Ere the cannons look up 'cross the yet untrod field,
and give warning to those on the far other side,
and commanders give shrieks for all weapons to wield,
their report thunders high with them now blaring wide.
Thence the fury of war is in now full array,
and the drums now resume in resounding accord,
and the toil of the warriors as they spar all the day
seems a loss at the end of that Day of the Sword.
For e'en if a great Victor arose from the gloom
and to them went the spoils of their enemy's wares;
still a bittersweet taste-- Victory out of Doom!
Even worse-- that their people thence give them dark stares?
And the soldier looks up in the midst of the fray
and he cries to the heavens for some Will to give end,
that his misery could then by that heal that day,
though the wounds of his heart will take longer to mend.
And the Angel of Death looks at him with remorse
with the dead of the battle now borne on his wings,
but no word will he speak; no plaintive discourse;
only sad melody as he mournfully sings.
As on Titan doth fall and retreats from the throng,
it is thought that grim silence is brought to the ears,
but the groans of the dying still play deep and long,
intermingled with cascades of dark blood and tears.
When all wounds have ben cleansed and the damage surveyed,
from the generals comes deep relief that the loss
was not greater than these, with the battle belayed,
though the soldiers still cry in their hearts at the cost.
It was many a year since the hero had home;
many a year since a chirp or a cheer
has been called from the ramparts by those left at home,
for they now give instead only anger and jeers.
No parade or a smile is now giv'n for these,
for the people are told they are savages now,
that they violate all in their path as they please,
that the words "Guilty One" are inscribed on their brow.
And the angels still frown, though not at the despair
of the anguish of war or her children called Fear;
Nay; they see our unthanks and upon us they glare,
as down from their eyes rain the purest of tears.
-Arëbyl
Author notes
As much as I despise war, I am disgusted with the way the news treats soldiers, treating them like savages and rapists and barbarous murderers. I hate how they are treated like they are all a bunch of freakishly violent idiots who only care about killing people and violating women. I would like to think also, then, that the angels who bore them away on their mighty wings would with the same plaintive mourning weep at their treatment as I do now.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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"and he cris to the heavens for some Will to give end," -> cries?
"It was many a year since the hero had home;
many a year since a chirp or a cheer
has been called from the ramparts by those left at home,
for they now give instead only anger and jeers." -> You use the same word twice in a stanza, and both at the end of a line. Careful with that.
Wonderful personification. I've always loved that, with Fear and Victory and so forth. The last stanza is positively beautiful. You were always a wonderful poet. :- -
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Amber?
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A-FRIGGIN-MEN! Gosh my bro was a soldier, you know that, and nothing pisses me off more than for people to say that about him. He never killed anyone or raped anyone. Instead he played soccer with the kids, and helped protect them. Great poem! Loved every second! -Liz
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Hi Dan
We send them to do the killing for us, then disavow any knowledge of the deed, like mission impossible.
Guess it was to be expected.
V4L2 cris + another in verses subsequent but lost it!
Good one Dan,good to remember them this way. I hope they are remembered as well when they come home.
John
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