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Open Poetry #48
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icebox
Member Elite
since 2003-05-03
Posts 4383
in the shadows

0 posted 2013-09-11 10:58 AM




Still, I hear the pipes sing
Amazing Grace
I hear them in my dreams
I hear the screams
every day,
months of cadenced march
out of an open pit mine of souls,
all day long
and through the night
in and out of mind
until my heart ran out of song.

Today bells ring,
performers sing
and everybody's priests
ask gods for treats.

Each name a moment held
in all solemnity
on edge
to slip into eternity;
pomp and circumstance,
a ceremony's tears and choking
fears that this will mean an end
to the beginning of the years
we mark remembering the dead,
living dead
names all run together,
labels on one giant
blended bleeding soul.

If one more plastic politician says,
‘Let's roll,'
I think I will be sick.
The dead can sleep,
where is peace for heart and soul
that could bring quiet to the living?

We mourned a year.
We buried buttons and a watch,
a rock,
handfuls of dirt and ash,
a shoe
or two,
some bone fragments,
photographs in empty caskets,
memories in sleepless nights
full of empty arms and empty beds
tears in empty hearts.
It's time to leave the past.

For some,
we became as Death
in a time to stalk revenge
cold and crafted with precision
in deserts,
fields and mountains,
where we are hated for existing,
where gods are left with questions,
where evil breeds in men,
where each victory brings two graves
and politicians bend the world
back into their greed.
So, the need,
there are no answers
and so, the killings never end.

There is no grief beyond the love
of that which death can steal.

There is no deal to make,
no memorial to shake the monstrous memories,
smell,
taste
of human flesh and blood in ashes mixed with fuel
melted steel
vaporized concrete,
grit that clogged our eyes
a blessing in disguise;
shame
of hoping winds would change,
the dream's there every day,turn back and turn away
run,
no where to go,
who died
when there is nothing left
to hold
but memories' deadly clouds
thick choking terror
floating wild in toxic air,
horror grown so full
that vision's lost,
sounds of bodies hitting ground
just beyond the reach of sight
within the sounds,
quick claws of fright,
no where to hide.
No where to hide.

©2003, 2005, 2006, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013 by icebox
(written, September 11, 2002; edited as above)

© Copyright 2013 icebox - All Rights Reserved
Martie
Moderator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-09-21
Posts 28049
California
1 posted 2013-09-11 12:02 PM


As always, appreciated xoxoxo
icebox
Member Elite
since 2003-05-03
Posts 4383
in the shadows
2 posted 2013-09-11 12:40 PM


Thank you for reading!!!

c.

s1nfully_1nn0c3nt
Senior Member
since 2003-10-26
Posts 1105
Watertown, NY
3 posted 2013-09-11 12:52 PM


"There is no grief beyond the love
of that which death can steal. "

Those lines are haunting.
Thanks for sharing.

-Trina
I'll keep these dreams hidden
inside these eyes of mine
until my tears fall
unto my tainted hear

JerryPat2
Member Laureate
since 2011-02-06
Posts 16975
South Louisiana
4 posted 2013-09-11 01:43 PM


You have captured the essence of war. I maintain there is a need for war at certain times, but sometime the wars we fight are less than needed. Your gritty poetry should be read each morning when they call the two sections of Congress to order. I was too young for the Second World War and too old for Vietnam. I used to think I had missed out on fighting for liberty, but I have changed my mind. Although I used to say different, I think going to war in Vietnam was a very stupid decision. Thank you for posting this today, of all days.

~*~ If they give you lined paper write sideways. ~*~

Michael
Moderator
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-08-13
Posts 7666
California
5 posted 2013-09-11 05:15 PM


A beautiful rendering.  It's almost shameful how time can numb those of us who didn't first hand lose someone that dark day to the complete grief and horror we all witnessed... for we all lost something, even though the majority of us have stood absolutely still since then, content to let the pain and passion bleed away one lousy red drop at a time.  Excellent writing here, hopefully helping us to never forget.

Michael

Lori Grosser Rhoden
Member Patricius
since 2009-10-10
Posts 10202
Fair to middlin' of nowhere
6 posted 2013-09-11 06:54 PM


Amen and Amen


Lori

wranx
Member Elite
since 2002-06-07
Posts 3689
Moved from a shack to a barn
7 posted 2013-09-15 10:54 PM


Odd that it was 9/11 that started me writing.

Its true that it was never something I'd considered doing

This, though, says much of what I wanted to say better than I could say it

ebonygirl
Member Elite
since 2011-07-14
Posts 2000
California U.S.A
8 posted 2013-09-16 01:38 AM


Because of poetry such as yours, we will always remember "that day".
Thank you ,
E

Marchmadness
Member Rara Avis
since 2007-09-16
Posts 9271
So. El Monte, California
9 posted 2013-09-16 02:29 AM


Beethoven was so right when he said "A great
poet is the most precious jewel of a nation."
You have told our 9/11 story better than the news media ever could.
                                 Ida

nakdthoughts
Member Laureate
since 2000-10-29
Posts 19200
Between the Lines
10 posted 2013-09-16 09:34 AM


Being the wife  of a Viet-Nam  veteran for over 43 years, the scars of war show up in many ways...some yet for me to know.

This touches the soul and will forever be words that could not be said better.

M

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