The Big Bad Wolf


This poem won the Dylan Thomas poetry competition and I’m actually pretty proud of that.

Eyes, hungry bright in the dark

And her, pale in the moonlight.

Soft Skin, sweet scent, blood

And a beating heart.


Paws, stalking through the forest.

Her eyes can’t see

The sky for the trees.

Running now. Trapped.

Fear thrums in her veins.

“What is hunting me?”


Fur, brindled and rough,

Rubs against the ground,

Flashes in the night.

Her blood cloak, enticing and warm.


Claws click and her bones

Break. A snarl and a scream

Meld in the dark. Fangs flash

White, blood runs hot.

Fighting, weak now, life blood leaking.

She whimpers.


There is no Huntsman

To save you now.


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