In a place where the sun
Doesn’t reach anymore
Sits a green plastic soldier
Who’s ready for war
With canteen and pistol
Molded onto to his side
He’s ever-alert
No desire to hide
With bazooka at ready
Waiting on bended knee
He peers through the scope
With nothing to see
His comrades were moved
Quite a long time ago
He was left and forgotten
Or at least he thinks so
‘Til commander returns
He’ll remain at his post
But it’s the not knowing
That gets him the most
The seasons they come
And the seasons they go
It’s hot or it’s cold
But he doesn’t know
On guard, ever waiting
He sits motion free
In the crook of a branch
On a withered oak tree
Poised and patiently waiting
For something to blast
He wonders how long
His war’s gonna last
5 comments:
Man, that is a very good poem. Seriously. Great subject. Longing, futility, commitment, layers of meaning.
I'm serious. That's good stuff.
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LOL. Loved it. Have you presented that to your class? I'm sure they would love it as well.
Beautifully captured. Thank you for sharing.
[[here by way of RLP by way of a friend.]]
I loved this! As a kid, I used to play with these army men all day.
I hope you don't mind, but I posted this poem on my blog site. I gave you full credits and even provided a link to your site on my entry. Feel free to check it out.
www.belasera.blogspot.com
By the way, are you a third grade teacher? I teach third grade here in Phoenix and absolutely love it!
Happy New Year!
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