thoughts on the day

thoughts on the day

A Poem by Pester D. Finches
"

Sitting in the cemetery on pine ridge road, 11:00 am, May 25th

"

 

Thoughts on the day:
Sitting in the cemetery on pine ridge road, 11:00 am, May 25th
 
 
The hills are green and rolling
A light wind blows the trees
And all around me on the ground
The sweet wind blows the leaves.
 
Although the young man lying here
No wife, that much I see
No children had been born to him
For he was only 23.
 
Above his name in polished stone
Between the words “world war”
There is something engraved there
With wings that says "air corps"
 
A long forgotten symbol
A long forgotten life
A long forgotten enemy
A long forgotten strife.
 
Could his youth have known?
That once the years had passed
That no one would remember him
Scarce his comrades that go passed.
 
His comrades are all old now
Their bones are stiff with age
But they still stand and raise their hands
Last light upon the stage.
 
But their bones can’t make then stay
They sigh and kick the ground
And think they’ll be buried there
A thought that will resound.
 
They go and leave me sitting there
Beside the youth, beside the tree
I think “what horror of past war,
And what it would have done to me”

© 2009 Pester D. Finches


My Review

Would you like to review this Poem?
Login | Register




Reviews

sadly so many graves the same. Wish we could change the past and give them the life they deserve and should have experienced :(

Posted 15 Years Ago


Very touching tale of a lost soldier. I definitely touches the heart. Excellent writing.

Posted 15 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


Stats

126 Views
2 Reviews
Rating
Added on May 26, 2009
Last Updated on May 26, 2009

Author

Pester D. Finches
Pester D. Finches

the middle of No-Where, NY



About
hi, my name is Pester, some of you may know me as j.j. or what you will, but you can call my Danny (my middle name). i like Danny better them Pester, dont you? more..

Writing