When the Battle was Won

A traditional poem I wrote for a contest someone recently posted on Writerscafe.

O captain! My captain!

My mind echoes with the sound

Of men crying as they scream wounded

With blood staining the bruised ground.

That I too will part is my fear

For the worlds light is dim

And I can see it coming- my death is near!

 

O land! My land!

How I have fought for you

From the hours of night until

The rise of morning dew.

Your blades of grass so sweet

And soft as I begin eternal sleep,

Gazing at the sky I fade underneath.

 

O soldiers! My soldiers!

What a battle we have won

And how brave your eyes shine as

We say goodbye underneath a setting sun.

Death pours from this strained slash

And I say farewell to memories,

Watching littered corpses turn to ash.

 

O woman! My woman!

For you I give the final beats of my heart

Your eyes illuminate the dark of my mind

With memories of the touch of your body’s art.

My fingers lift and reach across the sky,

For in its air I know you lie and wait with faith

While the fire of my life flickers as I die.

Reviews

[N. Hadley]

Creative. Sometimes recycling is more creative than coming up with something completely original.

[Zeek4]

Wonderful piece of writing. It reminds me of some of the romantic English poets. I hope you got first placed in the contest.

[Cyrano]

If only a soldier's death was truly this peaceful, maybe war wouldnt be as horrid

[Mauricio Montoya]

You’ve made many good comments about my work but I don’t think I could put something together so enriched with emotion as you did. I read each stanza and it makes me stop and think before I continue, I mean wow! Excellent write.

[Revolutionary]

She will have to live forever without her poetic man of the sea.Torn between two loves . I love this poem and it makes me picture the lassy standing on the shore.She knows of her captains death,but she prays fro her first mate to return

[William Maisonave]

I appreciated this piece, extremely creative

[Coyote Poetry]

You did a outstanding job with words from the title of Walter Whitman poem. You made a modern poem with strength and realness of our times. War steal from country, Soldiers and woman. Our children always pay for our hate. A outstanding poem. Thank you.
Coyote