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.
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...
ReplyDeleteBeautiful shots, Margaret. And beautiful poem. There is something haunting about those places where life and death fought their battle.
ReplyDeleteIt'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!
ReplyDeleteHank
Wonderful experience. I visited and actually stayed at Gettysburg years ago but no ghosts. Great poem and photos.
ReplyDeleteI knew what you were talking about, I'm a Battle Field addict.
ReplyDeleteBeen 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
I like the trickling brook as a portal...nature provides U with unending verbs to delight or to haunt ;)
ReplyDeleteHmm. A mother's laughter is an eerie thing. Very intriguing.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful pics excellently described.
ReplyDeleteI 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.
ReplyDeleteLove the trickling brook as a portal.
ReplyDeleteHow 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.
ReplyDeleteI 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
ReplyDeleteThis is wonderful! I love the photos too.
ReplyDeletei'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..
ReplyDeleteHey that is a great reminder of the many souls whose energy likely flies
ReplyDeletearound! all the blood and torment shed. Love the photo's! hope you horses and family are all well!
The memories of old battlefields.. that's a bit scary to listen too.. still a haunting beauty lies there now.
ReplyDeleteThose 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.
ReplyDeleteloved how you ended this...
ReplyDeleteMargaret, this is wonderfully haunting!
ReplyDeleteYou 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.
ReplyDeletewow great snaps...and the poem is very interesting...it has a catching power....:-)
ReplyDeletesuch places talk volumes requiring a few moments of introspection esp around why! lovely piece!
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ReplyDeleteYour images often leave me breathless, Margaret, and I mean that sincerely. How they fit your poems is the added frosing on the cake.
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