BATTERED BRIDAL BOUQUET

BATTERED BRIDAL BOUQUET

June 1, 2014 Off By Fried Guest

With this poem we come to the end of the series of Poet Les Bush’s poignant anthology – Chaoes, Chance and Choices. and we are grateful to him and honored for choosing Fried Eye to showcase them.

 

Poet Les Bush writes about the poem- This variation of the poem came to me while I was driving my daily journey (via Waimauku) to Helensville. On arrival, I visited my regular coffee shop, sat in the sun and wrote it down in my notebook; and worked on it when I got home. For me, it is a study in form and energy; without, I hope, diluting the energy of previous incarnations.Is it the end of my journey, of personal and poetical discovery on this theme? Time will tell. In another 30 years, maybe; until then …..

 8457_wpm_lowres

 

Battle over: Death

Destruction and Despair;

huddled group, empty eyes,

await their worst fear.

 

Had it been the darkest night,

not the break of day,

they might have blamed their lack of sight;

might know what to say.

 

The brightest, the best,

no more aware than the rest –

lost in confusion, numbed,

needing rest.

 

Such a long battle,

so much energy expended.

Is that Death’s rattle?

Is this how it is ended?

 

They squabble, bicker,

blame and dispute

over who is the thicker,

concerned for their repute.

 

The voice of Reason is not enough;

The Muse, the artist has fallen short;

 

The Soldier? He just knows his stuff.

Argue, argue, without a thought.

 

In the end, it’s simple, the least

will ascend, to lead and admonish

– to focus, and say “I am the Will”, rest

and reassemble, gain your strength, refresh!

 

Battle over, the War is not:

always be another, live

and learn; don’t count the cost.

Gain from experience, give

 

and share with others;

individually, we are lost;

a child without a mother;

collectively we are strong.

 

Battle cry? Oh, no;

it’s more of a grateful sigh;

hear bird singing, beautiful,

before launching into a sky

 

so radiant blue, kissed

by golden sun; feel the grass

beneath your feet, the wind.

There is hope, progress.

 

Hold high a battered bridal bouquet,

proclaim a heart felt “Hallelujah”!

You might not know the words to say,

I will try and sing them to you”

 

Les Bush

5 April 2013

We welcome your comments at letters@friedeye.com