by Thing Two » Sat Mar 02, 2013 7:47 am
@Resin: wow . . . thats awsome! i wouldnt of thought to do somthing like that, thats an awsome interpretation!
well, heres mine:
the sound of trumpets pierced the evening,
to spare a moment for the grieving,
The white bloders scattered the lawn,
Mother, wives and daughters, left all forlaun
Blood no longer oozes from the ground,
the woman weeping, the only sound,
Popies watch the larks take flight,
as one imagines that awful night.
The beach was cramped, a sardeen tin,
apon the barren lands,
The moon, a slice of white light,
slipping through their hands,
The sea, an endless pool of blood,
the cliffs rose to the fight
And the soldier came creeping -
creeping - creeping -
the soldier came creeping,
through the ash of night.
He'd a baret on his forehead,
A khaki collor at his neck,
A shirt of camo green and brown,
His drowned trousers were a wreck:
Brown with mud and sand;
His boots up to the knee!
His eys a bloodshot red,
His bayonet dipped in red,
His blood pumped fast and red, as he begged him self not to flee.
the style of the poem after the poppy line is from 'the highway man' i did it in class last year but i have tweaked a few parts to make them better.
❝Well open up your mind and see like me
Open up your plans and damn you're free
Look into your heart and you'll find love love love love
❝ I guess what I be saying is there ain't no better reason
To rid yourself of vanities and just go with the seasons
It's what we aim to do, our name is our virtue
-Jason mraz, I'm yours
❝ You don't get to choose if you get hurt in this world, old man, but you do have some say in who hurts you. I like my choices. I hope she likes hers.
-Augustus Waters