Oct 182012
On his black stallion he watches
He watches the moon rise over the small city
The small city he will conquer before dawn
One dawn more among many, many dawns
He looks to his left at the flag waving in the breeze
The waving flag carrying a gruesome insignia
An insignia that holds to him meaning no more
No more meaning than the highest bidder
His gaze now, beyond the waving flag
Almost in a trance, as the hour draws near
And tugging at his chest the familiar feeling he totes
A pulsing feeling of dishonor hither
His gaze returns to the crested flag
As he holds back a traitorous tear
In the gleaming moonlight, as his sight hazes, he notes
With this dawn, the last of his conscience will wither
Amateur writer
Beautiful. This is wowsome. Best poem I’ve read in a while. Well done, sir.
Thanks!
A beautiful poem. Very beautiful poem and yet it is pointless. How did you achieve that contrast?
Lol. Contrast between beauty and purpose? Well, thank God they’re not forever yoked. Thanks though
Yeah. I want to agree with @kaycee…though I wouldn’t call it pointless. It just has no meaning.
Not to me anyways.
But it is a beautiful-looking poem.
Thanks, I guess
The creativity is impressive but I wish you brought the feelings and message closer to home. Surely, there is ample inspirition than a far-flung barbarian pillaging villages at dawn?
Lol. I’ve created beautiful nonsense it seems. Thanks @Myne. Fancy meeting you here