Forever

The women of world war II

Not inheritance, but giveaway
Was his epistle;
One
to
many of us,
miniscule faces, but
majuscule shades –
He sees all, feels all

The girl, deflowered, envisaged
A potent rebellion
Recovering from aftermath –
melancholy wasn’t her game;
The boy who crammed in school
Was also sculpting
with anything he could find,
The man wasn’t born a mountain
Yet lived enough to become one;
– them and many more
Who, he adorned
With his quirky keystrokes

And now, the somber sun
Harbinger pathos,
He holds my hand, quietly
Too bad he won’t write anymore

Ever again


Grace has us write dead man’s poetry on Poetics tonight. Join us to read some wonderful poetry. I didn’t have any one writer in mind, perhaps this is a tribute to all whom I have loved and admired.


20 thoughts on “Forever

  1. pretty cool line on not living on a mountain but becoming one….also the seeing all..the good bad and ugly has an otherworldly feel to it…as if they could step outside of it all and see it all…..

  2. i like how they find a way to express their heart even though going through tough times…or maybe it were the tough times that made them write or create… i too like the mountain lines

  3. Abhra–great write. I really loved, “The man wasn’t born a mountain
    Yet lived enough to become one” like when we pass and a loved one/friend will
    dump the ashes across the dead man’s favorite landscape, or in the dirt of a flower’s pot; we become those; well, who we were becomes those.

  4. Along with the photo this reminds me of all the truly strong women in World War II.. who moved to run the machine of U.S.. and waiting patiently to hear the written words of their men.. and sadly to often wait.. for the knock on the door.. and words in formal write.. truly meaning.. that love is all that’s left..

    of once written words.. that remain

    in heart..:)and eyes…

    of soul.. never icy.. only love…. as truly strong people..do..

    love one.. as ONE…

  5. A terrific take on the prompt; from Ernie Pyle to Brian Turner, war through poetic eyes become molten sculpted words. If you want to find about war, you send in a poet to experience it, then share it. Have you read HERE, BULLET, or seen the new movie FURY yet? Need to do both, brother.

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