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

[....]

This is simply amazing! I love the set up of this piece.

[Linear]

Brilliant in construction and verse............I'm not saying that because......It's meant Great poetry indeed

[OT]

'tis a game of death - of fall and fall - great write as always RG!

[MuSe Ampoule]

Boys with their toys, men with their wars. Mothers with their sacrificial guilt trip, we're not safe from our own ideas. I like this piece, really...especially:
" the unintended casualties were too many to number
or name."

[Kenneth The Poet]

Concrete poetry at its finest. Nice work for sure.

[John Jackson (El Juero)]

The shape of this poem is not lost on me. I never served, but I understand these words on the level of humanity and loss.
We all lose...

[Robin]

as powerful as the vortex you depict. a haunting vision with a dire outcome ...

[Ed Hart]

yeah, surviving three or four of those will but hair on your chest

[Rene Velez]

pretty cool description of the world today, no one wins, when life is cheated, well done...nice write