This cavalry ride,
This noble stride,
Stretch wide upon the earth—
Trembling thunder underfoot
Amidst the shadows lightening fall.
Death rides before the tip,
Death roars beneath the arrow scorn
And in the quailing devastation
Moves the seeds of their creation.
Bodies bloom like spattered roses
But from the agony of annihilation
Stirs the flowers–flourish,
Such color rises from silent gray
The mass is fallen
The light arise
Entangled limbs stretch toward the warm embrace
Soothed into the slumber
Of revival.
Ask not the ends
Ask the means—
What comes, shall come again
In one form or the next.
My latest contribution to the wonderful One Shot Poetry Wednesdays! Once you’ve had a look, check out some of the other One Shot Poets as well– they’re a skilled bunch of poets, looking to form a community and support one another. Enjoy!
The Waking Den 
i really liked this…i know it’s a different era but i so thought of the charge of the light brigade…and also the polish cavalry facing the might of Hitlers tanks with nothing but lances..to have the courage to charge knowing that the chances that that would be the very last thing you ever do must require so much from you…and then to have to do it again… thanks for sharing with One Shot
Sometimes we can do little but charge, regardless of the consequences. It is a sad, and grotesque thing for the rest of us to bear witness to, as it goes on and on into devastation, but such is war, and such is life. A pity.
Always a pleasure working with One Shot. Thanks for swinging by–and I look forward to seeing what people have coming up for the fall competition.
bodies bloom like splatered roses…wow. tight. i had the same feel as pete…charging into war…which makes the final stanza a pretty harrowing look at the future…not looking at what we are trying to accomplish just the how…again and again…nice one shot.
It is indeed harrowing, but it is as they say: history repeats, and more prevalently–the more things change, the more they stay the same. Glad you enjoyed it, and thanks for swinging through brian!
“Poppies bloom in Flanders Field” and the prayers go up..and our generation screamed, “NO MORE WAR” and there is no end of war. The young and beautiful dying and we still say, let there be peace on earth. It is the poets work to keep putting this in original works and this work, is indeed, very fine. The images are startling and the truth shines through.
Well done. Thank you.
So often we find ourselves saying, when we hear of these things from our parents, or our grandparents, “I cannot imagine living through such a time as that…” But we do. We always do. It may not always affect us the same, but war is an ever-present terror upon the world. It does not lurk, nor hide; it bares its fangs before the light, and yet for all our words to the contrary, we cannot cease its endless march.
We need to see it. To have it constantly put before our eyes. Lest we forget, lest we ignore–and the beast grows only stronger in our ignorance.
Thank you for reading, and for your words. Both mean a great deal.
oh wow!!! this was stunning!!! I first thought of genocide…and then the turn made me think of rebirth, the extended journey into life after death… all of that!!
A very powerful and chilling read! I was feeling a bit sleepy upto some time back, but I read this, and I am now all fresh and AWAKE!!!
Thanks for this one shot!! it’s just too good!
Why thank you Kavita! From death to life, that is indeed the trend–the inseparable pair. Glad the discussion of their shenanigans could rouse you from your slumber. Always nice to hear I’ve made the day more lively! Puts a smile on a guy’s face.
The philosophical underpinnings of this poem seem to depict the transformation of forms… “And in the quailing devastation / Moves the seeds of their creation.” Earth, bodies, flowers, seeds… “What comes, shall come again / In one form or the next.” Excellent, thought-provoking poem.
With change, comes growth. The death of one part of us, may mean the sprouting of life from other seeds. But there is always some pattern to it, some unchanging undercurrent to our world. As they say: the more things change, the more they stay the same.
Always a pleasure to hear from you, Dustus! Thank you for reading, and for hosting another wonderful One Shot Wednesday. Lot of great poems gone up this week, yours among them.
“Bodies bloom like spattered roses
But from the agony of annihilation
Stirs the flowers–flourish,
Such color rises from silent gray”
Beautiful lines of hope and better things to come, you write eloquently with such vivid reflections of life’s misgivings. A wonderful poem Chris~
Thank you, I’m glad you enjoyed it.
It begins in the darkness that is, presses into the hope of rebirth. All life is growth, and change, even from the darkest of hours. Too many forget that though, I think.
beautiful lines
Thanks!
“Entangled limbs stretch toward the warm embrace” such a beautiful line. Definitely brought thoughts within it. Gave me such a sense of “shape-shifting” in native culture to some level. Fascinating and very well done. Much enjoyed! ~April
Shapeshifting. Hmm, an interesting perspective. But it is true–this growth, this change, not necessarily death, but a shift of being, of life itself.
Glad you enjoyed, and thank you for commenting! It’s always great to hear from one so talented.
Powerful and made me think! Ask the means….I loved it. Thanks for sharing with One Shot xx
Always a pleasure sharing with One Shot, and having a look at the talented poets it draws, such as yourself. Thank you for the comment. I’m glad it spoke to you!
I agree with Gay. No matter the numbers, numbers of wars, numbers of dead, numbers of war protestors, number of peace slogans, it goes on and on and on.
“Bodies bloom like spattered roses” – that says it all.
Some things never change…
Thank you for reading!
A lament to war with the hope of change. Deep and powerful. Nicely done.