“Machine Gun Anthems” The Sunday Whirl #120

Machine gun anthems
fire furious, redeemed
in splintered chasm;
concrete shakes this circling dance
peeled in pounding strain.

Unhealed women bow bleak sorrow,
chanting disarray:

“Starkened marrow
hitches dust-webs
on my blackened linen.”

Yellow fades my photographs
as masquerade moon
strays innocence.

Poison’s not passion nor arsenic’s allocate;
angry as a slivered strand of silk,
the wind strikes vision and rests tonight.

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13 responses to ““Machine Gun Anthems” The Sunday Whirl #120

  1. very nice. this is my first time joining this meme and I am excited about the inspiration.

  2. what a gritty poem…the machine gun anthem, shaking concrete…the unhealed woman bowing…layered very finely pamela…poisons not passion nor arsenic, i think is my fav line or the one that really jumped out at me…

  3. Gritty is the perfect word.

  4. How gritty and raw were the pictures you created in the readers mind with this piece.

  5. Gorgeous, descriptive writing, Pamela! Gutsy and REAL! That last stanza is a stunner.

  6. Grim, as all war can only be. Unhealed women is a fantastic image. How can one ever heal from the horrors of war?

  7. I’m trying to imagine the sound of the women “chanting disarray.” It shakes me to my foundations.

    A Short Whirl

  8. Yes, what everyone said! You show a

  9. A dense web of feeling there, Pamela.

  10. Dense and intense sensual imagery my friend. I especially like that last line.

    Elizabeth
    http://soulsmusic.wordpress.com/2013/08/11/on-the-down-swing/

  11. Yellow fades my photographs
    as masquerade moon
    strays innocence.

    A fake moon strays pleading innocence! That’s what really happens in the world today.The down-trodden gets hoodwinked and suffers to the glee of the powerful. It’s an unfair world out there. Great thoughts Pamelita!

    Hank

  12. Poison’s not passion… the immediacy with which machine guns and drones can change the landscape, let along people’s lives and limbs, is out of control. This is a darkly wise poem, Pamelita, darkly wise. Paz. Amelita

  13. love how the wind shakes everything you ever felt… as if you have unfurled a rug and out came a wind of quaking words…

I appreciate all comments.

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