A poem about the Black Death and how it ravaged London

The Black Death
Entered into the Chester Literary Prize Award [2016]

Along the dirty dingy streets they scurry
Furry long tailed creatures
Bringing death to the land as they hurry
Snouts twitching sniffing along the way
Carrying a disease
The Black Death in on its way

Red crosses daubed on doors
The patter of tiny claws
People dropping like flies
A woman screams as her child dies
The tolling of the bell
In the city they now call…HELL
It seems there is no hope
For them all is lost
And still the bell tolls
‘Bring out your dead’ the cry

Cadaver eyes stare from a scab ridden head
And another body drops down dead
Then another falls, and then and another

The rats begin to feed unaware
That they are dying too
But they don’t care, yellow teeth gnaw and rip
Beady eyes stare as fleas
Leap and jump from their bristly hair
And still the bell tolls
‘Bring out your dead’ the cry

Wheels’ now creaking as the wagon gets heavier
Horse pulling its hardest foaming at the bit
Painfully swishing its tail
Trying to rid the fleas off its back
But too frail

‘Come on misses he’s dead, throw him on.’ the cry

A look of despair as the small body
Is tossed on top of more
Passing houses, red crosses on their doors
And still the bell tolls
A child lies screaming as rats begin gnawing
Biting-ripping blood streaming
Sweet death approaches like a long black cloak
Eyes now glazed, ashen white face
Death kisses the child
Takes her to a peaceful place

A man screams
As the wagon rolls over his back
Crushing-grinding-smashing
A broken bloodied pulp
The end of this rich’s man’s dreams

And still the bell tolls
Turning-twisting bodies in death’s final dance
No one had a chance
As The Black Death knocked at their doors
Along with the patter of tiny claws
How many more to die
Is the pleading cry

Tears streaming from bloodshot eyes
Makeshift bandages trying to cover
Scabs and disease
From prying Black Death fleas
And still the bell tolls

On and on it marched taking hundreds with it
Thousands upon thousands
Until it covered London
Every little bit
AND STILL THE BELL TOLLS