Tattered Flag .. .


Down by the Ypres point
    I thought I saw an old woman
she was wearing a woollen shawl
    and in her eyes I only saw aloneness

In the dykes and in the gutter
    she searched in sorrow for her soldier boy
as she stabbed the rats away
    the woman had forgotten how to pray

Across the tawny grasses
    all standing in an uneven row
bowed backed and heavy with twilight dew
    she advanced on another bed of brothers

Thrown here and there
    she glanced at every face
and some she stopped to arrange their hair
    she wished she had still a prayer to say

The sound of gunfire in the distance
    reminded her of where she were
the age of these young lovers
    none to return to their mothers

Her lonely solitude now complete
    her soul beyond torment
her every tear was spent, she bent
    to another fallen lord believing now there was no God

An eerie shaft of sunlight fell
    upon a hill festooned of bodies
and there he lay full sail upon an open sea
    the son she bore it seemed a gentle smile he wore

She hoisted up one limpid flag that she had found
    then threw herself upon the ground to mourn
the night and cry the flag, it fluttered on the hill by light
    ‘aye a different sun and ‘aye the saddest sight


About edenbray

I am a writer ... a beat poet who began writing poetry way back in 1966 ... 'edenbray is born ugly, wet, covered in blood, mucous & bodily functions, the effluence of my short life' ... I recently published my 1st solo Anthology - the best of 60 years writing - previously I ran my own Art Supplies Store for 40 yrs before I became a full-time writer I am a Blogger who has posted 1,000 poems - available in 24 themed booklets ... please ask for details + leave a 'like' or a comment for my encouragement, thank you so much for listening - I truly value your opinion on my work ~ in fact I literally survive on your creative input ~ edenbray
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