Feb 2012
Charging toward rocks of flesh
And sinew, the sweaty Celt
Grasps at the tattooed native.
Fallen, they writhe in the throws
Of an exquisite battle
To gain not yards, but inches -
The measure of one’s manhood.
And sinew, the sweaty Celt
Grasps at the tattooed native.
Fallen, they writhe in the throws
Of an exquisite battle
To gain not yards, but inches -
The measure of one’s manhood.
I chose the title *** as it reflects the 30 men on the field at any given time of rugby against the almost classical romance of battle that I was trying to evoke.
