The Battlefield of Yore
6-20-06

Standing above the battlefield of yore Was the sole survivor of the war. With tears in his eyes he moaned and swore, “What in all this was worth dying for?” Across to his left, lay still his foes. Death consumed each one. Still his eyes saw their dying throes And they taunted he who won. Then to his right, allies and friends, Each to whom he owed his life; But he turned away, for mem’ry of what sends A man to death in strife. The cause of this, this bloody war, Lay far away from the slain; Hundreds of men entered into death’s door For a greedy king’s own gain. Into the lonely wind he cried out, “Life must mean something more!” But there was no answer to his shout From the great battlefield of yore.

                       The last stanza is the best, as usual. I blame my brother for the tone of this poem. I went snooping around his computer (his fault for using a password I knew of) and found his poems. Just as fate and despair are a common theme in my poems, betrayal and war are common themes in his. And of course, when I've just read something, or when I'm listening to music, the mood of what I've read or heard transfers onto what I write.

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