'The Silent Fields Off Monastir Road... (Rp) Poem by Frank James Ryan Jr...fjr

One Augustide in Monastir, I journeyed-
to a graveyard thirteen scores in time,
where Indian souls spoke from their wood,
while their nemisis imbibed in Bordeaux.
Monastir Road is imbued in green fields,
home to thousands of warrior souls,
and yes, I marvel at Eiffel,
it's radiant spark of nightscape,
ostensibly reaching the Archers bow,
and I spin my goblet ever so gently
at the vineyards of quaintish Bordeaux;

War is a vice that supersedes
an overindulgence of grapes,
or attempts to scale a Tower,
there be no equal to the fact-
that From seventeen-fifty-four
to seventeen sixty three,
more than fifteen thousand soldiers
took rest in the green fields of France.

Supremacy is defined by dictionaire,
as owning ultimate power...
unequivocally, uncontestably,
and in War...dictorially.
Diplomacy can be defined
as the practice of employing a formula-
of communication, logic and wisdom,
and an absolute committed desire
to avoid the senseless anathema
of death, destruction and hopelessness.

Each night the lights of Eiffel shine
like the mid-day sun on diamonds;
while the goblets of cabernet are raised
at the vineyards of Bordeaux.
Life goes on...that be no dispute,
yet I question with great concern...
for the better or worse for tomorrows child?




FjR-MMXV