the wind whispers to you in furious ways,
ominous notes, like a dusty violin
stenciling finality into the air.
the percussion
of foot-soldiers trembles the grass.
you have grown, my war-child,
from the days of napalm tea parties
to a diva guerrilla,
terrible and well-rehearsed,
your bulleted libretto close to your chest--
and as trumpets sound in the offing,
the curtain draws back.
AK-47, pizzicato--
gasoline breeds fire, incinerates woodwinds,
the wine of the coloratura soprano
melts into blood.
witch, bitch, daughter of gunpowder,
bella contralto, your
deep and tremulous vibrato is a
grenade,
and as death crashes to a crescendo,
mortality in the tin frequency of cymbals--
the only armistice
is annihilation.
Author notes
With a nod to Jethro Tull.
"O Lord our God, help us tear their soldiers to bloody shreds with our shells; help us to cover their smiling fields with the pale forms of their patriot dead; help us to drown the thunder of the guns with the shrieks of their wounded, writhing in pain; help us to lay waste their humble homes with a hurricane of fire; help us to wring the hearts of their unoffending widows with unavailing grief; help us to turn them out roofless with their little children to wander unfriended the wastes of their desolated land in rags and hunger and thirst, sports of the sun flames of summer and the icy winds of winter, broken in spirit, worn with travail, imploring Thee for the refuge of the grave and denied it."
--Mark Twain, "The War Prayer"
A contest entry
- [untitled] by Grey.
4500 points, ended February 28, 5 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
rip it
Comments
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I have to say, this was a complete surprise and a dark horse for a trophy.
Like the other nominees, I greatly appreciate the fact that you did not write this based on any perceived prompts. You wrote what you wanted to, and I salute you for it. It was darkly witty and poignant, and your use of music terminology in conjunction with images of war was an inspired touch.
The formatting was simple, but elegant, and drew attention in a pleasant fashion to certain parts. The language used was intelligent and displayed particularly good taste in regards to the flow and cadence of each line. I very much enjoyed the indented portions; however the use of "witch, bitch" gave the line an earthiness that contrasted with the very surreal quality that permeated the rest of the poem. The rhyme between them also seemed slightly jarring to me. Nonetheless, they are in fact the only fault I find with this thoughtful and provocative piece.
Thank you for entering, and I invite you to return next year.
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Thanks for the thoughtful comment & the trophy
I went back and forth on that "witch, bitch" bit... like you, I wasn't sure if it quite fit... but in the end, I just wanted to make that little reference. There's a joke among opera singers that contraltos only sing "witches, bitches, and britches," as protagonist parts are usually written for sopranos. Who better than a contralto witch-bitch to sing a warrior?
At any rate, I'm glad you enjoyed it as much as you did. I'll be sure to come around next time.
Elizabeth
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