If bones could write,
Oh, how coffins
would rattle in despair,
Arlington would be
a cacophony of calcium,
rapping out in re-morse code
the pain of dying so young.
Like Micheal's bones
cast like a meteor
from his unfulfilled dreams
lying dormant in the wreckage
for twenty-eight years,
more time then he had lived.
Each tenderly dug out
boxed with reverence
cradled in a flag
and brought home.
Oh,how his spirit
must have ached
for the soil of his birth,
from that stench
of vegetating matter,
in the spoils of Cambodia,
after a forbidden incursion,
that took his very soul.
What poetry his
bones could write,
what utter despair,
penned in ashes, blood
and heroism long forgotten,
Songs that his lips
will never sing still echo
in the hearts of
those who loved him,
and somewhere his
guitar still waits
its sound hole
a fixed scream,
of silence for
far too long.
A contest entry
- O is for O'Donnell - Capt. Michael D. O'Donnell KIA Cambodia 24 March 1970 by just mercedes.
900 points, ended May 10, 2008, 6 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
Thank you for this great response to the prompt. Your poem contains sad imagery, of the words that bones speak, and regret for the waste of young lives. Most powerful for me were /somewhere his guitar still waits, its sound hole a fixed scream/. That image is haunting. I like /boxed with reverence, cradled in a flag/. You have treated a difficult subject with passion, anger and heart. This is a fitting tribute to this man, and all who died in any war.
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