Alright so in my college lit class, we read poems written during a period of war. One of the assignments given was to creatively respond to one of the letters. I decided to write a poem on a letter written by a soldier during the Civil War.
I don't have a link to the letter at this time, but I hope to get it soon to put in here.
The letter was about a guy who seemed tired with the war he complained about how the soldiers had no time to themselves. From the letter, I also got the sense that the soldier who wrote the letter was longing to remember what it was like before the war started consuming him, turning into something that he never wanted to become.
Morbid Fabrication
It replenishes the thirst my life craves...
The beating of my heart, pulsing through my veins...
It kills others, leaving one to forever lie in their own crimson liquid...
The beating that war burdens onto others...
Yet still I stand
My country in my alienated hands
I'm in denial of what I'm becoming
These two hands of mine,
have caressed tears
captured laughter
And they've destroyed.
While life surges through my veins...
Revenge takes over my mind...
Leaving me to come up with solutions to end another's right of time
These frigid hands of mine are connected to the war.
Time is...
ticking...
pulsing...
beating...
And yet the war and I are breathing....
I'm my own morbid fabrication.
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1 comment:
Wow this is a powerful poem! Throughout my letter-finding process I hardly found any poems or letters from soldiers that were of a negative nature. All of mine were trying to be positive so this is great to contrast them with. This guy seems so depressed and consumed with the morbidness around him. If I were his family memeber I would have a tough road ahead when and if he came back. It just goes to show how miserable war and fighting is. Great blog!
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