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Mind Of A Forgotten Soldier
Contributed by
ForgetMeNot
on
Tuesday, 27th April 2004 @ 12:45:24 AM in AEST
Topic:
Grief
|
I dreamed of being a different man,
Of good judgment and opinion; Still-
At the end of my disastrous afternoons,
Always would I remember the labyrinth of steps
Since the days of my childhood I traced.
Convinced, that Id used up time,
And Time had used me up as well,
I spent the silver evenings at the banks of the Black River;
Lost, in all the tiny wrinkles in the horizon before it all blurred away into the sunset.
Vain of heart, surrounded with the imaginary repetition
Of ancient stars - ancient battles, in which I so proudly held my sword,
Now rusty with the blood that many Christian mortals shed,
By the intimacy of its blade within their breast.
One too many sins running trough my veins
To recall the one moment, in which I gave myself to passion-
Amid the chaos, burning with love-
Sweeter was the contact of her gypsy lips under the shadows;
Agonizing, were the deep pools of her eyes, reflecting the dreams of men.
With beauty in my naked arms,
Infinite tomorrows stood aside,
Waiting, poised, as I, rider of the raised sword,
Realized that eternity never waited at the crossing of the stars,
But recurred to my humble human flesh
When symbolic details of the first morning of my infancy faded,
Floated away, beyond the reach of human memory.
Anxious voices elevated the corruption my life held;
The memory of the concubine that warmed my side,
The feelings of shameful lust that hardened even the most sensitive corners of my body,
As I recalled the bloodiest of wars;
The ignorance, the indecision.
And I keep in mind;
The final platinum moon did not belong to me,
As Death strolled into my slumber,
And with my battered mind and soul departed,
Past the doorway to his Inferno, and the gates to Gods eternal peace,
Past the place where the forsaken roam, and the place where the restless writhe,
And deep inside the hollow snippets of my days;
My voice, my face, my temper, and my luck.
Minuscule rays of light enter the abyss Ive been bound to,
And I remember the mirror that saw me for the last time,
And reflected the dreams I long had hid,
Of being a man, a different one,
Who saved the silent,
Who no one feared,
Whose loneliness was not filled with conversations with the dead,
Whose decomposing souvenirs of the real world never wove hatred into the trail of remembrance,
That he long ago left, inside the womb of Time.
Copyright ©
ForgetMeNot
... [
2004-04-27 00:45:24]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: Mind Of A Forgotten Soldier
(User Rating: 1 )
by Former_Member on
Tuesday, 27th April 2004 @ 04:17:55 AM AEST
(User
Info | Send
a Message)
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Now this has a prolific number of vivid lines. I may quote one, thus;
"Lost, in all the tiny wrinkles in the horizon before it all blurred away into the sunset. "
A very well conjured item of prose. I like its profundity, although at points it does become too convoluted.
"Whose decomposing souvenirs of the real world never wove hatred into the trail of remembrance,"
Perhaps 'memories', or 'possessions' may have worked better here. Also, I'd use 'pattern' instead of trail. Anyway - apart from this point, I'd expect you should be proud of yourself. This is rather good. |
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Re: Mind Of A Forgotten Soldier
(User Rating: 0 )
by Former_Member on
Tuesday, 27th April 2004 @ 12:58:37 PM AEST
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a Message)
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| A goodly written poem with feeling and lots of imagery. |
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