rhibran

The Forgotten Part of the Battlefield The crows are circling overhead. Even the far off ripping sound of musketry, That hateful sound of musketry, Can’t scare them away. They are waiting. As I walk I see a shoe. Discarded.  Forgotten. As I walk I see a newspaper. Folded.  Dirty. As I walk I see the bodies war cast aside. Sons.  Fathers. They are coming closer. A stiff body here, a dropped musket there, The forgotten lying everywhere. Clouded eyes staring sightless at the sky. Whose son is this? Will he be remembered well? Or will he be remembered at all? Will this torn and tattered body be buried? Or will it be left f

Two Birds, the Old Oak Tree, and Me My life is unclear. It is veiled and confused. The paths to take are not known until treaded, Like the dusty ones of the two-leggéd creatures. I feel as if, in mid flight, my wings have been taken And I plummet through the air like a stone, A stone tossed off a cliff to an unknown end. There is a bird of brilliant plumage, A bird that has captured my heart and knows it not. A bird harassed by others more fair than I. A bird who needs me but doesn’t. A bird who flies high and far for places I cannot follow. There is a lone bird of plainer plumage. A bird who follows me everywhere. A