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Battle Knackered
Cattle cattle cattle Years of battle A decade waging a pro-war campaign, sabre-rattling zealots at last touch down on the frontline Meeting the chain death of rises lipped by gatlings Skulls in a line, as would dot tribal idols’ feet Slumped dead along ratlines east of the Seine, rivalling rubbish for scent Spent shell wreckage…
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Cold War
Overall it is a dull war A dreaded bore Nothing like the war you think of from stories Gore, glory, posh men ahorse arrayed in pendant-laden grey khaki and sashes, cavalries arranged in lines charging flak cannons under fire, legs exploded by mines, crying oxbridge sorts penning dreadful lines of clumsy-rhymed verse in rat-ridden billets…
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Slip
Deck wet with brackish water Cap’n sashayed, he fell over Skull warped against bulwark Be more careful how you walk.
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War’s Gnawing Worms Chewing Worldroots
Cavalry saddled, dappled flanks foam lathered Rattling at their sallying, fracturing gatling action Cleopatra’s fleet abandons field at Actium, ending the team. Teeming with corpses, sunrise orpiment solifies creamy pinttop waves bloodfoamed Octavian, having smashed Marc Antony’s maritime armies, consolidates Pheasant-fletched arrows along a dead soldier’s ridge like fangs in a fine-toothed comb.
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Hollow Now
You, finest mummer, around whom the glum blubbered with laughter Ready applause at your coming and silence reigning after When you died, that part of me for you alone died too Bikes like ready horses ahead a sluggish hearse, mired by grief Chief among us, bright-headed kindest, admired by all. In the pub an altar…
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Alchemisland 