fears….

the fear
reaching out
to find
only the satin of sheets

the fear
eyes open
to find a pillow
not you

the fear
with eyes wide open
you find
that i am
but a shadow
of your dreams

the fear
to walk
the world
without you

the watchmen waketh…

 

beneath the earth
the army of the dead
move in unison
to the rolling pitch
of the underground train
marching to the surface
passing the roach infested
dark alleys of shadow people
the ones who beg for alms
as the hollow souls scurry past
the army must stay its course
headed for their burial abodes
crypts of glass and polished steel
for they have bartered their souls
for transient wealth and fame
a bloodless coup of a nation
where only pleasures of the flesh
are considered worthy
but at night
curtains drawn
flickering news stories
of the anger
of those who sought alms
makes every shadow
move independently
on the walls
a creeping fear
that makes even
the dead
turn
in their
graves 

 

This poem represents my final response to  the third challenge series between Jade and I.  This challenge is somewhat different in that the prompt is now an audio prompt.  Each poet provides the other with five instrumental songs (so that the song’s words do not interefere with the poet’s) from which the poet is to write a poem.  Jade has written her first response which can be found here

but what can i do…

the sand of the sahara
fears no man
nor pay homage
to graven images
on walls of up-scale malls
nor will it listen to your
whimper of
but what can i do
for it is the undefeated army
that marches on your cities
and villages
salting not only the earth of carthage
but every parcel of land in its wake
and it shall not stop
until you wake from your sleep
and see that one man is never alone
there is always another
standing in the shadow of fear
hidden from your view
within the ancient ruins
of political rhetoric
but you
you
do not hear
the timeless voices of the desert spirits
imploring you to listen
to see the vision of the future
when all that you will know
will be sand
sand
holding the ashes
of every conqueror of this land
and every dreamer
who chose
not
to
act

north africa american cemetery…

 

these graves
have names i know
from towns i have seen
and streets all too familiar to me
but this place is tunis
and each white cross
stands guard on a soul
separated from its home
carried here in the hands of thor
like so many others to this land
that has known so many battles
since men began their conquest
of what each other had
or desired
but these souls
rest here
witnessing
a quest for peace
but their voices
cannot be heard
so war around them
continues
and their brethren
continue to die
and walk dead
among the streets at home
ignored like a passing shadow
on a clear day
and slaughtered
with shoot-to-kill orders
in the very land that they loved
and would have died for
but a land without mercy
or even questions
of why such actions are necessary
just another case of
i was only following
orders