Leaving Afghanistan

I am the gate keeper.

Two flags gone
Marking bodies where they fell,

Manure,
Useful,

Two flags fleeing loose rounds,
Auras,

Fleeting,

Bring your palm, I can read it now,
Unhinged as I am,

The last are,
Making their way home.

-evocative short poetry-

Published in: on February 16, 2016 at 19:32  Leave a Comment  
Tags: , , , , , , ,

The Courtyard

The courtyard is alive with the spit of angry bullets,
And baked hard by the scorching sun.

Clouds of smoke drift in,
In patches,

And are,
Collected by moans,

That become tiny whirlwinds,
Which suck on the dog tags on dead men’s chests.

See – Why we fight, Soldier
photo – 67pics.com

evocative short poetry – words move

%d bloggers like this: