Blood Lust

what he sees scares him, makes him shudder,
   that thick, muscular neck of that ogre
      angling out from under that rock skull,
         taut trapezius, menacingly dark, dull;

beneath brutish brows, sharp, smoldering,
   blood-shot eyes glare, ferociously scanning
      the arena for anyone daring, still standing,
         trumpets blast, the maddened mob starts to sing;

before the crazed crowd, they clash once again,
   pandemonium with every slash and then,
      both mortally struck, they stagger and fall,
         the rabble's blood lust, not appeased at all !
Copyright © | Year Posted 2007

Poem

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