Wednesday, July 13, 2011

James Piatt - Three Poems

Sand Blown War

Scarlet dawn painted upon bloody faces,
icy winds over frozen white sand scars their minds,
bombs burn their flesh and sear their bones,

the agony of screams echo across the land,
thunderous salvos of hot lead scream in hot winds,
muted thunder of the war is heard in the far hills,

torn bodies are piled like wooden soldiers,
bloody and erect, no longer able to bend,
he who once lived now torn and lifeless,

he who once held another in his arms,
the man-child once held by his mother,
can no longer feel without his arms:

Letters written to his wife and children
telling of a hunger to be safe at home,
are sent by the others who lived:

The words and paragraphs smother
those who sadly sit alone in their grief,
as flag covered coffins march alone:

Fat pundits sit in their opulence
promoting the sons and daughters of others
to be slaughtered in the sand blown wars,

bankers and corporation CEOs planning
their stealth, while gathering gold and green trinkets,
hiding under plastic smiles, and glib euphemisms.

Flag Covered Coffins

Whence comes
the song for war’s
that strident music of
inside blowing sands
of a desolate and
alien land?
Where are
the beautiful petals
that perfumed
gentle Valleys and
Ocean shores?
Where is the
aroma which tenderly
caressed our senses
with scents of roses?
I now listen in sorrow
to haunted cries of
tearful women
wearily carrying
their death wail
hungering souls.
They sob under
screaming skies of hate
where ghostly ghouls
rise in
coral clouded
morns, and sing
arias of expedient
Mothers and lovers
shriek loudly
inside their minds
to the loved ones
the gory
destruction of
They pray for
a safe return,
but in the end
whimper a sigh
of bereavement,
silently watching
in agony
the sight of
flag covered coffins
arriving amid the
eerie paleness of
dark evenings.
When will we
there is no
no glory
or truth,
no justification for
When will our
Love for each other
Our hate for
Each other?

Should Anyone Worry

If no enchantment is found in our poems,
to entice the full moon from a far distance;
if a Narcissus cannot stay the whole year round,
in spite of its delightful aroma and beautiful bloom,
should anyone worry?

If hearts like ours, do not have the potency to grasp
a shining dream, nor thoughts pleasant and effortless;
if nothing can be seized for love or God;
if kisses cannot move a lover’s heart,
should anyone worry?

If the wasp should sting a blossom to death,
for one drop of honey for its hive;
if the falcon should break its airy plunge,
in addition, lose its life forever while diving,
should anyone worry?

If death is found on a shore, far away from home,
sadness clings to our hearts, and passions go longing;
if the lover’s moon grows fainter in the skies, while soldier’s
Vvnture from their doorsteps and never return,
should anyone worry?

If this weary world becomes forever changed
after this decade, and gets constantly grayer, colder,
nearer, to the motionlessness from whence it arrived;
if belief itself becomes paler, stiller, more bitter,
should anyone worry?

If tears dry up, and mirth becomes bizarre,
and if a soul mistrusts itself and weakens;
since men will be men and will never change,
moreover, because of this, will always fail,
should anyone worry?

And if the colorful flowers become a colorless pall
around our fresh graves when we cross over the edge,
moreover, after we have departed, if the spark falls short,
and passions devour the absurd world to its center,
should anyone worry?

James earned his BS and MA from California State Polytechnic University, and a doctorate from Brigham Young University. He has had over one hundred and twenty poems of different styles published in dozens of print and electronic poetry magazines, journals and anthologies.

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