They stalk through dew-kissed grass
Looking for lost causes
Midst the muted cannon's roar
Their charred limbs clutch the reeds
Unable to break them again,
For the fields have begun
to bear fruit once more.
While the angry spirits attempt their destruction in haste
The physical world shouts to them,
"Go back to your graves."
The earth is eager to swallow their momentary bodies
and to the refreshed soil
they all taste the same.
the following was written for Jingle's Poetry Potluck.
8 comments:
I like this! They all taste the same; what a great line!
insightful words, beautiful poetry,
Glad to see you back,
have fun in the potluck.
What a haunting poem! It evoked images of torn soldiers amidst futile efforts to measure their ultimate sacrifice. Perhaps one day, we'll learn to not feed the earth in this way.
Spirits with repeated visitation, looking for answers. A hauntingly beautiful poem indeed.
Wonderful!
I was particularly struck by 'momentary bodies'.
It beautifully portrayed the blood soaked arrogance of the transience and evanescence of human existence. these yester year warriors are too vaporous to even clutch a reed today. Bravo! Amazing poetry...
well written, beautiful :)
masterful ..
you are such a talent.
Hello,
Hope all is well.
Appreciated your support to Jingle Poetry Community, your inputs add light to our place, we would love to see you around weekly…
Welcome sharing your talent in our new garden home.
Random piece or old ones are welcome too.
Bless you.
Happy End of August.
Hope to see you share today.
xoxox
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