Back in October, the gentlemen who presides over the Poetry Society I attend, gave us an interesting challenge. The poem theme was color. At first I wasn't sure what to write or how to go about it until I reread a few passages concerning the battle of Stalingrad. This is what I came up with. Tomorrow, I'll add a few photos and some audio.
Or even the dark rick brown of a fresh,
No life stirs in the landscape.
Copyright@2013 LDDJ Enterprises Publishing Jeff Dawson
Ukraine 1943
The days have become endless.
No matter where I look,
I see nothing but white.
There is no identifiable landscape.
My mind pushes forth images
Of the past, attempting to
Recapture missing hues.
I dream to see, the greens of
Pasture grass, the stunning yellow of sunflowers,
Or even the dark rick brown of a fresh,
Tilled field.
Despite the most valiant attempts
To recreate a rainbow of fluorescence,
my eyes only see endless rows
of waxen terrain.
At times, an ashen face or body part
Protrudes from the frozen tundra,
Revealing a small blotch of dried magenta,
Reminding me how close death stalks.
My soul slumps with the endless snowy show.
No life stirs in the landscape.
The few comrades who survived the onrush
Of metallic giants, have since succumbed
To the frosted, blanched land.
For me, I care not whether I live or die.
I only wish for a glimpse of vibrant colors
Before this bleak, endless bleached land,
swallows me whole.
