Battle Scarred and Dangerous
The strength of a wounded man
He rides the bare back of a black stallion,
Sitting tall with a scowl upon his handsome face,
He wears boots made of the strongest wolf whiskers,
And dragon scales corded into his boots lace.
**
As he leaves the community behind to face his demons,
His stallion trots through the valleys of hell,
They ride the crescents of the moon, guided within its light,
Warded by the riches of a white witch’s spell.
**
Hellion hounds hunt his essence,
As they stalk the trail he rode just yesterday,
Until they happen upon his camp, now deserted,
And they destroy the leftover campfire in disarray.
**
He hears the hounds gaining on the heels of his horse,
And pushes his stallion harder until he can set up an ambush,
Hiding his companion in the background of the deepest cave,
Leaving him with the command of “shush”.
**
He races to the end of the nearest rocky outcrop,
And stands to face the oncoming fight,
Bow and arrow in hand, he notches ready in anticipation,
As the pack herds him, surrounding his cordon of rocks to show their might.
**
The battle begins and he slays at will,
But the lead hound skirts his arrows and gains entrance,
Latching onto his leg in a fearless struggle,
Bringing him to his knees in a losing resemblance.
**
However, he may be wounded but he’s not down and out,
Drawing his sword, he slices through his enemy’s heart,
Showing that the letting of his blood just makes him more dangerous,
As he ravishes and tears the rest of the pack apart.
Please click the link below my name to read more of my work. I would also like to thank you for taking the time to read this today and for all your support.
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Originally published on Medium
About the Creator
Colleen Millsteed
My first love is poetry — it’s like a desperate need to write, to free up space in my mind, to escape the constant noise in my head. Most of the time the poems write themselves — I’m just the conduit holding the metaphorical pen.
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Comments (2)
Oh I was so scared when they got him! So glad he persevered and took them down! Loved your poem!
Hell hath no fury like a wounded warrior who's down but not out.