We hear the stories quite clears
Of ANZACs and their families quite dear
As we will remember each one
And the deeds that cannot be undone
They march on into history now
Thousands marching in lines unbowed
For country and for fallen mates
As each no doubt contemplating their fate
What memories are left of them to find
There’s Longstaff’s Menin Gate at Midnight painting devine
Or poppies blowing red on Flanders Fields
And Ware’s cities of the dead on ground unyielded
April 25 each year as our remembrance comes
They march on again as one
And a haunting melancholia grasps me
Of new conflicts and sacrifice you see.
© Paul Warren Poetry
Categories:
unyielded, remember, war,
Form: Dramatic Verse
SOPHISTICATED
Life is complicated and sophisticated
Are you feeling sometimes the unwanted
The clouds are flying onto the filed unyielded
We have to overcome our worst fear fabricated
Tr?n Minh Hi?n Hien Tran Orlando December 21, 2016
Categories:
unyielded, allusion,
Form: Quatrain
It’s Sunday morning – early morning –
and already you are gone.
The shadows of night – still unyielded
to the sun – lay still and soft across
my bed, holding me in arms that
should be yours.
The shadows are more faithful.
I cling to your moist pillow,
needing it to be your heart.
Our Saturday night love is a
lukewarm, melancholy dream.
I stay under the covers, hoping it
won’t flee and follow you, who cast
it off as quickly and unceremoniously and
happily as a blanket in Hell in July.
It’s Sunday morning and the
shadows are more faithful.
Categories:
unyielded, lost love,
Form: Free verse
Memories, corpses, decomposition
Making love to Earth's arsenal genitals
A colorless tapestry, a scar unyielded
Well I only wished to eat a bowl
Of insomnia yet, in the youth of
Every midnight lotus; we eat each others
Emotions; drink each other's thoughts
A banner of wordplay, a stream of cement
Transmit mystic oracles
By Glenn McCrary
© 2012 Glenn McCrary (All rights reserved)
Categories:
unyielded, imagination,
Form: Imagism