Drums
Drums everywhere
Breathing life to culture
life to performance
life to soldiers
Each signaling
One
Two
One
Two
One
After
One
Another
Signifying the
beat of battle
Of rhythmic war
of a symphony
A symphony of terror
not always as it seems
Signifying the
heat of battle
Of wives in bed
of steamy passion
A steam of mustard gas
concealing what it is
Signifying the
neat of battle
of lined up soldiers
of a sitting duck
A duck with angel wings
unwilling to fly away.
What I fear most
The end of the drums
The end of
beat,
of neat,
and of heat
Continuing into
cold, sloppy silence.
What a crime
That a symphony
so beautiful
should ever be urged
to cease.
👁 5💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Douglas Larcher
I write the world as I see it... No, that doesn't quite explain it. Rather, I write the world that I see - it must be far different than the one everyone else experiences. After all, we can never truly know the mind of another individual. We are all but spinning tops, always colliding, never coinciding. Perhaps one day we will, but until then, look around and enjoy the chaos. ~Always love, Douglas Larcher
View all poems →Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.