A field of flowers
Rousing under remnants of the dawn:
Out there! from death, I rose
Above the silent many –
A distant will-o’-the-wisp
Reflecting under airs of minor ninths –
How rich the ambience they threw!
What theme of prosody
Had rendered me? –
Tho’ silent were its words:
A broken soul in pulsing pain –
Thou mustn’t guess what goes behind
The sick and ghostly screen of war!
In sallow-grey and other ashen hues,
Disrobed of warming flesh
That reassures the bones,
A twisted pose
Portrayed my physicality –
Not unlike the carcass of a prey;
But as a cloud of thought, I mused,
Collected in a life dispatched
In freely flowing blood,
Conferring crimson shades
Upon the arid lakes aflood
With glorious tides of nascent buds
And as we glowed in ruddy shades,
I asked: ‘What future lies ahead?
What terror trades? ’
A beautiful war poem written by Mark R Slaughter, simply love the imagery created to show us the horrendous face of war!