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A Tale of Feud
I arrived one night when the new moon was bright
whilst the others were howling at the moon.
I was the last of the ten to arrive there and then,
and without doubt we made it not a moment to soon.
We were being hunted down and they were all around;
those hideous creatures, so different to us.
We were hated and despised for being different, and alive,
and we needed to move quickly without fuss.
After moving a short distance we encountered resistance
from our warriors, who wanted to stay and fight.
Cross words were exchanged and tactics rearranged,
and all agreed they would fight for their right.
The skirmishing bats and owls caused some of us to howl,
which alerted the enemy of our position.
But carried on the wind was their smell and we could tell
they were coming from an easterly direction.
The young and old were in no uncertain manner told
to stay hidden, undercover, and quiet.
Whilst we waited attack, the foe’s scouts came to the back,
and began attending to their hidden diet.
The hair on our females and males, stood up like nails,
as the enemy charged, with menacing shouts.
The screams from behind brought the hidden to mind,
so no time was wasted in killing their scouts.
There were no winners here, but all fought without fear,
and many bodies lay on the ground.
Will this feud ever cease, could there ever be peace?
A solution must somehow be found.
The relentless seekers of our blood did what they could
to satisfy their hunger for slaughter and food.
From that nights new born ten, only one breathed again;
the writer of this tale of feud.
poem
by
Orlando Belo
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