Silence. Deadly, paranoid silence.

Silence. Deadly, paranoid silence.
It screams across the moors
and bashes itself against the moon.
It screams and screams in bloodlustful
agony, until you can feels it's very breath
against the back of your neck. The goosebumps
surfacing against your freckled arms.

You feel your feet walking across
the thousands of bloodied dead.
All of which have taken now a slightly
more appeasing view. Flowers.
You can hear their screams can't you!
You can feel their pain can't you!
The shrapnel buried within their very skull.
The doctor who tried to save everyone
but more where coming in than he had supplies.
And before long he was looking
at the heaped piles of dead.
Who's faces were now too blood drenched
and devil twisted to even invoke human sympathy.
Can you hear their screams still? In your silence.

You're crying? You're crying!
You are kneeling amoungst the thousands
of dead and all you do is cry. You
pray for our souls but they have already
gone. They're with the devil now. He who
was in an opposite trench so he was the enemy.
Can you hear the thunder.It's brother in arms,
lighning, slashes the skies
with elaborate streams of blue and white.
Scream. Go on then. Scream! See where it gets you,
you're fit for service so back to the front!
Object? Fine, see how you look with a white feather.

How can I speak to you? My name is - -
I am legion because I am many.
They say dying on your feet
is better than living on your knees.
But the problem with that is,
they can see you runon your feet.
We are lost. Medals on a grave will not fix
a broken heart. My mother wept and was
then part of a group. She was part of many.

We are the dead. We are only dead.
We fought for a cause we thought was right.
Were we wrong? My last sound was a scream.
My last fight was over. My name is now forgotten.
Now you know me as Poppy.
Ringing any bells? I thought not. . .


***
This is about a world war one soldier in spirit. Poppies are in reference to the poppies that grew on the battlefield (also mentioned as flowers) and it is kinda rembrance at the same time.

retrodisco666 wrote:Silence. Deadly, paranoid silence.
I like this scentence
It screams across the moors
and bashes itself against the moon.
It screams and screams in bloodlustful
agony, until you can feels it's very breath
against the back of your neck. The goosebumps
surfacing against your feckled Did you mean freckled here or did you mean something else?arms.

You feel your feet walking across
the thousands of bloodied dead.
All of which have taken now a slightly
more appeasing view. Flowers.
You can hear their screams can't you!
You cann feel their pain can't you!
The shrapnel buried within their very skull.
What does this have to do with flowers?
The doctor who tried to save everyone
but more where coming in thanmaybe put we here to make it read better had supplies.
And before long he was looking
at the heaped piles of dead.
Who's faces were now to blood drenched
This should read whose faces were now too blood drenched
and devil twisted to even envoke Watch out for those typo's, this should be invoke. Evoke means to bring to mind(Websters) and invoke means to appeal to(dictionary.com)human sympathy.
Can you hear their screams still? In your silence.

You're crying? You're crying!
You are knelt amoungst the thousands
This should read you are kneeling amongst the thousands
of dead and all you do is cry. You
pray for our souls but they have already
gone. They're with the devil now. He who
was in an opposite trench so was the enemy.
This line sounds strange
Can you hear the thunder.It's brother in arms,
lighningThis is spelled wrong., slashes the skies
with elaborate steamsDo you mean streams? of blue and white.
Scream. Go on then. Scream! See where it gets you,
you're fit for service so back to the front!
Object? Fine, see how you look with a white feather.

How can I speak to you? My name is - -
I am legion because I am many.
They say dying on your feet
is better than living on your knees.
But the problem with that is, they can see you run
on your feet.
We are lost. Medals on a grave will not fix
a broken heart. My mother wept and was
then part of a group. She was part of many.

We are the dead. We are only dead.
We fought for a cause we thought was right.
Were we wrong? My last sound was a scream.
We last fight was over.This should probably read Our last fight was over My name is now forgotten.
Now you know me as poppy.If you are using poppy as a name here, then it should be capitalized
Ringing any bells? I thought not. . .

I like your descriptions. Your poem needs some cleaning up, but not too much. Your poem flows nicely, although some parts were confusing. I suggest describing the silence a bit more because that's the title of your poem. Good work!

Thanks for the review!

You're welcome!

Hey retro! Sorry this took me so long. But I'm here now! C:

Silence. Deadly, paranoid silence.
It screams across the moors <-- I like this line quite a lot
and bashes itself against the moon.
It screams and screams in bloodlustful
agony, until you can feels it's very breath
against the back of your neck. The goosebumps
surfacing against your freckled arms.

You feel your feet walking across
the thousands of bloodied dead.
All of which have taken now a slightly
more appeasing view. Flowers. I think here, to avoid confusion, you could put a colon after view. Just a thought.
You can hear their screams can't you!
You can feel their pain can't you!
The shrapnel buried within their very skull. It should be "their very skulls," because each individual has his (i'd say "or her," but it's a poem about soldiers, and women aren't usually infantry) own skull, yes?
The doctor who tried to save everyone
but more were coming in than he had supplies.
And before long he was looking
at the heaped piles of dead.
Who's faces were now too blood drenched
and devil twisted to even invoke human sympathy.
Can you hear their screams still? In your silence.

You're crying? You're crying! I also love this line.
You are kneeling amongst the thousands
of dead and all you do is cry. You
pray for our souls but they have already
gone. They're with the devil now. He who
was in an opposite trench so he was the enemy.
Can you hear the thunder.It's brother in arms,
lightning, slashes the skies
with elaborate streams of blue and white.
Scream. Go on then. Scream! See where it gets you,
you're fit for service so back to the front!
Object? Fine, see how you look with a white feather.

How can I speak to you? My name is - -
I am legion because I am many.
They say dying on your feet
is better than living on your knees.
But the problem with that is,
they can see you runon your feet. I think you mean "run on" to be two words?
We are lost. Medals on a grave will not fix What's in bold is my favorite line.
a broken heart. My mother wept and was
then part of a group. She was part of many.

We are the dead. We are only dead.
We fought for a cause we thought was right.
Were we wrong? My last sound was a scream.
My last fight was over. My name is now forgotten.
Now you know me as Poppy.
Ringing any bells? I thought not. . .

All in all, I thought this was a really good poem. It flowed well, and your tone came across quite clearly. Of course, there could be a little more polishing, but you have a very solid foundation. I really liked this, and I hope my suggestions helped you.

Cheers!
Sporks