Open Poetry #32 |
Somme. |
Goldenrose Member Elite
since 2003-05-30
Posts 3665 |
The fields are quiet now, ploughed land filled with corn and wheat. Birds sing in echoing sweetness. Wild flowers sway and bow, where once walked exhausted feet. Light of day, hues of colour of softness. Full packs carried in mud. Water, freezing, soaking. Air filled with bullets and sounds of thud, thud, thud. Vast numbers of men dying. Smell of death and decay, bodies littered all around. Razor sharp barbed wire, cuts in deep. Explosions in every direction, tearing huge holes in the ground. Waste of life, of love, of beauty, forever they will sleep. Mist, dark and murky, floats like spectres in the morning. Gostly woods, gloomily stood, echoing with mens cries. Blood curdling moans, mingling with machine gun fire, souls to heaven are soaring. Up through the smoke of gunfire, up to God in celestial skies. ''There is no need for temples, no need for complicated Philosophies. |
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© Copyright 2004 P.D - All Rights Reserved | |||
passing shadows Member Empyrean
since 1999-08-26
Posts 45577displaced |
awesome, traumatic...very good write. You are growing. |
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