The Beast Poem by Mark Sellen

In a rage the mad dog plunges,
Fangs a gleaming, eyes on stalks,
As if it was the beast itself,
Woman stands no chance,
Filled with terror, trembling,
She retreats across the room.

Seeking shelter, though to no avail,
For now the beast has thrown itself upon her,
Blows are exchanged,
Tuffs of hair wrenched out,
Woman is ready to succumb.

Suddenly, there is a stirring below,
A child’s voice and a baby wailing,
The beast distracted, relaxes it’s grasp,
And woman gets her chance!

With one last effort,
She manages to break free,
Escapes the dark,
And descends the stairs,
Finding sanctuary below.

Mother and children huddle together,
Squeezed into a single bed,
Warmed by their mental fusion,
Against the woe,
To melt the dread.

Weeping is ripe, all are on edge,
Yet the beast takes no heed,
It mopes around the floors above,
Considering it’s prey,
It’s desires aired and anger subsided,
Confusion now reigns.

Come the dawn,
Weary eyes, stained with tears begin to open,
To a brighter world, becoming clearer,
For now daylight has returned,
And the beast has fled,
To torment other victims,
Until perhaps it’s dead?