Reyvrex Questor Reyes

The Ballad Of Bessy - Poem by Reyvrex Questor Reyes

Bessy pulls the cart towards home sweet home that day
Her size makes pulling baby carts as mere child's play
She's huge, a Labrador, obtained from Russian friend
Trained by cop, we'll call Tim - that isn't his real name

Tim can slug between the eyes crooks across the street
His temper's short, but long the distance he'd shoot straight
His baby, Bessy pulls in cart as they would stroll
Today could be the day, she waits maternal call

So many pats, did Tim bestow on Bessy's head
As due reward for deeds of bravery she'd made
To Bessy it's worth all to life and what it brought
And with her newborn pups, she's bound for added worth

One fateful day, as Tim was out, the stork came in,
And for Bessy it looks like Fate did show her grin,
But as her seventh pup was out, a wolf came by
It bit the baby that so loud it now did cry

Still in maternity, she sprang to guard duty
To give battle, protect her tuft, succeed ably
She'd killed the wolf, at last, but not without its price
Bloodied and stained, she hardly moves from where she lies

But worse is for the fox that now nary is seen,
Concealed in undergrowth from where it once had been
The stench of death will fill the air in future days
Or else its rotted corpse thereat forever stays

As Tim arrives, she thought a pat would ease her pain
She whined a bit to point out to where she'd lain
Tim saw the baby bleeding red from dangling arm
And felt the matching blood on Bessy's face still warm

To Tim this meant a smoking gun that he has found
As victim and the culprit were all still around
Ten years of Police work taught him to act now fast
He struck at Bessy who just stared feeling aghast

The pat that Bessy yearned now came, but seemed too hard
It split her skull and felt as though there flew a shard
Her pups, too, Tim held nothing back, he game them all
She watched with mournful eyes as last of them did fall

She stared at Tim with eyes where now fresh blood had sprung
As if to say, 'If you'd kill me, please spare my young, '
'I've only done the best I can, if not enough,
Then punish me, but please, let live a single pup.'

Times that Tim's been judge, jury, executioner
Verdict's been slug between the eyes of whomever
A welcome thought for Bessy to befall that fate
When life has got more stings than even Death itself

Bessy now moves hardly from where she lies
It's been a year ago, yet Tim secretly cries
Her bones nary will know why man could make those slips
Or why often heroes would die in sinking ships.

Topic(s) of this poem: dogs, heroine, justice, tragic

Form: Ballad

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, August 7, 2012

Poem Edited: Saturday, April 30, 2016

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