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Not for the faint of heart. Have I succeeded with this poem?

by  |  earlier

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This is a far cry from my usual poetry, but I just had to try just one.

The Heart Of The Matter

All night long bayed the hound from h**l,

while doggedly sniffing the air.

If only the dawn would sound its bright bell,

the beast would return to its lair.

Still, on riverbank I lay with reed piled upon,

and my breathing I thought to ease.

As I must lie secreted until the rising sun

had lightened the eastern frieze.

In darkness of night the hound does run,

ever outstripping its prey.

Until the rising of the morns saving sun,

drives the fiendish hound away.

So I remain veiled till I hear dawn's bell,

and to linger; murmuring no sound.

To tell of the terror that befell Sparrows Dell

after the attack of Satan's black hound.

With eyes of blazing fire and fangs all bared,

there were none to take its life.

Sparrows Dell had no men for all were scared.

and cowering with children and wife.

Much blood did run and bones did break

of victims both young and old.

Randomly choosing all it desired to take,

tearing at those it took hold.

The hour of three; far long the morning dawn,

I from my hiding place in sorrow

viewed the carnage of the villagers dead and torn,

prayed for the coming of the morrow.

The hound sensed my presence and I in terror

turned unknowing which way to go.

But to late I realised my foolish and fatal error,

now soon my blood would freely flow.

I ran, stopped; and turned to face the beast,

its head was covered in blood.

And I knew that I was to be the beast's last feast,

its foul breath I smelt where I stood.

A terrible growl came from its jet-black throat,

its drool soaked the earth at my feet.

And its lips curled back as at the bow of a boat,

it was death I knew I would meet.

Then in one last hope I took a step forwards

not knowing where lay may strength.

Into its gaping jaws I thrust my arm full inwards

until my arm was in at elbows length.

As blood shot out from its foul stinking gullet,

it struggled to tear me apart.

But grasping the thing I sought did remove it,

and fast in my hand came its heart.

I sank to my knees and held the heart on high,

and I squeezed until it burst asunder.

Then laughed as a beam of light cut the dark sky,

from the beast's lair sounded thunder.

The village no longer stands on red stained grounds

where the beast took all in sight.

All except one who's blood mixed with the hounds,

howls from the beasts lair at night.

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13 ANSWERS


  1. If I may say so, I just think it rocks!  I'm glad I read it.


  2. That is really great!!! wow its kinda spine tingling and its very good

  3. love it

  4. This is very graphic and the images come to life with your words!

    You're excellent at painting a very vivid picture.

    (My own preference is your gentler writings.)

  5. Truly a heroic, and epic poem. I really don't know what else to say. That's just not something I was ready for this morning. Thanks for "trying" one.

    Edit: I mean all that in a good way. I'm just at a loss for words that can convey how much I enjoyed that.

  6. wow thats deep.its really good. you should publish a book!!

    dont get too depressed k?


  7. Yes, you succeeded. You did it well. It's an amazing story in a poem. Well written. Yes, I think with the determined courage you expressed an arm could rip the heart out. Reminds me of the 'real' big bear stories told by my grandparents and parents.  

  8. Yes, you got to the heart! lol  Sounds like the makings of a movie here!  Well executed.

  9. WOW!!!! I love it, it's kinda twisted but incredibly well written!

    Really paints a picture and draws you in which i think all poetry should. Congratulations!!!


  10. A howling success!  You are a master story teller, sir. By Stanza three I was holding my breath, felt limp by the last!  

  11. Another gem of narrative poetry!  Wonderful, and if it lacks in some anatomical realism as has been suggested, then it has nonetheless captured the imagination of all who have had the pleasure of reading it.

  12. Your attempt is a success. You, and one or two other poets who post on this site, are beginning to make me believe in reincarnation!

  13. I obviously read this out loud, with suitable gestures and flourishes - a Victorian melodrama if ever I read one....Hound of the Baskervilles springs to mind.

    Now, some criticism, there are a couple of typos (which I'm sure you will find on re-reading)and I lost the rhythm in places 'The hour of three' verse for example, is very awkward

    and one teensy-weensy little physiological problem....could some-one reach a heart from plunging their fist down a creature's throat? (could you for the pedants like me - do a rewrite and some-how get a knife into the hand you use?)

    However, I must say, I should love to see you at a podium declaiming this with gusto....you will have all the kind-hearted maidens fainting away behind their fans, yet secretly loving every minute of it.

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