soldier boys go to war, but world-weary men don't always come back.
..
and so he lays there, now;
sprawled upon the soot-stained ground, of corpses and ashes and gunpowder and stained with the blood of men gone to war (and men never coming back---)
and
the cannons fire like the world splitting in two; a combustion of smoke and sound and flame igniting a spark
and
he stands once again, rises, not bothering to brush himself off
musket gripped tight, tight, tight in hand (bayonet dulled from use)
(he forces his hold to slacken just one fraction, preparing himself for the recoil)
what was a military uniform ragged beyond recognition--
("go get 'em boys, go get 'em good, y'hear me?" the general commands more than questions--they're all just little toy soldiers marching off to war in dreams of glory to regale back to their children and wives, yes, but they'd thought they would live to return---but now they have been disillusioned----no longer soldier boys but world-weary men)
---covered in dust and ash and smoke and forgotten dreams, a family left behind, aims and---
fires.
YOU ARE READING
a litany of ruminations
Poezie{poetry collection} s c a t t e r e d dreams and drifting thoughts, oh, not everything is what it seems... (not necessarily from my own thoughts)
