Do not speak to him of love,
The warm guitar-note kisses of a night
Tangling the smoke and star-dust in confusion…
(“I once have loved, swan-rush of sudden music
In ragged autumn sunlight and steel skies…”
But that was in another country
And the girl is dead.)
Do not speak to him of fear,
The cold leukaemia of a waning soul
Hammering heart against the caging ribs…
(“For I once knew wild panic in the blood
All soul sang free, my hope blazed to the skies”…
But that was in another country
And the cause is dead.)
Do not speak to him of life,
Petitions against universal death,
Cold respite won, however rash the price…
(“I once dreamed peace ,children and dusty cornfields
Free singing to no alien-clouded skies…”
But that was in another country
And the land is dead.)
Do not speak of seed and blood,
Doomed procreation, crossed and tangled limbs,
The future cradled in a crippled womb…
(“The tanks came where the women stood in line
For bread – and sudden gunfire rocked the skies…”
But that was in another country
And they all are dead.)
Do not speak to him of hope,
The triumph of just causes, wild acclaim,
New treaties signed, peace, pact, or what you will…
(“I too once fought, I too once knew the fire
To snatch reluctant freedom from the skies…”
But that was in another country
And the heart is dead.)
A contest entry
- Poetic War by FullyAlive.
300 points, ended July 5, 2006, 10 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - LETS REMEMBER OUR VETERANS! by PureCountry.
525 points, ended November 11, 2007, 16 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Invite For... Silver winners Judged by RedwingSpirit.
475 points, ended April 4, 2008, 17 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Your Absolute Best Prewrite by Heavens Child.
800 points, ended April 25, 2008, 48 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - A soldiers plea.... by c staff sgt smirfet.
300 points, ended June 8, 2008, 10 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - The Truth About War by BlackSwan.
550 points, ended May 28, 2008, 15 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - prewrites by aeolia.
400 points, ended October 26, 2008, 130 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Your Best Three Pre-writes by piccola.
800 points, ended November 27, 2008, 140 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Your All Time Best by Night Terrors.
400 points, ended May 22, 33 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please do not feel obliged to comment on this poem - but if you do so, please understand that it may be some time before I reply.
Comments
1 - 14 of 14
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Of all things about the poem what I like the most is the strong imagery of course but the use of repetition which strengthens it even more. thank you for entering
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many things are dead during and after war...the destruction and tragedy of war brought out with powerful words...congrats on the trophy
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This poem was unbelievable! I LOVED the quotations incorporation and, my goodness the imagery.
Such incredible lines that read deep into the mind of the veteran...
"The future cradled in a crippled womb", "Free singing to no alien-clouded skies", "The cold leukemia of a waning soul".
Not to mention how you closed up every stanza in a similar fashion. That everything postwar is in fact.. dead.
Imagery is outstanding. Great write
-Thank you for your entry, Angi Terese -
nicely written
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A true display of poetic talent. Your writing style brings power to the words and deepens their impact. Thank you for your entry.
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Vera Rich
Ok sorry about that. This was a woderful poem Thank you for entering. Good luck in the judging.
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amen
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I liked this. It is very well written.
thanks for entering =] good luck in my contest
-x- -
Vera, I think you should have audio with this, it would show the audiences the true effect of the tragedies, hope you consider it..thanks
Linda -
Edén Pastora Gómez's remark, "The first thing we revolutionaries lose is our wives. The last thing we lose is our lives. In between our women and our lives, we lose our freedom, our happiness, and our means of living," comes to mind when I read this. In a world where ideals usually lose out to expediencies or so called realities, there's no shortage of dreamers crushed amidst their dreams nor innocent victims of the conflict.
What sets excellent poetry above the rest is that it captures reality. It begins with a real sentiment and through exceptional technique and skill fine poetry conveys an emotional experience to the reader. Likely it can only elicit feelings that the reader has already experienced, but due to the commonality of the human condition, a certain universal appeal or understanding is achieved among those who know. This is such a poem, one that captures the essence of a particular reality. It is indeed striking.
Peace always,
~RJ~
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Dear Vera,
What struck me first about this piece is, you took me, and many other readers I can imagine, by the scruff of our necks and really made us try to understand what it is that we were reading.A trait inherent in good teachers.LOL
I work at a large hotel here in Las Vegas, and the Executive Chef is an emigre of Hungry. I know he was there during the war through stories that were passed around. He fought for the Resistance and immigrated to the US later on.
I was going through some of your poems and decided to pick one that was not made for contest, but when I saw the title, I had to see, because of your treatment of your subjects. Needless to say I was not disappointed, Vera!
These things are sad, but with their writing, it will be more difficult to relegate to vaguery.
So glad I read this.
Be well.
Fond Regards,
John
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I think it is good, yeah...
Thanks for entering -
To Chilliwoman:
Nowadays, I suppose they would call it "post traumatic stess" (but that term was only introduced into psychiatric discourse in 1983).
The particular "trauma" behind this poem was the Hungarian uprising of 1956 - which was for many of my age-cohort the definitive event that shook us from adolescence into maturity. But it could, of course, apply to any kind of battle-shock that leaves a young man stunned and broken in mind...
Much is made about those who die in battle... and indeed about the war-crippled, blinded etc... We see them there, every year, parading past the Cenotaph in their wheel-chairs and with their white sticks and guide-dogs... But the others, those crippled in their psyche, still trapped in their thoughts in the battle situation - they do not - cannot- take part in the parades... They are so easily forgotten - and yet, their sacrifice was, perhaps, far greater than a physical injury.
There is so much poetry about "dulce et decorum est pro patria mori"... so much about the honour to be paid to those who die in battle, and so little about those who sacrifice not their physical lives but their psyche... One of the very few pieces I know that touch on this is the Ukrainian national anthem, which contains the lines (in translation) "Soul and body we will sacrifice/ That freedom be defended" - which, with its emphasis on "soul" (which comes first) is really remarkable, since it was written in the 19th century, when the psychological effects of war were largely ignored (even "shell-shock" was a "discovery" of World War I).
But I am rambling on when I ought to be working...
Anyway, thank you so much for your comment...
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Although this was written 45 years ago, it may just as well have been yesterday. I loved the reiteration. It left me with a rather doomed feeling that we just repeat all the hardships and wars, personal and global, and we always will. Until we are all dead.
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