HISTORY, BLOODY HISTORY

And, coincidentally, one of the books I am reading right now, on recommendation from my father, is Voyager by Diana Gabaldon, part of the Outlander series. The piece has generally good flow but, of course, I have some suggestions. These deal with word order or pacing issues except for line 21, which appears to be missing part of the line. I like the heptameter, it lends itself to this type of story. As always, take my suggestions and use them as you will: ----------------------------------------- Like silent witnesses to battles, fought and lost or won Broken walls of peasants’ houses, [now] all that’s left of homes. Sheep graze among the grassy ways, where villages once stood, For noblemen, sheep made more cash than kinsmen ever could. And safe above these peasant ruins, flags flying from his keep, He’d dined on venison and now our feudal master sleeps. On feather bed he [rests] his head, silk sheets up to his chin A thunderous roar awakens him, “Cameron! let me in!” He’d put on lights at the front door, now butler hid a yawn The laird arrived in dressing gown, with shotgun under arm The bolt slides back, with noisy “clack” the main door now unlocked The butler points another [gun], loaded but [mere] half-cocked. The great oak door flies open, catching butler by surprise, [Knocking him senseless], [leaving naught but laird and] Nemesis. In doorway stood man wearing hood, his face could not be seen But yellow eyes in dark [, dark] cowl took in the fateful scene. “In my day,” growled the hooded man. “the laird’s wealth was his kin. [And] how many loyal, [soldiers] he could raise in the glens. The land was shared and no one dared to try to steal our rights But now by stealth you claim what’s ours, how do you sleep at night?” The shotgun, fired at point-blank range, hit [Missing rest of line] When Cameron kicked the heap of clothes, no body was inside A cold wind blew, the laird he knew dark forces were about The full moon lit the scene as laird tried first to scream, then shout So if you are in Glen Colqhan and striding out to feel The solitude, remember that this feeling isn’t real. Land you bestride; my kinsmen’s pride and should be theirs’ again The laird? a sad black lamb among the white ones on the Ben. ---------------------------------------- --Jonathan Annoying the world, one person at a time (Group discounts available)