evil for evil
good for good ~ can there be trades
trader for traitor
is it wrong to wish
ill on others ~ it is not
I've heard you've back pains
trust standards sides low
I err the side of caution
er ~ more Brit or Reb
Brits says it as er ~
well crossed Doctor Watson air
Rebs word of caucean
ask me anything
and I'll answer true or false ~
tis you must decide
I say you speak false
nonsense what was the question
~ decide true or false
Fields that echoed with the muskets' rattle;
Blood of Yanks and Rebs spilt in dire battle;
Now serene with murmurs of restless ghosts,
Of men who died among the frenzied hosts!
Are those the sighs of souls heard with each breeze,
As winds stir dancing leaves of ancient trees?
Do winter winds shrieking 'bout Round Top Hill,
Recall screams of men, their fate to fulfill?
Heard are moans of dying men, laurels won,
Or is it groans of pine boles 'neath sere sun?
Lincoln's speech yet echoes to honor they,
No matter the hue of cloth worn that day!
Should phantoms yet ask if they died in vain?
"Nay! Nay! Due to you this land rose again!"
Entry for Mark Massey's "War Sonnet" Contest
(6 January 2019)
Descending the hill, they danced to old reels
Most composed with a Southerner's pen
Four years the blood spilled, half a million were killed
But the States were united again
Celebration complete, the Rebs left Tennessee
The young soldier said, "Sarge, no more slaves
Just one thing bothers me, they were already free
From the bulk of those sent to their graves"
And the sargeant replied as he gazed at the skies
"It's the mighty and wealthy who rule
And they get to decide, while the poor pay the price
But it's God who determines the fool"
From the first instant
my eyes laid bare
circled and squared
at the feet
of a Vitruvian man,
the one uniqueness
in my possession,
I was lust to your loins
as images permeated
and shivered my thighs,
I felt a rising veracity
to savour the tang of you
longing to rip your Levi’s
into little streamers and hang them
from my window,
while tieing your Johnny Rebs
to my planter box,
the world would know
you were mine
I became the seductress
you could not resist
relentless,
designing schemes
so Machiavellian,
Lector would
have been impressed
and helped
shameless in my pursuit
pulling out all stops
I acted unaffected,
but the sight of your length
made me drool
my first tell
finally,
the maelstrom
churning my gut
my hunger,
gave me away
under the slick
of your hands,
my body arched
addicted to the textures
and plains,
mania seized all good sense
I writhed as you rocked,
by the time your hands
released my breasts,
I was howling my release
a wildcat thrashed to frenzy
my tricksters hand called
and beaten by a pro
who could have guessed?
ME!
aced by the hand of a machinehead