Dienstag, August 03, 2010

Poetically put

Was caught between two lines of friendly fire,
I dug my ditches, hiding in a muddy hole,
went deep enough to keep from choking. A quagmire
kept me from reaching any goal.

I lost my boots and all that counted
me out of simple adolescent games,
Got high above the trench and mounted
a horse whose nostrils spouted livid flames.

The enemies around us simply scattered,
me and the mare were more, like, one than two,
we thought we had the fiendish foes all battered

but never to their purses got quite through.
So please, I beg you, lassie, lad,
fill to the brink my empty head.

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