POETRY FORMAT, 9 Jun 2014
I walked upon the battlefield
and saw a grotesque scene revealed:
the corpses there, both friend and foe,
all formed a sort of weird rainbow.
The enemy and our men too–
some bled dark red and some bled blue.
The blood of others was bright green–
a stranger sight I’ve never seen.
When bullets mowed doomed soldiers down
blood sometimes came out rusty brown,
and who would in their right mind think
the blood of many would be pink?
Oh what a gross, macabre sight–
to see men bleeding black and white,
and on the ground where bodies lay
I saw big blotches of dark gray.
Around this place of pain and woe
some sprawled in pools of indigo,
and where brave fighters their ends met
were yellow stains and violet.
How sad that young lads had to lose
their lives in puddles of chartreuse.
I thought it simply could not be
that orange blood would flow so free.
In places there was purple blood—
at first a stream, and then a flood,
and youths shot down in life too soon
bled for their nations dark maroon.
Although they many colors bled
they share one fate: they all are dead.
Tom Greening: “I engage in five professional activities:
Faculty Member at Saybrook University
Private Practice of Psychotherapy
Clinical Professor of Psychology, UCLA
International Editor of the Journal of Humanistic Psychology
This article originally appeared on Transcend Media Service (TMS) on 9 Jun 2014.
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