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Poetry Magnum Opus

X'mas Love?


JoelJosol

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There was love in No Man's Land. You don't ask,

what is war? what is killing you for?

The answers were confusing for politicians.

 

There were no stars but lacking GPS was not

a disability. Each one found his way to peace,

in an enemy's laughter.

 

But it was not a funny word, slaughter.

A bullet pierced though a Christmas card,

after the carols were sung

 

and soldiers were pulled away from peace,

were poured together like a mixture

on a holy cup.

 

Could this be the end of things? To the enemy, dead,

one said, 'I had wished him a merry christmas.'

 

I had been sickly this month. I will try to catch up with you guys this week once my cough and colds subside soonest. Glad to be back.

Edited by JoelJosol

"Words are not things, and yet they are not non-things either." - Ann Lauterbach

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Good thinking. The third stanza is nearly unexceptional.

 

And I am glad you are glad to be back. Not that you could be really away, not in our thoughts.

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Another contemporary sonnet, Joel. The form complements the poignant content well. I, personally, would like to see their in L5 changed to his.

 

I'm glad you're back. I hope you feel better soon.

 

Tony

Here is a link to an index of my works on this site: tonyv's Member Archive topic

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The significance and quality is undeniable, but I fail to see the rationale for calling it a sonnet.

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Thanks for the feedback, guys.

 

Waxwings, I revised the third stanza to improve it.

 

Tony, I took your suggestion. Here I tried playing with the etymology and associations of the word 'war' and built a poem out of it - confusion, disability, middle, bullet and mixture. It was inspired by the Christmas Truce of 1914.

Edited by JoelJosol

"Words are not things, and yet they are not non-things either." - Ann Lauterbach

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Joel, I hope now you are better and it's wonderful to see you back with us and to enjoy your poetry as always.

The title is puzzling with the questioning mark and the body of the poem fits the expectations.

 

Lovely poem and touching a lot.

 

Aleksandra

The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth - Jean Cocteau

History of Macedonia

 

 

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