Escape

Escape

A Poem by Mike Mardis
"

An experiment in alliteration, this is a poem of war from the perspective of the refugee.

"
Hunkered all in our huddled hives.
We slosh in muddy blood puddles
As the second war rings around.
Some hum in a quiet prayer
While others cry out in slurred curses.
Waiting for rescues not to be,
So some settle for shallow graves.
Nocternal prey - we move at dark -
slop slowly on trampled torsos
In the veil of nights black blanket,
Frosted in filth - we're only eyes.

© 2016 Mike Mardis


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Featured Review

I thought this poem is okay. There's some good music and alliteration, but the first line reads to me cliched or the at the very least unoriginal. Maybe you should either excise it or revise it. The best part of the poem is the last line which leaves the poem with an interesting image that also happens to work as a good summation of the theme.

This review was written for a previous version of this writing

Posted 10 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Mike Mardis

10 Years Ago

Thanks for the feedback, Andrew. I agree about the first line. It needs work. I wrote this a long ti.. read more



Reviews

I thought this poem is okay. There's some good music and alliteration, but the first line reads to me cliched or the at the very least unoriginal. Maybe you should either excise it or revise it. The best part of the poem is the last line which leaves the poem with an interesting image that also happens to work as a good summation of the theme.

This review was written for a previous version of this writing

Posted 10 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Mike Mardis

10 Years Ago

Thanks for the feedback, Andrew. I agree about the first line. It needs work. I wrote this a long ti.. read more

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1 Review
Added on July 24, 2014
Last Updated on March 25, 2016
Tags: WWII, escape, war, freedom, help, jewish, death, life

Author

Mike Mardis
Mike Mardis

Chicago, IL



About
I'm a marketer by trade and a writer by passion. I peel back the obvious to find the ambiguous and attempt to pen the process. There is no such a beast as perfect prose or poem. What we write is a .. more..

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