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THE VERDILLAC (I)

Phil Roberts 1957 (Melbourne)

Banshees shrieking in the night
Warn of dangers lurking in the black,
The smell of death is a warning of
The approaching verdillac.

A monster from myth or awful fact?
No-one can say for sure,
But those who know the smell of death
Stay inside behind bolted door.

When the verdillac is passing through
Little is left living in its wake,
People inside cover their ears to the sound
That their slaughtered animals make.

Farms are stripped of life as though
The victim of a locust plague,
But not plants but animals are taken as
The verdillac devours all beasts chained or caged.

Unchained beasts may stampede to safety
Till the verdillac hunts them down,
Then by the time the humans dare to emerge
No living creature can be found.

A faceless, fearless monster
From fact or fiction? None can say,
But those who dare to investigate
Go screaming to an early grave.

In the big cities, we think we are safe
For the verdillac has nowhere to hide,
But from time to time human corpses are found
Mere skeletons screaming as they died.

As cities encroach on the countryside
The verdillac must soon decide,
Whether to keep moving further bush
Or find dark alleyways in which to hide.

Until the last creature on the planet
Has been devoured by the verdillac,
No matter how long it stays away
We know that one day it will be back.

THE END
© Copyright 2021 Philip Roberts
Melbourne, Victoria, Australia
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Submitted by PHIL_ROBERTS on May 23, 2021

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Phil Roberts

I am 64 and loves cats, rock music, and horror fiction and poetry more…

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