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The pteradon goes soaring through
The dark and sullen, moonless night,
A creature from some nightmare past
Returned to haunt within our time.
Bat-winged like some stealth bomber
It casts an eerie shadow down,
As through the night, it slowly stalks
To kill without a single sound.
A giant, birdlike shadow falls
Upon the unsuspecting far below,
Until seeing prey the creature dives
And soon hot blood begins to flow.
The streets run red as through the night
The pteradon swoops and feeds,
Slaughtering all passers-by
Not merely killing for its needs.
Until the National Guard is called
To hunt the unknown killer down,
But with the waning of the moon
The pteradon has gone to the ground.
Within the attic of a derelict house
The creature rests and hides by day,
Until the moon begins to rise
And through the sir the creature sails.
Sailing like a ship of death
The bat-winged terror haunts its prey,
Until the dawn comes round once more
And then to ground, it goes again.
For many nights the creature hunts
And slaughters every living thing,
Unfearful of the National Guard
And retribution that they might bring.
A town in fear, a state alert
Of new bloodshed through each night,
And only daylight stems the flow
And brings some hours of sweet respite.
Until one night as it sets out
Some watchers see it leave its lair,
And when it returns from its night’s kill
The National Guard are waiting there.
With guns and weapons they set out
To launch a lethal cannonade,
Bazooka, canons, flame-throwers
Bombs and mortars and grenades.
Well on past dawn the battle rages
Ancient death versus modern weapons,
Until at last the monster falters
As death does take the pteradon.
Still, as the day gives way to night
The people lock their doors from fear,
And hope the distant whooshing sounds
Do no mean another pteradon nears.
© Copyright 2021 Philip Roberts
Melbourne, Victoria, Australia
About this poem
The pteradon goes soaring through The dark and sullen, moonless night, A creature from some nightmare past Returned to haunt within our time.
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