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Listening to Distant Bombs

by Julie Adams

Clouds rumble discontent; flickers betray the night sky
Hawks circle in figure-eights overhead,
little Fallujah boys squint dark eyes to the west
Prey out of sight; innocents taken instead

The shudders we feel from the east is war:
No post-mortum resolve to escape apocolyptic dreams
The skies, solemn, under a pale, sad sack moon,
Betray no tearful mother at each bombing scene


04/03/2006

Author's Note:


PLEASE NOTE: THIS IS VERY ROUGH!

In the midst of a NO-end-in-sight war, I offer the reader
my modest and tributory modernization of Denise Levertov's
first published poem, Listening to Distant Guns,
which follows here:

Listening to Distant Guns


The roses tremble; oh the sunflower's eye
Is opened wide in sad expectancy.
Westward and back the circling swallows fly, 
The rooks' battalions dwindle near the hill.

That low pulsation in the east is war:
No bell now breaks the evening's silent dream.
The bloodless clarity of the evening's sky
Betrays no whisper of the battle-scream.

1940

Posted on 04/03/2006
Copyright © 2021 Julie Adams

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Charles E Minshall on 04/03/06 at 07:37 PM

War is hell. Good poem Julie...Charlie

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