Dirk waited until the dogs had made their last sniffing foray and came back eager and empty to the prize of warm bird meat on the bank before he pulled the trigger again.

Randy stared at him uncomprehendingly, and Dirk put an end to it with another shot. Unfortunate hunting accident. It happens.

The percussions echoed lke ripples on water and left his ringing ears with more than silence - with a hollow well of deafness.

Randy lay crumpled in the slop, seeping red ooze into the mud. The dogs were going crazy, barking and sniffing at Randy, waiting for their cue.

That'll teach you, Pal, Dirk thought, after the bad blood between us, to go out alone in the swamp with a guy with a grudge and a shot gun.

Dirk lit another smoke and pulled it in, taking his time before fishing out his phone. No hurry. He was in no hurry to face all that was to come - the law, then comforting Randy's grieving wife, and in fact, his own.

I wonder if you were to change the names if there would be any similarity between your awesome poem and Dickless Chaneys wild adventures in hunting the Texas wilderness.

by the way, very descriptive poetry, I could see it unfold in mind, thats when I know a poem is good and yours is very good. thanks