of humans, with more to come, it was feared.
The attacks came always at night with little moon.
Sometimes the puddles of blood made a tough man swoon.

This is not the way the Shewolves wanted to live.
They had given too much and had no more to give.
Soon the miners would bring bloodhounds to track their scent.
They would be hunted whenever they came or went.

It had to be this way for now, the war was on.
They knew that they had to kill until all were gone.
The days turned to long nights and the nights turned to days.
They hunted by night and slept during the sun's rays.

The humans grew bold with the love for the pure gold.
They would not be deterred from their quest, so I'm told.
The Shewolves stayed home, and didn't want to be gone.
They hated this life now that The Gold Rush Is On.

The twelfth poem of the twenty poem Shewolf Saga. Each line of each poem contains twelve syllables and the title is the last words of each of the uniquely formatted poems.
J.B. LeBuert

J.B. LeBuert

Kenmore, New York
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