The forest held its breath beneath the moon,
The village fires burned against the cold;
A lonely howl arose too soon, too soon,
A song the oldest storytellers told.
The man who walked the road was known by name,
Yet something waited underneath his skin;
A curse had turned his blood into a flame,
A beast awakened from the heart within.
The silver stars looked down upon the night,
The branches trembled in the winter air;
The hunter searched for signs of human light,
But found a creature running wild somewhere.
Was he a monster or a wounded soul,
A victim chained to magic's cruel design?
The wolf and man were never fully whole,
Two natures struggling in a single line.
When morning came, the fields grew still again,
The footprints faded where the shadows ran;
The world returned its face unto the sun,
And somewhere waited both the beast and man.
For every tale of fur and fang reveals
A fear of what may sleep within us all;
The werewolf walks where human darkness kneels,
And waits beyond the village and the wall.
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Author:
Matthew R. Callies (
Offline) - Published: October 6th, 2026 00:08
- Comment from author about the poem: Just my take on the werewolf legend
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 7
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
- In collections: Heroes, Gods and Monsters, Poems for Spooktober.
Offline)
Comments3
The werewolf legend an archetype printed deep in man's past. Nicely written
Beautifully crafted!
This is one of my favorite subjects.
An amazing write my friend.
A howl of a time! Now THIS is my kind of bedtime story, Matthew. 😂🐺 Villages, moonlight, curses, and something unpleasant beyond the wall…sign me up. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
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