Nu Poetry 7-13
Monday, July 21, 2008
Where Distant Trumpets Sound

By Edward Wolverton@2008

Silence in a battle ground
where tears fly by as bullets find,
what heroes sound a battle cry
to him
who lies beneath the stone.

Where distant trumpets flow
the sound of life,
and where blood is spilled
on the battle ground,
there is no room left
in my heart
to fight.
 
When joy is gone
and the bullets fire with flame,
and night with day the same,
as I crawl with my limbs
shattered to the pain,
where distance
is called a land
screaming with hell,
I sound my own horn
to cry above my shame,
that I am a hero,
and all else
just the sound of war.

Where distant trumpets sound
to the greatness beyond belief,
a soldier cries out for dignity
that he did not retreat,
as silence found a bullet there,
riddled in pain and agony
and lost in the gambit play
the soldier falls to his knees,
listening for the comfort of silence
that curls the air in his ear,
the drum beat of war
has taken a sound
of a bleeding
beating heart.

Silence stands tall
as the flag is folded,
twenty one guns salute
as a bugle plays
one last tune,
as his distance cried
one last fall,
the hero
of all my world.
 

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