Madhouse Brawl - A Poem About Angry Drunks in a Fantasy Bar
Poetry by Kibbolt
Brewhouse alive with a gold-lit hue.
Shanty mugs with copious brew.
I arrive, and immediately knew,
angry mugs, tensions brew.
One flick away and the kettle will pop,
a taut spring, currently locked.
Voices are rising everyone in a shout.
A stout! Tipped!
Nectar spilled, time for a bout!
Fists and chairs, they all fly
bottles and mugs, across the sky.
Teeth, and bodies, on the floor,
surviving here is a deadly chore!
A brawny orc lands an eye,
bruised bodies, they now lie,
If nothing is done…
someone will surely die!