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Soldiers Blind



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Mon May 03, 2010 10:52 pm
captain.classy says...



If looks could kill,
I wish soldiers blind.
I wish for our flag
To shield their eyes from everything they’re fighting for.

It’s not the battle we should be afraid of, but the reason for the fight.
I wish not for our rolling hills or a golden horizon;
I wish them on someone else:

Does our moon take sides?
It shows its beauty to everyone who can see
And sheds its array on the darkness that needs light.
Why must we see nature’s pain, when it’s so easy to see its beauty?

Metal was not given to kill others;
Charcoal is not around to make fire that destroys;
Metal was made to hold a bed up for a dying child;
Charcoal was made to heat a starving person’s home.

You can see the crosses of every soldier blinded from life
By simply driving down the freeway.
Why do we live in a world where death is so apparent?

It’s like we do everything in our power
To show what death is to people who should never know…
Until it’s time.

I am blinded by the moon so I cannot see the good,
My eyes are shielded by all the useless hope surrounding me.
Nature has so much good to offer us,
But instead we strive to only see her pain.

It is in our nature to fight,
But is it in our nature to kill?

Yes, if looks could kill,
I would wish soldiers blind.

_______

I don't know why I wrote this...
  





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Mon May 03, 2010 11:25 pm
screamandshout says...



wow! i love this its so original
  





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Tue May 04, 2010 12:27 am
Elinor says...



Hi Sammi! As requested.

So, I really like this poem. It's got an interesting, original idea to it, and some of your poetry is just beautiful. I especially love this part:

Does our moon take sides?
It shows its beauty to everyone who can see
And sheds its array on the darkness that needs light.
Why must we see nature’s pain, when it’s so easy to see its beauty?


Lovely imagery and description. It gives us a much needed breather from the bloodshed/war theme of this poem while also being relevant and related.

One thing I would comment that you could improve on is your focus! While your idea is original and your rhythm is lovely, I couldn't really see much of a message from the context of the poem People die often. So? I think I know what you want to say, but you need to make it more apparent. Why does your narrator wish soldiers blind? I also think you should mention something about a lot of the innocent people who die in war, because often times soldiers just kill the people who try to kill them.

Maybe you could expand upon the idea of this poem so that it includes war, not just death. Actual death within a war is inevitable, so you'd be talking about the cause rather then the effect. Hope this helps! PM if you have any questions.

-Elinor xo

All our dreams can come true — if we have the courage to pursue them.

-- Walt Disney
  





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Tue May 04, 2010 8:09 pm
BFG says...



I really like your first stanza; what a powerful opening! I agree with Elinor that your focus could be improved. Another little detail to work on is your punctuation at the ends of lines, which sometimes made sense and sometimes didn't. Watch those colons and semi-colons.

One part I found very unconvincing was
Metal was not given to kill others;
Charcoal is not around to make fire that destroys;
Metal was made to hold a bed up for a dying child;
Charcoal was made to heat a starving person’s home.


I've been reading a lot of writing lately, it seems, that uses this idea of what things were "made for" or "made" to do, and I find it pretty unconvincing on the whole. Maybe it's because I'm an atheist, but I see no reason why metal is made for beds and not for guns, given that both are entirely human creations. I agree that the world would be a better place if metal were use for beds instead of guns, but I don't see the connection.

Anyway, it's a really interesting poem, if a little rambling, and I think you have lots of good ideas there!
Good luck!
Sophie
“It is one of life's bitterest truths that bedtime so often arrives just when things are really getting interesting.” - Lemony Snicket
  








Light griefs are loquacious, but the great are dumb.
— Seneca