A foundation of sand

by erotema   May 1, 2005


Come with me, and we might be made whole again.

those streets, so paved with by-gone shattered dreams,
make no foundation strong enough to hold.
the tears of ruin’d men and children’s screams
made mute by wartime stories left untold.

they fear the daylight, straying from the path,
they miss the bloody, war-torn aftermath.

the soldiers march in columns: two by two.
the distant faces show no trace of art
or warmth. their chant, a soldier’s cry, rings true:
“’tis bitter cold, and I am sick at heart.”

...come with me...

the thunder booms across the battlefield
and strikes down those who stand with nerve to fight.
the armies, marching forth, refuse to yield,
and strident clamor clashes through the night.

now -- silent. death comes bearing peaceful sleep,
no witness over mangled corpse shall weep.

...and we might be made whole...

for those who died, the moon shall ne’er retreat,
but those who live might see the shining Light.
a city sleeps while one still roams the street,
the day comes not to those who thrive at night.

the soldiers march in columns: two by two.
“’tis bitter cold, and I am sick at heart.”

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Latest Comments

  • 17 years ago

    by Derf K

    Now the drama rising and moving in this poem sweeps the reader along.
    Very effective on the emotional appeal.

  • 18 years ago

    by Dorotea©

    Wow, what a heartwreching story! The poem, I must say, was written very well and thoroughly. I'm kind of out of breath after reading that. The message was so powerful. It's sad to think of all those soldiers who fight to death and die without even being remembered. Keep writing,
    Satuxxa
    p.s You're in my favorites by now.

  • 18 years ago

    by ** JeNa **

    that was a great poe, u really have talent keep up the good work!!

  • 18 years ago

    by ShadowedPhoenix

    Wow that was defiantly different, it flowed really well and had a unique style, I loved it although it's sad. 5*

  • 18 years ago

    by erotema

    this poem speaks in a t.s. eliot style about war, and how the countless men become faceless soldiers without any emotion. once dead, these men are so detached that they are not even missed. also, twenty bonus points go to the person who can figure out where the line "'tis bitter cold, and I am sick at heart" is from.