The pulse starts to racing
as adrenalin surges.
Sweaty palms grip weapons
as fear mingles with anticipation.
We know what we're doing
is fighting for lost causes,
with better paths to pursue.
But it's like a hurricane has reached the shores
and we all flock to watch the storm.
We can't help but get all riled up,
as chaos grips us in a firm embrace.
Adrenalin surges through veins
and we spill blood
and cause others pains.
We take the lives of mothers and fathers
sons
and daughters.
Craters are left behind where flowers once grew,
honestly it makes no sense
as if our brains get turned to stew.
Fighting for causes we forget
at hearing the first gunshot,
from then on out it's a dance with the devil.
Man needs enemies for him to focus on,
it is in them that he injects his darkest fears.
Truthfully I cannot say, why we always go to war.
It just seems to me that
we're all addicted to chaos.
A contest entry
- It is well that war is so terrible... by Peripatetic.
3000 points, ended October 12, 14 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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This poem embraces the challenge to discover the seemingly innate human motivation to go to war. The poet speaks from the point of view of the foot soldier who feels and is compelled by the adrenalin rush for all that his reasoning mind comprehends the true nature and futility of what is about to occur. The poem concludes that we are apparently addicted to chaos, but this conclusion is reached in the context set up by the first two stanzas. We thrill to war for its rush however senseless it is comprehended to be.
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Thank you for the in depth critique, I happened to glance at the other entries to this contest and noticed you have a knack for exposing the poets intent with interpretation. I'll look forward to looking for other contests from you to enter in the future.
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My comments are nearly always based on my emotional or intellectual reaction to a poem. When my impressions mirror well the poet's intentions, it is one of those fine moments for which we all hope when posting our poems and comments.
If a comment of mine conveys an impression not expected by a writer, I hope there in no offense taken. Some comments left by others on my poems have allowed me to see my work in ways I had not considered at the time of writing. Posting our thoughts for the consideration of others means accepting that prospects from the minds of others may yield perspectives and perceptions very different from our own. This should make us brave enough to speak our minds and humble enough to listen to others.
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