Bullets are measured by caliber.
The smaller ones kill by breaking an artery.
The magnum is fired,
Flat,
On its side or,
Pumped in both hands,
Gangster like.
Diameters count.
Point fifty.
These take entire body parts with them.
Legs and hearts and so forth.
The will to survive on the airstrip,
Is tempered only by,
The need to see the flag,
Come home when you can and,
Let me nurse your pain.
♦photo – Reuters/USAF♦
Simply beautiful.
You write lovely poetry.
“Bullets are measured by caliber.
The smaller ones kill by breaking an artery.”
(beautiful)
As ex-military, I had to take a second to really think about what you meant in this poem. And that’s one of the things that I think poetry should do. It’s not enough to just blindly wander through life. We should take the time to really see whats going on around us and from there act as much as possible. You’re definitely right that most people just see the uniforms, the salutes, and the glory parts of war. Most don’t think too deeply into the fact that bullets cause damage. Good write
Thank you for that. I was caught between the sentimentality and what there really is. I have a lot of feeling for service people and their families, wherever their from, wherever they are serving. I’m learning that I really do care about this.
Thanks for visiting me and for your birthday wishes.I’m very glad to have returned the visit, because it feels like I’ve found something quite unique here in this very poignant poem.
maybe there are better ways for the need to see the flag
Hello, Kolembo. Thank you very much for your comment at my site. It’s nice to meet you. Your poem is powerful and moved me in many ways.
The backside of war is shown by bullets that take body parts and lives. This side is not shown enough. What is seen are the salutes, crisp uniforms, and parades. Very intense poem.
am amazed at how you choose your topics, then your subjects. leaves me ….uuummm… questioning, appreciative and answered.
Love the attention to detail
you see NEED ‘…The need to see the flag,’
Lovely read Kolembo
The aftershock of war takes no prisoners. A very powerful poem (and thank you for visiting my blog… so pleased you liked my poem too).
So very intense,the sad truth.
Indeed strong poetry!
Peace to you,
Laz
It is a true gift to be able to evoke such strength of feeling without going near the heart-strings. You’ve outdone yourself again.