THE GLORY MEADOW
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THE GLORY MEADOW
by thepoetryman
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The warrior tilted her face
The warrior tilted her face
In the groan of fine bravery;
A ferocious battle well fought
Leaving such empty pleasure.
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There were no such dignities.
Rain slanted its gleaming lances
Upon the backscattered skies
In refractions glory meadow.
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Reflecting upon the dulled luster
The warrior’s fingers grew damp
And, in apprehensive assembling,
Did discharge her bludgeoning.
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O! Divine glory! Phenomenon!
Transport their gaze to wonder’s face!
Call out to them! Reaffirm “peace”!
Shift them nearer to beauty's grace!
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Upon the backscattered sky we lean.
Of the bludgeoned warrior we howl.
Upon the divinity we beseech,
“Bring their spirits home!”
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Inspired by Quasar9
