Monday, July 25, 2011

A Crime Against Nature

Ghosts of amputees march silently on this hallowed land
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:

Marbles in My Pocket said...

I like this! They all taste the same; what a great line!

Jingle said...

insightful words, beautiful poetry,
Glad to see you back,
have fun in the potluck.

PhotoDiction said...

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.

Helena said...

Spirits with repeated visitation, looking for answers. A hauntingly beautiful poem indeed.

Rosemary Nissen-Wade said...

Wonderful!

I was particularly struck by 'momentary bodies'.

Hazel said...

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...

Anonymous said...

well written, beautiful :)

Jingle Poetry At Olive Garden said...

masterful ..

you are such a talent.


Hello,

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