Haughty Huntress

Humorous rhymed poem in 14 lines of iambic octameters.

Through night-dewed glade lit wanly by the misted moonlight, barely seen,

with fairy steps so soft they’d barely bend a single blade of grass,

she passes, fleeting as a shadow falling on a trickling stream;

she pauses, glancing hence and thither, eyes as sharp as splintered glass.

The haughty huntress, fearless, fulgent in the soft and silvery sheen,

her eyes reflecting, yellow, awesome, fixing fear on all who'd see,

and know their death might be mere moments from this frozen, fearsome scene.

But now she turns, her interest fading, shadows dancing, floating free

from all these tiresome, petty peasants trembling 'fore the hunting queen,

disdainful of these trivial creatures, worthless of her dignity,

and back she wends and homeward ambles, scorning prey beneath her worth;

she knows where she’ll find better booty, fuller furrows she can plough,

and saunters through the open doorway, pasting careless pats of earth,

then stares at me and glares at me and then commands with fierce “miaow”.

Reviews

[Rachelle]

And thus, you little prodigal queen returns from her feral prowls - ready to rule hearth and home with a daylong nap.... :D

[Samuel Dickens]

That last line gave me a chuckle. Nice work. It must've been tough to write.