Forgotten Ground Regained
The War Worth Waging
Leonard Kress
(after Horace, Ode 1:27)
Don’t fight over drafts that are meant to drink,guzzle till it’s gone, give free reignto those who quaff, who quell tempestsand call for an end to those curt contestsof boisterous barbs ending in bloodshed.Sheath your scabbards and pocket your pistols.Get back to your barstools and ban all brawls,banish what’s dull, double-down with Dionysus,
I’ll tell you my tale of a torrid skirmish,my near undoing, my dodge of deathwhen that poisoned arrow pierced my passion.
No weapon of war could ever wound more.I might have died, dumbstruck and dire,a tragic end, wrecked and weakenedleft by my slayer, slack and slumped over,
my vicious attacker violently venting—Abandon my bed give up your belief,your derelict drama that once I desiredyour hideous hands and hidebound come-onsgroping my goodies, my grand assets.Did you really think I wanted this thingfor more than a minute, a few quick moans.Quit fooling yourself fantastic and fancy,when in fact you’re fragile and foolish
But you, my friends, my fiercest foes,don’t dare to think I’ll divulge her name.Your disbelief would double my doom,and more than mangle my makeshift musings.We know that I don’t deserve her desserts,but the gods still insist, and goad me on,this pursuing her love persisting long pastthese waning wars and waxing defeats.
No weapon of war could ever wound more.I might have died, dumbstruck and dire,a tragic end, wrecked and weakenedleft by my slayer, slack and slumped over,
my vicious attacker violently venting—Abandon my bed give up your belief,your derelict drama that once I desiredyour hideous hands and hidebound come-onsgroping my goodies, my grand assets.Did you really think I wanted this thingfor more than a minute, a few quick moans.Quit fooling yourself fantastic and fancy,when in fact you’re fragile and foolish
But you, my friends, my fiercest foes,don’t dare to think I’ll divulge her name.Your disbelief would double my doom,and more than mangle my makeshift musings.We know that I don’t deserve her desserts,but the gods still insist, and goad me on,this pursuing her love persisting long pastthese waning wars and waxing defeats.
Copyright © Leonard Kress, 2025
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