Every year on November eleventh
I take my Granddad to the field
I listen while he tells me stories of the past
Stories that are from his heart
I hold his hand while he remembers
Exactly where his best friend died
He says he remembers sending the telegram
To his best friend’s wife
He shows me where he was
When he first killed a man
Then he tells me how he hates the look
That’s always in their eyes
He tells me how he felt
Fighting for his country
He tells me that he’s glad it’s over,
That peace has finally come
Then he turns and looks at me
And tells me how,
As tears sparkle in his eye,
That I was worth the fight
A contest entry
- Sorrow to Hope by Jake.
300 points, ended April 13, 2004, 31 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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8/10
Quite a thinker and mover you have here.
"I listen while he tells me stories of the past"
This was a minor quirk. Perhaps it would be better as two lines? Still, it is rather good as it is...but maybe it would sound better that way.
"Stories that are from his heart"
Here, maybe "Stories" would sound better as "Those"?
Simply suggestions. It is otherwise fine as is.
Overall, this piece was quite well written, and it wasn't on something I've read millions of time. The ending was emotionally strong. Keep writing. -
i agree this is amazing. it tells sum boom shank story and takes u through a range of emotions. good job
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Really an amazing last line...I mean, the rest is great, too, but it all lead up to that last thing that really justified the poem.
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Yeah me too... Really good job.
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Nice one, you gave me chills.
***Strangeangel***
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