T’is said the battle ended
as the tattered guidon fell
yet those who bear the scars
have a different tale to tell.
He stood among the bloodied
no one special - just a man
tears mingled with the blood he shed
it had never been his plan.
Stumbling he picked her up
slowly carried her away
cleansed her of the blood and tears
erased the days dismay
knowing that the battle speaks
only to those who were
thrust into its ugliness
twisted by its gore
thus do all battles ever rage
long after guidons fall
live forever in the thoughts
of those who met the call.
Their guidon touched the reddened earth
and bid them all farewell
save one who held her sacred
and marched her out of hell.
John G. Lawless
©6/12/2018
Categories:
guidons, freedom, military, soldier, war,
Form: Verse
False Warrior
Cold spear of winter’s harbinger
pierces the heart of summer
leaving her wounded beauty
bleeding out upon the landscape.
Autumn – cruel mercenary force
despoiling the scent of bounty
laying rot the un-ripened hope
denuding the cloaked forest,
Driving color from the stalks
into the shriveling roots
unable to withstand
frost’s crippling grip.
Marching under grey skied guidons
trampling the browning fields
mocking the heraldic false pride
of rainbow colored foliage.
Pawn – sacrificed by Winter’s greed
drawn into the icy depth of loss
duped by the beauty of the battle
to expire on the winds of change.
John G. Lawless
10/16/2015
Categories:
guidons, autumn, change, metaphor, military,
Form: Free verse