The Last Master of War Ii
I who have dwelt long
On the keeping of a vow,
That which is folded into
Steel --
And hammered and drawn --
The making and remaking --
Melded and beaten into one,
Sat now pondering
Upon all thus whence forged
At the battles heightened
Pitch...
For where else do men
Discover a truer kinship
Than when engaged in fierce
War?
Immersed in deep thought --
Mesmerised by glint and glare;
Drawn into the fractured glass
As a distracted man,
Ensconced at the bright
Hearths side,
Stares vacantly into flames.
Images, memories;
A mind, pliable as water,
Crowded with dead, long ago
Faces
Of those comrades slain...
For no promise ever made
Was truly made unless kept.
My little craft stirs
As rousing from idle dreams;
Shrill birdsong from woodland
Fringe,
Glib mallards laughing;
Incessant lap, lap, lapping,
Mist dissipates at lakes edge;
Prow swings slow about
As if turned by unseen hands.
And out across the vastness,
This wide emptiness,
Faraway voices calling...
Then gone like evening breeze.
Copyright © John Fleming | Year Posted 2020
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment