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on the morning of a battlefield
by Jared Fladelandwhatever happened to the dull words
inside my head?
I remember once that they were clear:
alive, not dead;
and all in all not a trace of fear.
is this land a land of pious fate
to die yet stay
awake, through treach'rous snowy lament?
This is the way
To insure this life is quite well spent.
on hallowed ground we do reside now
to pluck our graves
of roses, thorns, and bushes made right.
To all who prays,
let me assure you that we will fight. 04/11/2011 Posted on 04/11/2011
Copyright © 2025 Jared Fladeland
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Charlie Morgan on 04/11/11 at 03:18 PM ...jared, man o' man; wonderfully tight-chilling in its scope, no periods in this cliff notes-drama. |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 04/11/11 at 09:50 PM You really go for such a great poetic knockout at the end. I love it. Perfect. |
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