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War Torn

Rating: 4.4

Some remnant living in muscle memory
is pressed, dressed and polished each time
he marches, slowly now and with tired bones,
to the Legion for his Friday bingo.
His numbers, in all the years, haven't shown
as ex-corporal caller turns the wheel
and the same bally jokes revolve and drop,
snipered, on the half-deaf, half-dead, half-full
hall of pensioners with fat pens
and luckless grins whose week's entertainment

spins and tumbles. Someone checks. They groan.
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'Hey, you barsteward' takes the barkeeps wince for a smile. He re-enlists each Friday, soldiering on, wishing he might 'fall-out'. Surrender.

1 0 Reply
ROMAN 28 November 2017

just....just wow I love how you found a rhythm that suits the writing amazingly

4 1 Reply
Andy Konisberg 07 May 2005

great piece. I can find the rhythm here...it flows in a perfectly sentient way...it depends if one likes free verse an internal rhythms...I do...it has to with spondees, dactyls, et al.

4 3 Reply
Ivy Christou 03 May 2005

your last three lines, struck me there, in the heart... Especially the last, a lonely 'surrender' that it is so meaningful... very well done! HBH

5 3 Reply

Excellent poem encompassing all the senses. Particularly liked the ending. 'He re-enlists each Friday, soldiering on, wishing he might 'fall-out'. Surrender.' Well done James! Lots more please and which are you? When I click for more information there is a wealth of info about James Mills... so where are you from? You have obviously been writing for a while - your skill & experience shows.

2 2 Reply

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