This is one of my favorite poems that I wrote for my eighth grade poetry unit. I present to you, “The Beast.”
The Beast prowls by the gates,
impatient to be unleashed.
Eager to return to the hunt
and sink her teeth into the prize.
But she has been banished here
by the keepers of her prey.
She cannot escape,
yet she scratches at the mass that holds her,
the horrible sound carrying down the corridors
as the obstacle slowly chips away.
She howls in frustration
as pieces of her prison fall away,
yet in whole it stands strong.
Bored, she turns to her cell.
What here can she do?
What to climb on?
What to destroy?
It depends on where she is held-
the keepers rotate her containment.
Sometimes she has company.
A keeper is kept with her,
much to their annoyance.
She scrapes at the walls,
calling out for freedom,
and bothering them in hope of release.
This time, she is alone.
The keeper would not stay with her.
The other obliged.
They needed help with the target anyways.
So there is nobody to appeal to;
no chance of sympathy.
I am a keeper:
the one who keeps her company.
Who escaped that fate, this time.
As her prey is moved again,
the other keeper turns to me.
“Unleash the Beast.”
I protest the order.
We know what will happen.
She will come for it,
again.
But the other stares me down.
“It’s been long enough. Go.”
And so I do.
I loiter down the passageway,
unenthusiastic about my task.
But I have my orders
from the head keeper.
I undo the latch.
Do I really have to?
Yes, I do.
I open it hesitantly, slowly.
The Beast pushes towards me.
As soon as it is open
just enough for her to squirrel through
she is out.
She ignores me, running past.
She is free!
She does not know where the target is,
where it has been moved to now,
but she does know where it often is.
She closes in on that place,
leaping towards her anticipated prize.
And the cat is on the counter again.
Time to lock her back in Mom’s room
while we eat our dinner.
