Battlefield, Night

War -- any war -- maims and kills those who do battle (whether 'by choice,' or otherwise). These are not "troops," but human beings. Battlefield, Night is about them, not about Iraq or any other war, per se. Wars kill and maim. The maiming

The boy who hopes to paint
a masterpiece
{still a boy, make no mistake}
calms by letting himself be awed
by phosphorescent flashes
gorgeous as a blood-red sun,
saving a particular orange
and that peculiar green
edging a 4th-of-July stunner
for his repertoire, already
daubing them in his mind
between Mars black and that
color with the name it pains
him to pronounce. On the tip
of his tongue when the shell
hits.

 

The boy who hopes to race
in the Indie 500 — just wait –
compares the racket to that
of a speedway. Crowd roars
its approval as he rounds the last
curve, going all out, but then
in the blind spot something spins
him out. That is when
the noise dies.

 

The girl {I see her as a girl}
who craves to be a doctor –
surgeon, actually –
mentally bandages a tear
in a gunfire-split sky
and shouts orders for morphine
and plasma stat. Good
she’ll never know what happened
next.

 

The boys, the girls, the men, the women,
lie, squat, roll, crawl, bog down in muck
under fire beautiful enough to
hurt. All the time hoping
for a break so they have a chance to
see dawn.

 

(c) Phyllis Jean Green, 2008

Reviews

[Eagle Cruagh]

Your poem is a delicate excision of the
meat of conflict and the vapors of strife.
Having served in many wars, both private
and global I have thoughts about your
subject , but will reserve them for another
time.
I am very impressed by this writing, it is tender
and sweet and deals with the most viscious
behavior yet devised by man, war. You have
handled this subject so well. You are a true
professional and an artist.
My Favorite !
Rate: 100 %
---- Eagle Cruagh

[Traces]

My dear Phyllis, you have written such a gut-wrenching piece of work that brings tears to the eyes, and a ache in the inner soul of man. Holly

[Berserker[Diktator Von ..]

I really liked this one..it is all too real to life..You did a great job with this piece...

[[untitled]]

Superb ...... absolutely superb and done with fine-tuned knowledge.

[Adela Muresan]

This is such a cruel truth - that ideals often remain simple dreams . You choose a very good theme.

I think you should have written it in a more special font, and maybe reduce the last strophe to the last three verses.

**** Poem � nicely done.

A.M.

[Michael X]

Aww.. this is nicely done.. i think you did a great job at relaying subtle messeges..
there is something about this writing i love.. its the wisdom entwined in the imagery
the messege that speaks insight to the readers heart.. its like i can read it over and over
and the meaning will keep building.."the boy who paints masterpieces"..speaks valumes

[Ron B]

An excellent and moving poem. I enjoyed it very much.

[Becca]

Thank you and Amen... I am passing this beautifully written piece on to friends who will also truly appreciate your heart and words.