The Barghest is a figure from Northumbrian folklore. A monstrous black dog with large teeth and claws; believed to be an omen of death. This poem was in response to a prompt on the Top Tweet Tuesday platform on X.

The Bhargest

Sable-sad fur shifting in the gloam, 
you could be invisible but for your coronal eyes
blazing hotter than a hellhound’s, 
and those gouging silver-sickle claws glinting in moondusk, 
your blunt falchion-teeth rattling 
like promethean chains on the windspell. 

It’s hard not to choke 
on the wafting scent of your cavern-heft jowls, 
putrefaction palpable as a spit-roasted suckling pig. 
Sometimes you deafen the darkness with knowing - 
thunder-roars of finality. 

Old lives and older tales tell me to be wary of you. 
Beware of your paws for they will strike me down. 
But I’m no hostage to the opinions of others. 

To me,  you’re simply misunderstood. 
You’re no omen of death. 
Like all dogs, you’re a protector. 
A protector of life. You give us a chance to change, 
to settle balances before it’s too late. 

I’ve been called many names, none my own. 
We are kindred.
Not all that’s written and said, is true.