Michael Edwards

A GRAIN OF SAND

 

A GRAIN OF SAND

 

Wind born sand in barren landscapes.

Rusty red but little shelter

in the hut where he was born.

                                                                                                           

The toddler played with guns of wood

where thirst and hunger both prevailed.

His early childhood soon foregone.

 

And as he grew he never tired

of tales told of battles fought,

imposing on his fertile mind.

 

And when the khaki jeep slowed down

his brown eyes opened shiny wide,

and on he jumped with keen embrace.

 

Remote and bleak the training ground

where fostered skills gave birth to anger

aimed at non existent foes.

 

And then to join the fighting cause

yet still a boy he died in vain,

before his chin had seen a blade.

 

Michael Edwards© May 2015

               

 

 

 

 

 

Comments3

  • BRIAN & ANGELA

    WELCOME ~ Thanks fro sahring a challenging first poem. It happens when there is mass conscription as in WW1 (1914 - 18) and WW2 (1939 - 45). Some die much too young to know what it was all about. Please check my POEMS ~ Thanks BRIAN

    • Michael Edwards

      Thank you Brian - yes I feel so much for the very young who get caught up in war.

    • SabreLi

      Wow. I interpret this poem to be a story of a boy, radicalised, and therefore died on the inside long before he had even seen a battle. Very good piece; please post more xx

      • Michael Edwards

        Thanks for commenting SabreLi - yes I had radicalisation in mind - in fact I also had the last line in my mind before I even wrote the piece which helped in giving direction to the writing. I will be posting more over the coming weeks.

      • Suresh

        Hey, I like to read from all over the place and this time I went all the way to your first.

        I found so much purity and innocence, an experience that most have felt growing up, playing imaginative games, even if far away from a barren landscape.

        But those that grow up under your imaginative write, only hear of glorious wars and heroes, and are anxious and eager to play the role.
        I am imagining early 1900s either in India or the Boers war in South Africa - and didn't feel radicalization, but just coming of age and loss of innocence.

        I was transported by your write. I hope you don't mind my taking this Liberty.

        • Michael Edwards

          I certainly don't mind - I feel flattered that not only did you take the trouble to look at my 'back catalogue' but that you should so kindly comment at such length. You have truly captured my thoughts when I wrote this piece and which along with other early postings like 'In Umbria' remain among my favourites. I would like to write far more along these lines but I'm afraid they take me a long time to write compared to the humorous pieces and I don't seem to have the time these days especially with my art work taking front stage. Thank you so so much Suresh - I am truly grateful for your kind words.



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