As the bomb hits...

by Ben Pickard   Jul 21, 2019


...I am amputated from reality,
and pain-drenched wailings swim
lethargically through the dizzying air

I don't know why the rain is painted rouge
and is heavy with flesh and body parts
but this ditch is slicker than it was

Men's arms and legs make a mockery
of the biology I was taught; most would
put a contortionist's to shame

And the stench! a foundry has never smelt
so damn metallic

I hope the buzzing stops, though, because
it's beginning to feel like my ears are bleeding,
and my eyes are mistier now

Swimming to shore feels like
swimming through sludge, which is funny because
I was always such a strong swimmer

quietly, now.

quietly

--

Ben Pickard 2019

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Latest Comments

  • 2 days ago

    by Jack

    Wow!

  • 1 year ago

    by Milo

    You had my attention from start to finish. Your poems always have a way of catching my full attention. Congrats!

  • 1 year ago

    by Darren

    wow

    not a rhyme in sight, no hint of a sonnet polluting this wonderful free verse.

    I enjoyed reading this Ben.
    congrats on the win.

    • 1 year ago

      by Ben Pickard

      Just as I was beginning to think of rewriting it in iambic pentameter...

      Thanks, Darren

  • 1 year ago

    by Everlasting

    I saw it coming. I saw it coming and I just couldn’t run away from it. Really, your poem was the bomb. It hit me.

    Well deserve win. Congratulations.

  • 1 year ago

    by Milly Hayward

    A Haunting, macabre tapestry that captures vividly the horrors of war. Not a huge fan of non rhyming or war poetry I find your imagery and emotion pulling content to be spot on and worryingly compelling because the visuals are scarily accurate. A great write. Milly x

    • 1 year ago

      by Ben Pickard

      I wasn't a huge fan of war poetry until I read Wilfred Owen's "Anthem for doomed youth" and "Dulce et decorum est". They are masterpieces and the imagery in the latter is haunting and so vivid.
      Thanks, Milly

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