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August 23, 1944 - 102 miles west of Paris (Free verse) by Ranger

"Locket" This field is dead This road dismayed The earth has been grazed Ploughed into bruising waves by steel oxen Who'd thundered like the sea Mist & smoke Breaking beneath a murderous moon They trod that final road And closed their eyes at last Now those tides have been stemmed All oceans are silent Remaining only in the whittling of wind Through empty shells Dawn air, still, thin and calm Birds struggle for purchase While on the ground lies a small gold ring With a small white face Staring at the sky

ecargo 5-Jul-06/12:11 PM
I like the imagery and the way you've told this, Ranger. Some word/imagery choices leave me a little confused though (and it may be that I'm misreading it). Are the "oxen" tanks? And if so, since the field is dead, the choice of "ploughing" and other words that speak of farming--of planting a seed that will grow and flourish and nurture--seems contradictory (the field being dead and all). If you're equating it to the sowing of dragon's teeth (a la Jason) or sowing fields with salt in warfare, I'm not getting that in what's given.

"Whittling" seems an odd word choice, though the emptiness--of the shell, the hollowness of a ring--works really nicely.

I like the ocean imagery and the last verse is a winner (though I'd tweak it a little, if it were mine--little things: stopping after "purchase" (though you'd have to punctuate throughout then) and dropping "While" and just saying "On the ground lies . . .").

Blah blah blah aside, I like it a lot.




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