Wednesday Verse - The Hunted

As I slowly bring my writing back on line, I'm reintroducing a regular weekly segment to the blog: Wednesday's Verse. These posts will consist of the first poem written on a Wednesday of any given week. They will be first drafts of verses written for one of the collections in progress..

Today's piece came out of nowhere, and is the second piece of the morning - the first piece, being the first piece of the week, has been shared with my patreons. These verses have been written for Another 366 Days of Poetry, which will be available for sale in January 2024.

Inspiration was drawn from stories of hunting parties of elves, riding out of the Scottish hills, and was written from the perspective of someone caught unawares. 

 

The Hunted

 

I did not hear the horns cry

Their hunting lilt that echoes

Through the dells and hills and vales

Like a desert wind sirocco

 

If I had I would have sheltered

Somewhere hidden, somewhere quiet

And watched the hunters passing by

On the black steeds they do ride

 

I did not hear the horns cry

I did not hide and shelter

I did not watch the hunters

But fled them, helter-skelter

I ducked and dodged and twisted

Like a rabbit on the run

But horses’ hooves are faster

And their hounds with swift feet come

 

Like cats they pounce, the hounds

But with bigger teeth, not claws

And growls that swear ferocious

From gaping tooth-filled maws

And like a rabbit duly caught

I hit the ground and lay

As still as stone, with heaving chest

As the hunters’ horn did bray

It boasted of a capture

In a strident victory tone

And told the world around it

There was another who’d not return.

I hope this poem finds you well, wherever and whenever in the world you are.