Poem By J.S. Moore

From dawn to dusk on through the strident sorrow
Bullets and bayonets pierce flesh as tomorrow
Is closer yet farther than mind's eye ever sees
Vanishing from view as soldiers fall to their knees

Reflections for one moment in a myriad of tears
Ripples then youth scatters ashes with fears
Human wave assaults of sacrificial breath
Give no grounds to rounds of scattered death

Where once the torrents refused to yield
Along the once fallow now spirited field
Beneath dark dense fervent fumes
Unknown masses claim unmarked tombs

A plethora of forgotten souls to violence
Huddle in harrowing deafness and shuddering silence
Some empty eyed, others vacant hearted
With faith nonexistent, dreams and vision departed

The turmoil that is and was a single life
Slays like a conqueror, cuts deep like a knife
Ivory pommel – ebony blade
Crimson stained uniforms without parade

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Fire Giver

Amid Athens and abroad


It is time.

The captive audience
Surrounds the stage: