Thursday, July 21, 2011


Such pathetic end
Of victorious embattled day
Wet barracks
Dripping rain saturates

Saturates the spirit
With numbing emptiness
Halting cries of triumphant
Releasing moans from the wounded

Wounded bodies and minds
Remember the pain of steel
Heart’s pain from conquering
Soul’s pain from remembering.

Remembering this, and before
Writing songs of blood lust and glory
Strong drink, and
Loud boasts covering

Covering shield protecting
Now, from the bunk above
In darkness comes, the plonk, plonk, plonk
Of my brother’s blood

Ken Goree

The weather must be getting to me.  I was visualizing a Viking warrior in this poem; a thoughtful warrior contemplating what it means to be a warrior, and the apathy that ensnares him.   He has no more thought about the dripping blood of his companion, other than to cover himself with his shield, and still mildly vexed at the sound of the falling droplets against metal.

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