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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 11-June 00:05:44 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 144363
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => The Craven War
[time] => 2008-08-04 06:13:41
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Hair on head a fuzzy nettle; So far he does not concede. Ignominious bones may settle Upon the pleas to bleed. Bombs blast the lofty layer Of the sky’s maudlin intensity -- And whisper like a soothsayer Into windows menacingly slitty. Guns squeeze through to peek Via the barrels of their girth -- Some bouquets trying sleek, Their aims clumsy as clocks at birth -- Hands groping for sight, or score, Of all that is bellicose To prove the skill and gore Of long-range fearing close! He ducks below the clout Of gunfire raucous with glee And nurses the wounds without A venerable remedy. He laments the lack of gauze, And abundant shortages Lay out their heartfelt clause. He hides behind men like hedges, Waits to nonbelieve his seeping blood By way of eye-lined petrol Endowing sight of reddest flood, Permitting the take of toll. And if his homesick pain Should batter against heart valve, The need to sit and see his stain Will make up for any salve! Men of war have eyes That scan all without flinch -- And wade through personal demise Without receding an inch. And limping with sore heels, The bravado of those who enroll, He drops down and kneels As swiftly as a troll, Technique passed down from dead Demigods leaking blue Instead of contemptible red. War heroes now icy statue, He comprehends his beloved her Who knits so choppily in fear And dreams without censure -- Of bodily threats like gun or spear. A silencer has been attached Somewhere from here to her abode; A silver lock latched To preclude the bombs that explode -- Or maybe to contain the zeal Of her dangerous panicking heart, Which blurts out in its violent feel Of a distant rampart. She is the risk in this final blur Of shattering the program To unworthy steps, like signature No longer relevant to sham. He bows under bullets, craven, Smoke-clouds twisting in the sky Like an iridescent raven -- So exhaustingly high. Shading the still acrobats Is this sinister omen, Sparing parts like bones and hats -- As a sun will vanquish snowmen. [comments] => 0 [counter] => 177 [topic] => 57 [informant] => screwge [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 10 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => war )
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