Andrew Foreman Poet Free verse

Before the Beginning

before the beginning,
aches burnt slow fuses 
in blood shrapnel'd fog, 
salted feet tread spattered rain, 
as men held spent while veiled mothers wept; 

growth rings sat lonely on soot tarnished walls, 
regrets wrung young necks snatched in flight down dank halls; 

tho' faithful bones preach virtues of battle, 
good soldiers pray not for eager roots, 
duty once burnished brave Pericles' helm, 
now under hill barrows form shadows for muster, 
feeding shot powder thurible blessings; 

as the fiddle fears the concerto's note, 
unbaptized souls flee the thieving stoat; 

under the moral eye, 
sabers eased in tin, in sighs, 
engendered discourse with the Other,
shattered friends, splintered foe,
remnants of another time; 

desperate for the author's joke, 
unbidden blades pierce tattered cloaks; 

once upright men, wounded grimace men, 
hobbled yet heroic still, 
would dare yet to delve the authentic heart,
and wake the sleeper, sharpen pen, for

without ritual, gods survive war.

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