One for sorrow: silent on a leafless bough,
the dead-black bird feasts upon my brother's eye
for want of berries in a blasted land no plough
could ever turn so well. For this is hell and I -
damned soul yet to brave the gates - dig a grave
for the living. Six feet of mud, rank as a sty,
forms walls we process between, straight as a nave
to an altar of blood. This is my flesh: kneel
and partake of the god who refused to save
his own son. Call his name, then falter and squeal.
Pigs to the slaughter. No mercy, no quarter.
Blow on your whistle and the magpie will steal
its silver from lips that cry out for water.
Cry Saint George and England: my country, I vow
my faith in thee now lies shattered by mortar.
Comments
maggyvaneijk | October 14, 2010 - 21:29
very dark, dangerous and wonderful, I like the stark religious imagery.
RachelPatricia | October 14, 2010 - 23:59
This is brilliant.
'silent on a leafless bough,
the dead-black bird feasts upon my brother's eye
for want of berries in a blasted land no plough
could ever turn so well.'
and
'Pigs to the slaughter. No mercy, no quarter.
Blow on your whistle and the magpie will steal
its silver from lips that cry out for water.'
- just genius, and so vivid and macabre. Really admire the rhyme and think the structure works perfectly - the half-stanza adds such impact.
Well done on the cherry, this is stunning and was a joy to read :)
Rachel xx
skinner_jennifer | October 15, 2010 - 07:12
Brilliant I love how you tell this poem, so vivid
and expressive.
Jenny.
fatboy74 | October 15, 2010 - 09:19
Wonderful take on the horrors of the first world war - really effective imagery. Particularly like the way you have used the magpie to draw the reader in. Excellent. :-)
skinner_jennifer | October 15, 2010 - 15:38
Hi WilkyBarKid,
Brilliant piece and congratulations on the cherries,
well deserved.
Jenny.
Highhat | October 15, 2010 - 18:07
very literate. Well done-