Poemranker [Replying] Sat Nov 23 15:15:05 PST 2024

Replying to a comment on:

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

Ranger

6-Jul-06/2:37 PM

Well, as far as farming/rejuvenation goes, isn't that the beautiful part of war? Life always follows. Poppies wouldn't carry the same amount of symbolism if they weren't living things. Sure, they look like blood - but it's the fact that they're a living representation of death that makes them so vivid, in my opinion. In the same way, a ploughed field appears dead and desolate, but something will grow from it again.
'Whittling' - I didn't want to use 'whispering', and it seemed right for the way in which the breeze is slivered by passing through something hollow (like a shell) and resembles the sound of the ocean.
I'll have a look through the punctuation when I have the time (Lord knows when that'll happen...) Sometime soon I intend to inflict some paradelle mischief upon the ranker too...be very afraid...
As always, thank you for the comments and ideas :-D

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