In The Green Zone, or perhaps Iraq,
the warriors have all turned to clay.
Streets are littered with them.
Strewn about here and there,
statues, monuments to war’s bitter days.
The tanks and guns stand still,
quiet, with a pallid angst, at attention,
frozen like disobedient children,
the streets long silent of such mischief.
Green gunk grows underneath their feet
and through the cracking foundation.
Sand pelts all the useless street lamps
and surrenders only to the wind.
The sun leaves boot prints as it searches,
down the alleyways, lighting up the edges,
windows to paint in bright and new beliefs.
Someday the statues will topple over...
freed of their tall shadows.
the warriors have all turned to clay.
Streets are littered with them.
Strewn about here and there,
statues, monuments to war’s bitter days.
The tanks and guns stand still,
quiet, with a pallid angst, at attention,
frozen like disobedient children,
the streets long silent of such mischief.
Green gunk grows underneath their feet
and through the cracking foundation.
Sand pelts all the useless street lamps
and surrenders only to the wind.
The sun leaves boot prints as it searches,
down the alleyways, lighting up the edges,
windows to paint in bright and new beliefs.
Someday the statues will topple over...
freed of their tall shadows.
© 2008 mrp/thepoetryman
The blood of war hardens into the marble monuments that inspire a younger generation to repeat the madness as the memory of the last outbreak of madness bursts into a glorious dawn that paints the sky red.
ReplyDeleteWell done, Sir Poet. :)
ReplyDeletePoetry is such a powerful method of art and communication. Often poems, like the lyrics of a song that touches one's feelings, is remembered long after plain script is forgotten.
Thank you.
I'm no poet, but I have tried. :D
I know you've read Ablogination, so if you haven't found THIS
yet it's about as good as I can do.
I'll enjoy reading your's though. ;)
Regards,
captainkona
Wow. Beautiful brother.
ReplyDelete