Poetry

steven cooke


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1 february 2012

Ghosts of War

Within the fog of did you
see?

An old woman, made up to
the nines

Can be seen in the corner
of the non-believers eye

Purse in hand and a glass
of wine

Waiting for a lover who
never comes


Just shadows on the wall
Whispering names, through
Spiders silk, the
inheritors

Of this forgotten,
debutants ball


While Portraits glare at
vacant laughter

An echoed waltz swirls
The embrace of loves decay,
Images now jailed within
the Crystal shards

Of a fallen chandelier

A tear of Woman wears
mourning face well,

This vigil Mask hiding mortality
lost

Now broken and marking
time,


Love lies lost in the
barbed wire of war

Fallen stars to shine no
more

Their Remembrance merging
into darkness

Behind a cloudless unforgiving
sky


Alone is the corpse in
cratered field

Covered by poppies blood
Walked on by ghosts to
come


Another Whispered soul is roaming
The guns have left their
post

And Peace is just an
illusion

For yet another Flanders
ghost


This cruel winter’s night
The withered rose has lost
its fragrance

The champagne has all gone
flat

And love calls without an
answer


For silence is the memory
And it is we
Who walk hand in hand
With our ghosts of War?







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