Thursday, January 16, 2014

"Haunted"


Haunted

"A wounded shadow 
slips between stoic trees, silent canons.
Calls his loved one's name.

One bloody hand 
grasps a saber, the other's
eternally outstretched.

It's whispered 
this old battlefield's evening light 
plays games, its trickling brook a portal…"

We rustle through dampened, rotted leaves.
I insist we seek soldier's reflection;
chuckle as my kids scamper.

by Margaret Bednar, January 16, 2104  


These are a few images I took the other day of a nice walking/hiking place nearby - a small revolutionary battlefield that is now a National Park. 

This is linked with G-Man's "Friday Flash 55" - a story (or poem) in exactly 55 words - no more, no less and with dVerse "Meeting the Bar - Verbs!"  Tried to stay in present tense, use more verbs.  




24 comments:

Brian Miller said...

cool...we visit appomattox about every year....the courthouse, the battlefields...used to walk gettysburg about once a month as well when we lived near there...old battlefields are so stilling and so full of ghosts...

TALON said...

Beautiful shots, Margaret. And beautiful poem. There is something haunting about those places where life and death fought their battle.

kaykuala said...

It's so wonderful to be hiking and being mobile. I love the outdoors too with a bit of sweat and yes, the children would love it! Great pics and a wonderful write Marge!

Hank

liv2write2day said...

Wonderful experience. I visited and actually stayed at Gettysburg years ago but no ghosts. Great poem and photos.

G-Man said...

I knew what you were talking about, I'm a Battle Field addict.
Been to most of them...
Loved your Ghostly 55
Thanks for playing and taking the time to share your great insights Margaret....You Rock
Have a Kick Ass Week-End

kkkkaty said...

I like the trickling brook as a portal...nature provides U with unending verbs to delight or to haunt ;)

Susan said...

Hmm. A mother's laughter is an eerie thing. Very intriguing.

anthonynorth said...

Beautiful pics excellently described.

Gabriella said...

I like to visit historical sites and enjoyed your reflection on the battlefield, Margaret! I also liked how your last stanza brings us back to your lively boys.

Kathryn said...

Love the trickling brook as a portal.

Ronald Shields said...

How many soldiers have called their loved ones' names one last time? Your poem really evokes the feeling one gets visiting a battlefield...the pictures are a beautiful bonus.

Mary said...

I am sure there are phantom memories rising above that battlefield. I love your photos, and I also like the last stanza with the chuckle as the kids scamper, lightening the mood

razzamadazzle said...

This is wonderful! I love the photos too.

Claudia said...

i've never been on an old battlefield and i can imagine that it must be just a bit scary...so many stories that ended there...the victory and those that were not lucky enough to escape..

izzy said...

Hey that is a great reminder of the many souls whose energy likely flies
around! all the blood and torment shed. Love the photo's! hope you horses and family are all well!

Björn said...

The memories of old battlefields.. that's a bit scary to listen too.. still a haunting beauty lies there now.

hedgewitch said...

Those pictures are just amazing, Margaret...and your poem is a convincing mix of now and then, with kids as an exorcism working especially well. Looks like a lovely place to walk.

Wolfsrosebud said...

loved how you ended this...

Other Mary said...

Margaret, this is wonderfully haunting!

Nara Malone said...

You captured that creepy feeling I always get in places like that. It just seems so weird to go picnicking in a place where so many died.

sreeja harikrishnan said...

wow great snaps...and the poem is very interesting...it has a catching power....:-)

Akila G said...

such places talk volumes requiring a few moments of introspection esp around why! lovely piece!

Akila G said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Ginnie said...

Your images often leave me breathless, Margaret, and I mean that sincerely. How they fit your poems is the added frosing on the cake.