adamdaniel

A Duel at Dusk

A duel at dusk, behind the oak,
Twixt Desmond and Lord Tyne;
Desmond in his swarthy cloak,
The lord half drunk with wine.

The witness party clamouring,
The moonshine spilling down,
Desmond wryly stammering,
“I’ll see you dead, you clown!”

The owl within the oak looked on,
The breeze pronounced a sigh,
The duelers with their pistols drawn,
Below the sullen sky.

An air of electricity,
Infused the gloomy site,
Glory and publicity,
Would follow from this fight.

Whispers low as bets were placed,
The crowd abuzz with awe,
One shall win and one disgraced—
Conveyed to heaven’s door!

Taunts and jibes arising fast,
Between the rival pair,
Threats of doom irately cast,
With vitriol and flair…

“You dog, you scummy piece of dirt!
You think you’ll better me?
I’ll blow the buttons off your shirt,
And drop you to your knee!”

“Touche, good sir, I think you wrong,
For I’m the better man!
The victor at this twilight throng,
Defeat me? No-one can!”

The overseer read the rules;
“Ten steps and not one less,
One shot only then, ye fools—
Obey this please, I stress.”

Back to back the men stood still,
The crowd in silence cast,
Mesmerised to see the thrill,
Of booming pistol blast.

Up to ten the men paced out,
The crowd awaiting death,
Then a sudden twist, a shout,
And smoky pistol breath.

Orange light — a blazing flare,
Two bodies on the ground,
The crowd in one united stare,
With gasping breath the sound.

Two men slain, in pooling blood,
Their faces in the dirt,
Bleeding out upon the mud,
Irrevocably hurt.

The lord had shot his pistol true,
Despite the drug of drink,
Desmond in precision too,
Had caused the lord to sink.

Noone wins! The man declared,
The duellers both are lost!
Slaughtered, with no party spared,
Into forever tossed!

From this scene you’ll note, my friends,
The bitter cost of hate—
Into greater dark it wends,
No virtue to placate!

Out the crowd dispersed in time,
The duellers’ bodies strewn,
The owl in measured, mournful rhyme,
Below the pallid moon.

ADL