Douglas Polk- Three Poems

A Fog

Iraq crumbles,

sacrifices made,

flaunted with disdain,

good and evil,

relative and illusionary,

lines in the sand,

disappear as the blood dries,

uncertainty and confusion reign,

the fog of war wafts over the countryside.

 

 

 

The Veteran

his resting place,
bare of flowers,
his headstone visible,
not the romance of an unmarked grave,
he fought the wars of our country,
then came home,
and fought for his life,
while his needs were ignored and unmet,
memories replayed,
and services delayed,
while the nightmare grew,
he started wasting away,
finally finding some rest,
and peace,
in this grave where he lay,
bare of flowers.

 

 

Art

art is communication,
a discussion among friends,
thoughts,
questions,
and emotions expressed,
from one to another,
alive and free,
traveling through time and space.