deepundergroundpoetry.com
battle sarabande
soldiers march to battle, heroes fall
to be imparted on a memorial wall
rank & name
Sergeant Smith, Corporal James
we heard the mortars pop
the long night drags
to tally the body count
& guys in body bags
the stars go down in flames
the treetops dance
& heaven takes the blame
shoulda killed me when they had the chance
I walked Hoyne avenue
in braids & brass
trooper Feddeler they called me
Specialist 4th class
sirens chased my 69 Camaro
high on rockabilly radio
sinful debts I had to pay
spent the night with whores
to drink my dreams away
in this lonely place, this lonely hell
there are no stories left to tell
of tears & heartbreak I inspire
I’d scribble one more rhyme
& kiss her one more time
we write our goodbyes, then lay down in the pyre…
(Artist: Saul Leiter)
Published 31st Aug 2016
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 9
reading list entries 1
comments 5
reads 1311
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
31st Aug 2016 9:31pm
'in this lonely place, this lonely hell
there are no stories left to tell
of tears & heartbreak I inspire
I’d scribble one more rhyme
& kiss her one more time '
Such lonely places your words take us,
Unbelievably beautiful writing....
there are no stories left to tell
of tears & heartbreak I inspire
I’d scribble one more rhyme
& kiss her one more time '
Such lonely places your words take us,
Unbelievably beautiful writing....
31st Aug 2016 10:37pm
Sometimes madness is the only sane escape left to us; and we rise and arise again from our own inflicted sacrificial flame.
Hollow as a bullet John, yet it hit its mark straight on.
Hollow as a bullet John, yet it hit its mark straight on.
Anonymous
- Edited 1st Sep 2016 7:28am
1st Sep 2016 7:27am
that picture, speaks to me
her pose , her eyes, her lips
says so much, things she'll
never say.
your words burns thru her.
Sir, darling, babe
her pose , her eyes, her lips
says so much, things she'll
never say.
your words burns thru her.
Sir, darling, babe
1st Sep 2016 8:43am
John true horrors faced finding love and a warm place to lie your head at in the midst of it all is truly human..
so much to you dearest poet..
love Crim
so much to you dearest poet..
love Crim
19th Sep 2016 1:29pm
This is a very good free verse war poem, with a hint of confessional and a touch of ee cummings in the ampersands and colloquialisms. The last line is absolutely stunning and perfect, but then I've always enjoyed fire and witch-burning imagery. An alternative title for this piece could be "no stories left to tell", another good line. I must admit, I question the relevance of the woman to the piece, as it seems to be more about war than romantic love, but as I'm not the author and it doesn't damage the poem, I cannot question your need to anchor the tale with the woman. Thank you for the read. - Jack xxx
