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a poem in progress

One hand holds, and one hand breaks off.
Names are called out distantly.
War will leave no time for lovers.

Marches keep the tune of duty.
Time to die or fight or both and lose here.
x
grieving in the distance, singing.

A battle call, a lovers song
Anthems for death’s victory
A battle call, a lover’s song
Grieving in the distance, crying.

War will leave no time for lovers.
Time to die or fight and lose here.
x
grieving in the distance, singing.


This entry was posted by Dylan April 14th, 2005 and is tagged: . You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.



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Comments

  1. Heather April 16th

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    I like it so far. I’ll be looking for the finished piece :) (still in progress you said, right?)


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Dylan

Pleased to meet you! I'm Dylan Kinnett, your friendly neighborhood writer.