Array ( [sid] => 163061 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Fight For The Morning [time] => 2010-11-05 14:58:57 [hometext] => My interpretation of how someone must have felt, laying in no man's land during World War I, waiting to be rescued. [bodytext] => Come folding mist
Hide me in a blanket of hope
That these scavengers of war do not find me
To succumb to the final cold steel of a general's reaper
I lay silent, abandoned to the whim of destiny's wheel
To be crushed under it and become the rubble of conflict
Or return, exalted, slayer of the minions of tyranny
Loyal disciple to the cause
I seek no immunity from tirade of bullets that hail down in our waking hours
Or the blast of shell that rips all bone and flesh
Prayers whispered for fading light, for this mud soaked nightmare to subside
That I may be reclaimed, sutured and redeployed
On the barren, undignified field of valor
Cold earth and empty eyes my companions in blood soaked pauses
Pierced by the wailing sirens of death
Red pools swelled with rainwater
Surround these pale, bloated corpses
Mere boys whose eyes shone with the birth of adventure
Now dulled with the fixed stare of a life used and spent.
Faint, childlike voices swim through the twilight
Pain calls my mind to surrender to sleep
For the family I left in the green fields of England
I will fight for the morning through the longest of nights [comments] => 5 [counter] => 358 [topic] => 57 [informant] => puppy_dog_eyes [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 20 [ratings] => 4 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => war ) Your Poetry Dot Com - Fight For The Morning


Fight For The Morning
Date: Friday, 5th November 2010 @ 02:58:57 PM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: puppy_dog_eyes
Come folding mist
Hide me in a blanket of hope
That these scavengers of war do not find me
To succumb to the final cold steel of a general's reaper
I lay silent, abandoned to the whim of destiny's wheel
To be crushed under it and become the rubble of conflict
Or return, exalted, slayer of the minions of tyranny
Loyal disciple to the cause
I seek no immunity from tirade of bullets that hail down in our waking hours
Or the blast of shell that rips all bone and flesh
Prayers whispered for fading light, for this mud soaked nightmare to subside
That I may be reclaimed, sutured and redeployed
On the barren, undignified field of valor
Cold earth and empty eyes my companions in blood soaked pauses
Pierced by the wailing sirens of death
Red pools swelled with rainwater
Surround these pale, bloated corpses
Mere boys whose eyes shone with the birth of adventure
Now dulled with the fixed stare of a life used and spent.
Faint, childlike voices swim through the twilight
Pain calls my mind to surrender to sleep
For the family I left in the green fields of England
I will fight for the morning through the longest of nights

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