Trumpets drown at the flare of the guns,
Courage falls to the trench under the finish line.
Camaflauge eyes look upon us and shun.
Bread crust scatters as I reach in to dine.
Failing commandors spit out blood and brave words,
Loading their guns for the worst.
A sorrowful prayer is hummed by the birds,
Feathers sollen and ready to burst.
Unfortunate destiny mourned our soldiers' lids,
I turned one's face flat to the mud,
As to not see the knarled flesh grids.
Soulless, his body flops with a 'thud'.
I steal his ammunition,
Ready to massacre more men,
Who's homes reak of child's somber,
Wondering where has Daddy been?
Widow's frozen tears spill over us,
Turning skin from peach to blue.
Frost bitten limbs drop off,
Wishing to be mended with glue.
I can't prevent my weapon from firing,
The blasting drags us through the night.
Into the dawn, rotted bodys expiring,
Still see my target through firefly light.
With the rising sun never pardoning me
And I standing or kneeling clenched to the dirt,
Praying, sweet Lord that I may never be falling,
Lieing nurseless and senseless barring the hurt.
Author notes
Written May 7th, 2004
A contest entry
- The Sketches of War by Chuck Johnson.
300 points, ended August 28, 2004, 13 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
-
This is a very passionate poem, and full of powerful imagery.
I was a little distracted by a few uneven lines. As you know, with rhyming poems, the syllable count from line to line should be roughly the same. There were a few misspellings, too -
Camouflage
Commanders
Gnarled
Reek
Is that supposed to be "Feathers SWOLLEN and ready to burst"?
"Whose (not who's) homes reak (reek) of child's somber" (Also, I'm not sure what "somber" means in this line. Somber means serious. Doesn't seem to make sense in this context.)
"Into the dawn, rotted bodies (not body's) expiring."
"Lying (not lieing) nurseless and senseless barring the hurt."
I hope you don't mind the nitpicks. I hope they help. With a little tightening up, I think this could be an even better poem.
Thanks,
Mark -
Suffering is the commonplace in war. Its the daily breath of its horrors. Your poem displays that horror in words chosen carefully and with much thought. That effort should be recognized. Thanks so much for entering the contest.
-
I am so thankful that I do not have to judge this contest. It has taken me days and days to read through these. I am so fascinated and yet sickened by the sights, the sounds and the images that all these wonderfully written words have created. You have done really well on this. Good luck in the contest.
Adding your comment:
2 old applause
