Good morning, all. I find myself lacking a lot of motivation today. A fighter who lacks the will to fight. What do you do when you know there are so many battles ahead of you but all you want to do is slink into the woods to be a mushroom farmer? You become a writer. Enjoy the poem today, gang.
Thereupon
verdant fields
broken shields
shattered spears
tired fears
i lie upon this wild green
cradled by red-soaked grasses
shivering and shuddering, unseen
worried i won’t find my glasses
shallow, fluttering breaths
we understood not our trespasses
blinded by ancient shibboleths
now enveloped by black masses
without mouths they scream
frothing lips and gnashing teeth
gnawing at my every seam
come, come, come, they seethe
smoke rising from a burning bush
bayonets and boot knives rattling, clattering
once i pricked my finger upon a rosebush
i don’t remember so much blood spattering
far above within the clouds
a face i see so fair and free
yet i lie broken on these grounds
having incurred one final fee
it starts to rain
a gentle mist
as terrors wane
a calming tryst
thereupon those verdant fields
Poems by Sam 