lördag 24 januari 2009

The Past Soldier

Sound of laughter, ticking clocks
Smell of paint, touch of rocks
danger of liqour, image of death
sense of tears, feeling of wreath

No number to call, no address to send
someone for whom I used to tend
Add the flavour of Shakespeare and drama
mix it with the daily life of family trauma
and blend the subtle idea of sarcasm and humour
let for a minute death be merely a rumour.
Let us sing, play, enjoy, and hold my hand once more
kiss away the tears and let my eyes no longer be sore

The proud soldier rises to say goodbye
and how I wish that death was a lie

4 kommentarer:

void sa...

Mäktigt. Jag gillade den.

Alex sa...

That was really good, love the message and love the language =) mäktigt som sagt

Lucidor sa...

Oi, a new face around here! How nice.

For some reason this poem provokes pictures of Victorian England to me. Do not ask me why. Regardless of my feelings for Victorian England, I like this one; it's a classical motif, and you capture it nicely.

Meng sa...

There are some wonderful lines you've got here.
"Add the flavour of Shakespeare and drama
mix it with the daily life of family trauma" :D
Nice to see new people posting, yay!