Ditch the ads, upload images and much more - upgrade today from 5.95/month!
Read • Contests • Groups • Learn • Forums • Store • Help
 

Victory.

Missing image


Your face
painted by light touches
from delicate fingers,
used to play “Mikado”
and to bring victories
from disorder.

Silenced words
on silver tongues
so remote from
the war we praised
ourselves
to have won,

memories of
red patches
on yellow fields
wonder of why

bread was never pink.





......

A contest entry

Please tell me what you think

    : , Your review:

    Comment Suggestion: What is your your first impression?
    • Line numbers  • Invite them to read
    : no Cost: 0 free left 0 points, You have (?)

Comments


  • Cupcrazy gold member
    November 19, 2008

    Edit | Reply
    This is poetically a beautiful piece, I loved the singular sense of loss that you were able to project. There is a duality to war, there is the joy of winning and the agony of defeat, as well as the sobering effect of all the loss, no matter the outcome. For does anyone truly ever win in war, or is it only the glory we hail to assuage the emotion of the human loss that is so hard for us to endure. Thank you for this beautiful entry. Hugs, Bunny


    • Starswhispers silver member
      November 28, 2008
      Edit | Reply
      Thank you so much for the HM I apologise for this late thank you due to family difficuties... illness .... I had not logged-in for nearly 10 days.
      Thank you again so much as this little poem means a lot to me.

  • ea silver member
    November 7, 2008

    Edit | Reply
    hmmm. seems a provocative write for Remembrance or Veteran's day which is coming up. I hope you can find a contest for it where it will be appreciated.

    • Starswhispers silver member
      November 7, 2008
      Edit | Reply
      Yes in a way it is but I do not want it to be provocative a such I think there is always a duality of feeling in war what ever side people may be in. My grand father was severely wounded in the Somme then after recovering sent to the front again where he was gased in Verdun and unable to work like before ever again. He died age 68 of lung cancer I was 10, he fought bravely and earned the "military medal and the honour cross" (medaille militaire et croix d'honneur) my memory of him: his blue eyes his moustache his poor health with constant breathing difficulties and an amazing kindness.
      The duality is that i felt he was so brave but his life was wasted of course he had no choice and living in eastern France the choice would have been obvious I suppose. I never remember him without tears in my eyes he died at an age when I thought that nobody I loved could possibly die (strangely enough he was called James). I wrote two poems about him:
      http://allpoetry.com/poem/3495682
      http://allpoetry.com/poem/3355356