"battlefeild" poems
I have gold coursing through my veins and silver flooding in my lungs that turn into richened glitter with every exhale
My mind is a garden with exotic fauna to leave all who enter in awe
My words are like the sharpest blades that pierce into a battlefeild of whirling lies
My heart is a chasmic void to trap you in my sweetest lullaby
For my poetry is the wing of a butterfly and a drop of poison all in one
Jan 24, 2019
Jan 24, 2019 at 11:38 PM UTC
As I walk through the battlefeild of hate
Bleeding every step of the way
I remember the reason why I fight
The reason why I must return home
As the blood gushes out of my open wounds
My strength never dwindle beyond my reach
I crawl in pain making my way
Just to live another day
As I watch my comrades fall to the ground
My fears grew stronger
And my pride lit the night,
I'm coming home...that I do swear
I made a promise
One that I plan to keep
I will not die here
Not as long as my heart beats
You wait for me at home
And I will see you soon
My love of my life...stay strong my dear
For me...please...I will end this here
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 12:46 AM UTC
1.
The rolling hills
Crest and
Dive and
Move like
Oceans,
Covered in armies of trees.
Trees,
Like thousands upon
Thousands of warriors
Made of leaves and
Dirt and
The souls of prehistoric
Insects that may have
Planted them.
The trees carpeting
The thunderous hills
Have a sort of marching
Energy to them.
Like they
Were frozen
In place.
I am reminded of the
Army of terra cotta
Soldiers.
Unstuck in time,
Stunned in space,
They silently guard their own hill,
Crumbling slowly,
Like cheese.
And the terra cotta arms
And the terra cotta legs
Of the terra cotta trees
Are attempting to drag
Their iron roots
Through the hills,
Sinking like lead
Through the earth,
As if it was meant to be the
Ocean it resembled so much.
Maybe,
Armies of troops once trudged
And fought through swamps
As vast
And troubled
As seas.
And a terra cotta war,
Unconqured by
Shattering warriors,
Is left like
Smoldering porcelin,
Still being fought
On the hills
Of Utah.
2.
You can still
See the remains
Of their clash;
You can analyze
Their placement
And movements
Like battlefeild strategy.
You can wonder what
Terra cotta general
Put them there.
Did the trees respect him
As a father?
His tactics
Funneled down to
Swarming like ants
Or dripping like oil.
There is the occasional
Silent,
Lone,
Watchman,
Angled towards the
Power lines,
The coursing blue veins,
And the sky,
Filled with the
Bright and
Rippling trails
Of their valiant enemy.
3.
The terra cotta trees
Give way
To the stone,
Brick,
And steel,
Of an upright man,
Overwhelming white
Against
Overwhelming green
Against
Overwhelming yellow
Against
Overwhelming blue
Against
Overwhelming black.
The people live unaware,
(With meerkat eyes
And posture)
Of the armies surrounding them,
Signaling the dusk of their time.
The trees will outlive us all
By millennia.
Their war will continue.
Our bodies will become
A wave in the hills
That they march through,
A crater in the commander moon,
A foot soldier in their
War,
A leaf,
A branch,
A bird,
Food for a plant
That is food for a squirrel,
Soaked in through
The churning,
Breathing roots
Of the terra cotta trees,
In the living,
Moving,
Tumbling hills.
Sep 24, 2017
Sep 24, 2017 at 5:58 PM UTC