Old SoldierA Poem by MarkThis is my first Villanelle, a format I discarded a decade ago, as the repeated lines made the read seem almost trite; I may have to reconsider!OLD SOLDIER Now, from the Field I'm fin'ly sent And view my Soldiers, sick with Woe My Fame and Fortune all are spent!
I cannot tell you where it went, Nor how it did so swiftly go: Now, from the Field I'm fin'ly sent...
My Fury, it will not relent, Yet I cannot find aught to throw; My Fame and Fortune all are spent!
I cannot e'en afford my rent! What next transpires, I do not know. Now, from the Field, I'm fin'ly sent...
From Brussels to Bruges, then on to Ghent, I tread, forlorn, in knee-deep Snow-- My Fame and Fortune all are spent.
God seeks, I think, that I repent-- 'til then, His Wrath will o'er me blow. Now, from the Field, I'm fin'ly sent: My Fame and Fortune All are spent!
March 6, 2009, 3:20 am © 2012 MarkFeatured Review
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Added on March 6, 2009Last Updated on September 20, 2012 AuthorMarkLas Vegas, NVAboutWriting, for me, has always been the friend who brought out the best in me, and who would never argue with me, except when necessary to point out my many obvious inconsistancies. Writing and.. more..Writing
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