Zak Pearce Poems

Gnarled bark and bitter leaf
Guard well the forest deep
And by the thorns, their tearing teeth
The shadows like to skulk and creep.
...

Let rip the dogs of war!
And loose the rattling guns
Charge head into the gaping maw
'Till blood on the battlefield runs.
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Thum-dum rolls the drum
Beating the beat of marching men
Thum dum rolls the drum
How many men will march again
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Late one night I lay awake,
The storm it battered and blew,
When suddenly, over the lake,
A strange thing flew.
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Red is blood, sweet Aphrodite.
And weak is the flesh that it feeds
For this I beg of thee: unsmite me!
Passion is red; and so is the heart that it bleeds.
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In the bleak deep frozen black
I tread across the icy lake
‘neath my toes you hear it crack
And just go wait for it to break
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