Sergeant Sims' Saga 0018

Sunday sixth saw some slay scound
corpse soundless sunk in silty sound
where, settled on sand shore, abound
screaming seagulls whose cries sound
from strand to land. Their sounds rebound,
resound against old ships aground
where restless breakers crash and pound.

Forever will his bones be bound
by biting wires wound right around
his battered limbs, still will surround
his skeleton deep underground.
Not floating on the flood was found,
but down beside the damned, deep drowned.

Forensic information found
that someone gunned him to the ground,
and while he from dire wound would swound
with dagger the deceased had downed.
Hell's halls with welcome wild redound.
Another promptly plucked each pound
and paper, from the purse he owned,
picking pockets all around.

Beneath hair stream his skull still crowned
his frightful features fixèd frowned.
The same did Sergeant Sims astound,
together closely molars ground,
and to the Super see him pound.
The latter peered from paper mound.
Said he: 'Hie, harry out the hound
who drowned downed scoundrel, dumped him down
within the sound without a sound,
he must be mad, insane, unsound! '

(14 January 2009)

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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