The sound of the shotguns, music of war:

sensory response poem, see picture for more.

  • (c) Danielle Parrish 2017

 

Lonely, cold, hurt, bold, calm.

The sound of battle fire – fear runs through the veins.

Crunch, leaves, forest, ash, blood.

I’m scared for my family, my friends and my welfare.

Boom, sizzle, pop, snap

The air was cool like the corpses rotting bodies void of souls, the sound of silence deafening as the soldier marched forward.

Frail hands glide over the old mahogany grand

Blood stained keys seep into the wood

That once stood in the parlour of a family’s antique home

Alone is stands, but is not alone in song

 

Silence, music, sound, out of tune, out of time – soft

 

The crackle of the shotguns,  poisonous to peace

Faces of the fallen, heroes and enemies weep

 

Second chances are futile as all is now done

On the battlefield of silence, only one song is sung.

 

A lonely feeling, no pain just numbness– all past tensions fall away into nothingness.

 

It was the eve of the end, the silence of the battleground. The air was cool like the corpses rotting bodies void of souls, the sound of silence defining as the soldier marched forward.

 

A clearing in the woods, musty and stale held secrets and sorrows of a past mans tale. The melody of serenity plays through the chilling air.

All is lost but hope is still there.

Frail hands glide over the old mahogany grand

Blood stained keys seep into the wood

That once stood in the parlour of a family’s antique home

Alone is stands, but is not alone in melody.

 

The crackle of the shotguns,  poisonous to peace

Faces of the fallen, heroes and enemies weep

 

Second chances are futile as all is now done

On the battlefield of silence, the only song is now sung.

 

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