The Snarling-Fucking-Hounds Of The Battlefield… Draw Closer

by Paul Tristram / June 27th, 2021

… and cue the Crwth strokes
as the boat oars,
dip, and slide…
the Shore approaches us,
and vice versa…
I smell urine in the air,
it’s sweet,
which represents
Excitement…
Fear is more dank and musty.

The distant Drumming,
can be felt,
slightly more than heard,
in present position
… it is now a Marker.
I answer myself,
in my own eagerness,
with “Fuck Their God.”

My Brother is arms length,
and will stay standing-so,
until Focus dissipates
into a Bloody Victory.
I already know, by heart,
each and every first ‘Move’
my Kinsmen will make
… upon Battle Horn
unleashing… like Devils…
the Barbarian Ancestry
which waits within our Souls.

Paul Tristram is a widely published Welsh writer who deals in the Lowlife, Outsider, and Outlaw genres.  He wrote his first poem as a teenager following his release from the (Infamous) Borstal ‘HMP Portland’, and he has been creating Literary Terrorism ever since.  His novel ‘Crazy Like Emotion’ is available to purchase right here . Also his collection of shorter fiction Kicking Back Drunk ‘Round The Candletree Graves' is available to purchase at https://bookgoodies.com/a/B0DFMTSR4F Both books are published by Close To The Bone Publishing. Read other articles by Paul, or visit Paul's website.

This article was posted on Sunday, June 27th, 2021 at 8:02am and is filed under Poetry.