The Hounds of Hell

The Hounds of Hell
The Hounds of Hell  (TheGrinningFrog@Pixabay)

The Hounds of Hell


The curtain opens to the rolling drums

the orchestra begins dramatic tune

with horns who blare their sound onto the moon

a row of strings with color will succumb

soon Mephistopheles takes to the stage

to sing a welcome to adoring fan

while on stage orchestras a slaughtered lamb

His voice a soothing morsel in a cage.

At his heel his dogs leashed in bare their teeth

from North and South he calls upon his hound

who travels head to ground with fire at feet.

They leave a trail of burnt earth underneath

as they will hunt and keep their nose to ground

to gladly feed upon human deceit.


The far North hound with legendary teeth

with spirit displayed upon sharpened fang

to administer a sudden sharp pang

leave a trail of bluish flame underneath.

The Southern hound ravenous for our lung

and nourish upon our withering pain

no witness to the brutal and insane

voracity of Hell Hound’s sharpened tongue.

The East and West are trained to do more harm

then the whispering of fallen angels

they come when air has cooled and we have sinned.

Their reddened eyes upon your soul disarm

then fall on you as dangerous strangers

and find yourself underneath slowly skinned.


Some dying Hyacinths on my bookshelf

do not hide black dog who roams in rubble

how did I find myself in this trouble

there is no escape or use of my wealth.

To notice that this beast is very strange

as its spiral around us grim and slows

a place in chest tightens as my fear grows

yet luckily I’m slightly out of range.

He snares us with a bond of future harm

as his spiral narrows around our feet

he beckons we should come and follow him.

His reddened eyes upon my soul disarm

I hang my head so our eyes will not meet

and fear my fate has become rather grim.


Why that is a Retriever sniffing around

as it pursues a master who is gone

so pure and innocent as passing fawn

to help him find the scent his nose to ground.

I see a Golden Retriever as said

who frets doggedly about our presence

whether the space we take makes any sense

or can we help find master so he’s fed.

Relief this dog is not a Hound of Hell

a dog, not ghost, who rolls over for pets,

oh look, he wags tail as I throw a stick.

My anxiety with story to tell

had carefully built stage with all the sets

to play with guilt that is layered thick.

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Jamie Lee Hamann
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Jamie Lee Hamann

My name is Jamie Lee Hamann and I have a passion for writing short fiction and poetry. I started writing for TCE around 2015 and since then I have finished seven collections of poetry and plans for more. I currently live in Lemmon Valley NV with my family. If you desire to find my other work on the internet feel free to stop by my website The website offers articles on poetry, poems, and links to all my other writing.

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