Early spring day the sun is going
To set at the western mountain ridges
And the tombstones are lining up and greyly shining
On the sky a bird is whirling with his remiges.
Far away, beside the entrance
Gate, the many flags are waving
On the flagpoles and the statues are erected for remembrance.
A short day, slowly the darkness is drawing.
On the big tree, a crow make sounds, caw and caw
As if he try to appeal to the live.
On the shaking bough, he’s grasping tightly by his paw.
And the otherworld not long, he warns to the live.
The artificial flowers are picked by the tombstones,
On the yellow lawn, the more they’re splendid
The more they’re looked lonely, on this divine zones,
But the Congress’s strife for the profit is not ended.
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Author:
Kinsley Lee (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: March 5th, 2023 18:05
- Comment from author about the poem: On the way to spring, I visited the National Cemetery. I try to write my feeling at late day of the landscape.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 10
- Users favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek
Offline)
Comments2
Good write K.
Hi! Thank you for your kind comments. Have a nice new week and new spring.
'A short day, slowly the darkness is drawing.'
beautiful Poetry, reading these words I can't help
but apply it as metaphor to those gone, but unforgotten
and their legacy:
'whose short life's, linger as a lasting shadow'
affording their proud nation an anchor
for their hope's
despite, the folly of those
who tarnish their memories and sacrifices
in the name of short-sighted
political machinations...
this a Truism
in Dongjak-dong
as it is
in Delville Wood
as it is
in Arlington;
'War
is young men
dying
and old men
plotting'
.
.
.
Hi! L.B.
Thank you for your kind comments. Many young soldiers were dead for their country and for his left people, but the live forget their sacrifice and quarrel for their profits not country. It's sorrow to me. Even if the they put the artificial flowers to them, only the ritual and political action...
Have a nice new week and new spring. Best Regards.
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