(think of this as an epitaph for every battle ever fought)
Long ago it was
Here the heroes stood
There, their countless enemies
Great was the battle
And when it ended
None of them survived
And so this place
Came by the names
It carries unto today
Plain of Endless Blood
The Land Of Bones
The Rust-Stained Ground
And on this plain
Where a thousand swords
Were shatters and broken
The ghosts of those
Who perished that day
Still war in nightmares
None remember the heroes
None remember their enemies
None care their causes
They are all dead
And why they died
Is unimportant now
You’ve given this an old Celtic bard rhythm, like Taliesan (Battle of the Trees). It came from a deep and personal place or perhaps several. It’s evocative, spare, and sounds great read aloud in stentorian tones! Thanks for posting it!
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Thank you. I once tried reading another piece of poetry I wrote, but it just did not answer. It sounded better in my head than it did from my lips.
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I once had a teacher who required all finished work be read aloud. “Poetry is a song,” she said. “And if reading aloud doesn’t convey melody and rhythm, you’ve got more work to do.” So, I’m in the habit of reading poetry and most short prose aloud before commenting. Yours sang.
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