Tuesday, April 20, 2010

The Art of War

an actor's violent act
scripted in a blink
the sculpture holds, bleeding
salients salient; perceptive; aware
as its audience slumbers
until nightmares invade sleep
and penetrate lifetimes

poets without war
lack blood for ink
images in mind, mind's eye
no longer recognize those in hand
songs on a radio
a thousand miles away
scream in memory

a hero's welcome
after a friend's goodbye
tell his mother he loved her
and be thanked for it; reluctant
watch the badge fade in color
its honor misplaced, lost
for those deserving are already buried

*For Tom, Dave, Glen, and everyone else who now only reside in memory...

9 comments:

Brian Miller said...

that last stanza ia heavy...never forgotten..

Subby said...

You got that spot on in the last line...alas the recognition is to late...

Kate Hanley said...

I love the juxtaposition of the actor, poet and hero/soldier. Nicely done.

PattiKen said...

Sad. The cost of war is almost always too high, especially when the expense buys nothing but loss and grief. Very nice. For me, this is a view of a different side of you.

Harnett-Hargrove said...

Hero soldiers.
Warrior poets.
The telescoping is well done.
I thought this had something to do with Musashi's work, from the thumbnail.
-J

Lorenzo — Alchemist's Pillow said...

Very powerful. Echos of those nightmares that "invade sleep and penetrate lifetimes".
The last stanza haunts the reader after the reading and the rereadings are done: the message to the mother, the thanks, the fading color, the misplaced honor.

e said...

Too true for too many...Poignant...well done, Jeff.

Tom said...

it's great to read relevant poetry that has heart...the best verse i've read from you, nice.

She Writes said...

You got me on this one. That after note...

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