our sick game

love breathed its last. 

Hell perched upon your neck.

we stood face to face like warriors.

felt like I was 3 inches from a raging inferno.

Forever was a tiny white/orange cinder thrown

from the planet-rattling explosion.

nothing beautiful bloomed.

nothing glorious shined.

Hatred laughed.

War smiled.

Death

danced

we fell

like

hailstones,

and shattered against our own homes.

 

 

the unintended casualties were too many to number

or name.

 this type of game has no room for cheerful winners;

only broken survivors.

Reviews

[Abysmal Savant]

broken survivors...nice- one question when you state "we fell like hailstones, and shattered against our own homes." does this refer to the division of the family or the destruction of our own habitat? I guess both would relate to the topic. interesting enough the poem looks shaped like a mushroom cloud- good work poet.
BiG^uPs/StAy^uP

[thomas the younger]

...well-wrought, inkslinger. -as you may've noticed, however, the most compelling line(s) to readers thus far: "we fell / like / hailstones, / and shattered aganist our own homes."

did you (initially) pause there?
because that's your Elegant End...

[Jūdan FyreHeart]

The shape and style added that something extra to the drama and war of this peace. The crash, shattering insanity and small satisfied smile as you count less broken bones than your opponent.

[arbitrary jane]

a mushroom cloud, fallout poem full of beautifully wrought phrasing. the weight and depth of this is powerful.

to compare relationship to modern warfare (and vice versa) in such a bold stroke, and with so many lines of tether is a long, brutal series of blows.

'Death
danced
we fell
like
hailstones,
and shattered against our own homes.'

and

'Hell perched upon your neck.
we stood face to face like warriors.
felt like I was 3 inches from a raging inferno.
Forever was a tiny white/orange cinder thrown
from the planet-rattling explosion.'

and (good lawd, im repeating the whole thing) the backwards litotes-portrait of
'nothing beautiful bloomed.
nothing glorious shined.'

its the song of the broken survivor as the smoke blows and blows in the emptiness of a blasted landscape world

[Kerry O'Connor]

Wow! A poem shaped like an atomic explosion!! Every word you have written here counts, RG. So creative and meaningful.

[Moflo]

Definitely a very powerful poem. The syntax is really interesting, I feel it adds a lot of substance to the piece as a whole. Very nicely written.

[emmajoy]

The shape of war .. an eruption of words written harshly but superbly. A guilt trip on behalf of all Mankind.
That last line screams time, '.. this type of game has no room for cheerful winners; only broken survivors.'

[Lily Mae]

Powerful and intense write.. to many or name...so true..xx

[.]

poignant enough but then you shape it like a bomb..and BANG...its in your face! Great stuff

[Michael of Gilead]

interesting form....i think so editing could help