"Temple Ruins in Sicily" by Jacob Philipp Hackert‘Let My Footstep Strike the Ground Like a Spear’ by Nathan Dennis The Society October 20, 2017 Beauty, Culture, Deconstructing Communism, Poetry 6 Comments Let My Footstep Strike the Ground Like a Spear A Villanelle Let my footstep strike the ground like a spear Hear me bound through the groves of Sicily Drawing power from an Earth soaked in fear. With father, I run from thicket to clear Mt Etna rising to the west of me Let my footstep strike the ground like a spear A man who bests me for year after year Stronger and taller than I’ll ever be Drawing power from an Earth soaked in fear. While running in stride, these terrors appear How to match the man’s masculinity Let my footstep strike the ground like a spear. Yet, he talks of his troubles drawing near The sun setting on a man such as he Drawing power from an Earth soaked in fear. I, trying to match the man I revere He, tasting the slow loss of legacy Let my footstep strike the ground like a spear Drawing power from an Earth soaked in fear The Tragen Wood A Democratic Allegory Behold the mighty Tragen Wood Where live a noble flock of thrush That feast on endless gifts of good Hewn from the mighty Tragen Brush Yet not so lucky are the larks That lie across the river’s bank No fertile ash, but only sand And brackish waters, darkly dank. Fly starving larks across the hell To shelter in the Tragen wood So bird by bird, their numbers swell To feast on gifts of endless good. In anger do the thrush react Too fearful of the foreign flock So in despair they swear a pact To place in charge a mighty hawk. The fearsome hawk so quickly flies To drive the larks across the bank Harass, give chase, then terrorize The larks to waters darkly dank. Emboldened by his great offence, The hawk demands obedience. Alarmed, the noble thrush devise A march to force the hawk’s demise. So bird by bird, the thrush march on Demanding that the hawk be gone. They tweet and tweet and stamp their feet And dare the hawk to fight their fleet. The sunset melts into the night. Yet still the hawk will not take flight No fear has he over the thrush Who merely tweet from underbrush. Aghast the flock succumb to fear And turn on thrushes weak and near: Accusing of impurity The thrushes’ ideology. So dive they into pyrrhic war Of thrush on thrush on Tragen floor. Sweet eyes they gouge, soft bones they crush Till all lie dead in Tragen brush. The hawk flies up, his battle won The Tragen Wood is his to run The mighty thrush lie in the sun. And thus he eats them, one by one. Nathan Dennis is a Manhattan based playwright and poet of Floridian extraction. A graduate of NYU Tisch’s Department of Dramatic Writing, he is currently workshopping his Greco-Shakespearean tragedy, Lord of Florida, with PrismHouse Productions for a December 2017 premiere. His screwball comedy, The Octopus, was most recently developed through The Set Collective in June, 2017. He served as the publisher and editor of the (now retired) Unscooped Bagel, and currently writes for CoffeeHouse Writers. Related Post ‘A Cello Knows’ and Other Poetry by Andrew Todd ... A Cello Knows Amidst the smoke and light and laughter Along the smiles and cheers thereafter A sound is bled, wrung free from strings It bounds an... Tell the world:FacebookTwitterTumblrPinterestRedditLinkedInEmail 6 Responses James Sale October 20, 2017 That is an awesome first line: “Let my footstep …’ – awesome! Reply Nathan October 20, 2017 Thank you James! Appreciate the compliment! Reply Leigh October 20, 2017 Beautifully written – love it! Reply Nathan October 20, 2017 Thank you for your support! Reply David Hollywood October 21, 2017 From heroic to tragedy, like the entrance to some epic poetry. Great writing. Reply Nathan October 21, 2017 Thank you sir — I appreciate the compliment! Greek epic poetry and stagecraft are my guiding lights. Reply Leave a Reply Cancel Reply Your email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email.