The Hounds of War

 William A. Cook

 The Hounds of War are gathered round

 To forge the battle plan;

 They pat each other on the back,

 And grasp their fellow’s hand.

 To battle stations they disperse

 To carry on the fray,

 These warriors of the word sublime

 That make us weep or pray.

 They swing behind the keyboard now

 That spits out their deceit;

 Their goal, the end they desire,

 That makes their life complete.

 These victors suffer no regrets

 As they pen brilliant epithets;

 And so they ply their lonely craft,

 And carve another’s epitaph.

© Copyright William A. Cook.  All rights reserved.