One More Dead Soldier

I drop one more dead soldier in the bin.
The Lord of the lsles, an amber song-smith;
whose meter, like a burn over pebbles,
gave wings to my own nocturnal verse.

A smoke-rich, peaty, heady broth it was.
The lees of which I threw into the bowl
In imitation of the rite of Kottabos,
The drunken calling of a lover’s name.

It rubbed away the pain for me;

Writ large upon my shrivelled soul.
etched deep within my moribund heart.
smarting, stinging, cleansed in fire.

The life it brings is short and sweet.
Defeating as it surely will all traces of a life fulfilled,
replacing raw feeling with well-finished memory.

The pleasure’s in the bite, behind the throat.
The measure of the malting in it’s depth.
And quietly, in reflection, sitting comfy in my chair;
I reach and pull the cork out of another.

© franciman 2023
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critique and comments welcome.
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Deep poem, great opening and links back to the roman/greek game, but I could not reconcile “the pain” with “the traces of a life fulfilled”

The last verse pulls me back into the reflective theme, and reminds me that i have a malt with my name writ upon it.



A really good poem Jim. I have read this one before but cannot see my comments.
You must have reposted this one. It deserves to be read much more. BTW where is my fav one about the war widow? I want to nominate it
Alison x


Did I recite that and send it to you?
I cannot remember

If you want to send me the poem I will recite it and send it back so you can add it yo the poem on Monday

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