Archive for persona

Dawn 1945(a persona poem)

Posted in Poetry, revolution, Uncategorized, War, writing with tags , , on January 12, 2016 by Graeme Cooper

Grey light creeps across the ashen paving

With purpose as deadly as the foreign boots

Of the infantrymen who hide still

In the suburbs of Berlin.

 

The new sun interrogates us who are left,

The morning breeze lifts fallen banners,

Insinuating shame underneath.  As if,

They have the right to question!

 

The Fuhrer will pound his fist and defy

The very air to bring its scorn near

Our glorious purpose.

 

But this morning,

He is dead.  All is dead.

 

The proud promised future is litter

and ash and I

Stand, as if naked,

In this cold dawn, listening

for the whisper of tanks.

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