(14) The Feisty Artist Poem by J.B. LeBuert

(14) The Feisty Artist

Rating: 2.8

The miners liked fun so they hired an artist.
She had great talent and the guile of the smartest.
She brought a small troupe to help with risqué stage plays.
They cheered this fair woman, she set their hearts ablaze.

She changed the hearts and minds of the entire village.
Her arrival would finish the Shewolves pillage.
She enchanted the people and also the pack.
Her wiles and physique halted the Shewolves attack.

The Shewolves could smell her scent, from a great distance.
The Shewolves would stalk her, with no real assistance.
They lurked in the shadows, but came quite close to her.
She was bold and unafraid, and often did purr.

They began communicating early one day.
She was lying in the sun, while they were at play.
They were drawn by her scent, wafting on the moist wind.
She could just sense their coming, eyes closed as she grinned.

At first they were careful not to make any noise.
As they approached her they started to lose their poise.
They could hear her purring in her feigned deep slumber.
She opened her eyes; they knew she had their number.

They could have mangled and maimed, and torn her apart.
They sat and they stared, knowing her kind gentle heart.
The mother Shewolf came close, and licked her small hand.
It was a very precious sight there on the sand.

This first touching of human hand and the wild beasts,
Forever changed the outcome and began a feast.
When the miners heard what had happened this strange day,
They started to change their thoughts, and their killing way.

The rumors of peacetime were not believed by all.
It would take months for the people's hatred to stall.
The wolves were wary and weary from years of war.
They had now learned to hate the humans to their core.

The real feast came after the immense harvest time.
The villagers cheered and the evening was sublime.
The artist performer and her troupe were all there.
She brought the mother Shewolf to the center square.

Nobody could think that this day would ever come.
The beautiful artist fair, had struck them all dumb.
The miners and all agreed, she was the smartest;
Their applause was reserved, for The Feisty Artist.

The fourteenth 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.
Roseann Shawiak 20 January 2014

Very interesting poem, kept my attention to the end. Great imagery and expression. Thank you for sharing, RoseAnn

0 0 Reply
J.B. LeBuert

J.B. LeBuert

Kenmore, New York
Error Success