MARY BURTENSHAW'S PAINTING: 'GOING DOWN OF THE SUN'... A NEW POEM...

 Going Down Of The Sun…

(from Mary Burtenshaw’s painting…)

Reserve trench. Pipe lit.

Tobacco’s aroma dulls the stink of death,

Temporarily.

Mud-caked boots. Puttees loose.

Sweet tea dulls the stale bitter breath,

Invariably…

And slowly the sun goes down.

And tears slip from my frown.

For the sinking sky daubs

The conflict, whilst the horizon absorbs

The smoke and the gas in greys a-billowing,

The fields of no-man’s-land in green a-wallowing;

A shrapnel cloud of russet hangs a-hovering,

A fiery deluge of orange and yellow burns, unwavering;

The blood from casualties lingers red and simmering

And inescapable death lies black and glimmering…

Reserve trench. Pipe lit.

Tobacco’s aroma veils my dues to death,

Temporarily.

Stubble-raked face. Mindset obtuse.

Sweet love dulled by war’s corrupt breath,

Irreversibly…

Pete Ray

November 2020

 

Love this painting.

Really made me think…