In fated inclemency
leading the charge
each push
deeper into the fray
The sound of the bugle
the call of the wild
where death lies afloat
in the quay
Each choice made to question
each vow pledged in blood
with very few
seeing the dawn
But onward we push
the bold and the meek
with our swords
and our bayonets drawn
The enemy fronted
all cannons in tow
the smoke makes things
harder to gauge
As destiny waits
on top of the hill
and the battle
continues to rage
One time looking back
the bodies lay piled
like toy soldiers
once toppled and strewn
Afoot in the madness
alone in the dark
my horse lying dead
— in the dew
(Dreamsleep: December, 2025)
Red Haired Freckle Faced Blues ...
“To sound
like bacon smells”
Bonnie said to me
in jest
In the Spring
of 1970
At Penn State’s
— Colloquy Fest
(Bonnie Raitt & Son House: Spring 1970)
-
Author:
Kurt Philip Behm (
Offline) - Published: December 23rd, 2025 11:11
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 6
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments2
War and battle in this poem. A dark poem Kurt well done
Thanks. I was in a Tennyson mood last night.
You are most welcome Kurt you are very well read
Kurt, this is haunting and reflective. You let history, dream, and aftermath bleed into one another, and the result feels honest rather than theatrical. It lingers because it doesn’t try to resolve anything. Strong work. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Your commenting is ALWAYS poetic. Thanks and the Merriest Christmas.
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