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eddom21Poems
The Promise. The hours pass us by like seconds, Sifting through our fingertips like grains of sand. Stretched out over the sullen blades, Beneath a blazing silver moon. A gnarled old willow stretches out, Ready to ****** But the cold of the night will never reach you, Wrapped inside a blanket of words and promises. Ghosts of the weeks past fade amongst the stars, Burning bright on their final eve, But a haunting thought teases our mind From over turmoiled seas foreign soils beckon. Across the poppy fields the duty-call summons, The unforgiving imperative rings true And tears me from your clutches, ****** into the war of a loveless country. The months crawl on, blurred with loneliness, I see you waiting at the station for my return, Instead a grey envelope replaces me, Abandoning you, alone in the crowd. And now, shivering on those sullen blades, You lie there, waiting to join me, As from afar I watch over you, Above the waning crescent moon.
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Dec 16, 2019
Dec 16, 2019 at 7:13 PM UTC
The first poem I ever wrote
The Promise. The hours pass us by like seconds, Sifting through our fingertips like grains of sand. Stretched out over the sullen blades, Beneath a blazing silver moon. A gnarled old willow stretches out, Ready to ****** But the cold of the night will never reach you, Wrapped inside a blanket of words and promises. Ghosts of the weeks past fade amongst the stars, Burning bright on their final eve, But a haunting thought teases our mind From over turmoiled seas foreign soils beckon. Across the poppy fields the duty-call summons, The unforgiving imperative rings true And tears me from your clutches, ****** into the war of a loveless country. The months crawl on, blurred with loneliness, I see you waiting at the station for my return, Instead a grey envelope replaces me, Abandoning you, alone in the crowd. And now, shivering on those sullen blades, You lie there, waiting to join me, As from afar I watch over you, Above the waning crescent moon.
A dip into the past with a poem I wrote, aged 15. Yes it is a war poem. No I had never, and still have never, been to war.
Written by
eddom21
Dec 16, 2019
Dec 16, 2019 at 7:13 PM UTC
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