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The Traveler's Tale (Installment 8)
| Open Poetry #4 |
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The Traveler's Tale (Installment 8) |
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John Yaws Senior Member
since 1999-10-09
Posts 860Texas 
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I am a Watcher, grim and dread- I guard the bivouacs of the dead. The warriors bold in death do slumber- Unsung, alone, and without number. I watched as Rome grew from the mud- To span the mighty Tiber’s flood... When the known world by her was quelled Until by Romans she was felled. I saw the Legions march in rank- Through desert sands, and jungles dank- They bore their Eagles as they went, To rest in some barbaric tent. And Tamujin, and his great horde- No peace to Europe did afford... The Russian pograms, warlike Huns- But no respecter are the guns And Normandy, how sweet the breath- A morning laced with smell of death.. On Juno, Gold, and Utah beach- The warriors died just out of reach. Korea in the numbing cold- Where overnight, the young grew old- The fields were littered by the frozen On the hills beside the Chosin. Human waves, time after time- Oh, how the birds of war did dine. And as cold death did spread her pall- I watched, untouched, above it all. Vietnam, I rode there, too- The fall of France at Dien Bien Phu. America in her due time, Sent her sons, too; into the slime. The Watcher held a ringside seat, As soldiers quickly turned to...MEAT. I saw it all, to what avail? That I might tell the Traveler’s Tale. ------------------ Live large, people! ~GS~ http://www.geocities.com/montcogunslinger/HomePage.html |
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| © Copyright 1999 John R. Yaws - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Denise
Moderator
Member Seraphic
since 1999-08-22
Posts 22648 |
Very impressive piece of writing. Very well done! ------------------ Denise |
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