The wind at play, but solitary are the graves.
Green, succulent thorns find rest in recessed letters,
Red roses caress cold marble,
one space, some grass, another quiet space.
You lay there - with warriors of yours and others' wars.
And do they hear, do they see your bright blue eyes?
Broken English, the spirit of a winner, our "good wishes" man.
You were my tower, chest full of medals, navy knife,
A chess set with a match head for a queen's crown.
And when I play your game, and things seem grave,
I whistle, out of tune - your tune
How "Clouds gather over the city".
So "en garde" my worthy opponent, for if I sing
"Blue earth-ball spinnin' spinnin'"
My grandpa is with my knight.
Not in the shadow of the grave.
Published in "Poetic Tributes"
ISBN (Hardback) 1844609820
ISBN (Softback) 1844609839
Editor Sarah Marshall
Poetry Now, poetrynow@forwardpress.co.uk
The man who wished good wishes
© Copyright: Athena, 2002
Свидетельство о публикации №102042500211
Свидетельство о публикации №102042500211
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pretty interesting... I think I like it. But the title "The Man Who Wished Good Wishes"... to be honest sounds stiff and weird. It just doesn't really work "to wish wishes"... Just like in Russian, in English it's not so good either. But the rest is good. A little hard to read, but when you get it you start to like it. Nice job!
Evvie Rough 30.04.2002 17:13 • Заявить о нарушении
Evvie Rough 30.04.2002 17:13 • Заявить о нарушении