The Dreaming

4 Comments

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  • Emotional

    The Dreaming

    I was sure I had fallen asleep

    The uniform I was wearing; pressed, polished and with no Irish pennants.

    I was standing in my old unit.

    All new faces. I was not known.

    I walked through the hall and all moved right or left of my center.

    My eyes glanced to see the butter bars on my corners.

    What in the hell.

    I now wake, walking forward in the Valley Of Death with my brothers from old.

    We walk, we walk, we see, we move, we fight, we die, we retreat.

    As I walk

    The percussion and blast do not move me too knee, yet turn me.

    I see there is no way out.

    Hope, faith, belief is diminished in my desire to live.

    I am in Katie’s home

    We must go now I say, the enemy is near.

    Katie leave the animals behind.

    K’s response is slow and inactive to the moment and danger.

    I must strip myself of all I know now.

    I must walk a path of being else.

    For the enemy has overcome through the valley of Death.

    They are here and I will be over there.

    Until I return.

     

    Written by

    Dale Edward Van Oxon

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    Jayandben commented on The Dreaming

    08-16-2009

    I love how you explain the thoughts. Very discriptive.

    teasasue commented on The Dreaming

    08-15-2009

    ok please forgive me for this one it kinda had me confused, I think he is having flash backs and or nightmares of what he has seen and is worried for his family and friends. The writting itself is well done. Thank you for letting me read it

    Pat007 commented on The Dreaming

    08-15-2009

    Edward Am2anAngel describes this poem best. As for the other two poems I read, Expectant Death and Marriage; I think you have a very unique way of writing. Personally I like it. But not everyone will. Just remember that these are your expressions and you do so as you wish. Thanks for sharing.

    am2anangel commented on The Dreaming

    08-15-2009

    An interesting perspective and view of a soldiers somewhat confused and unsure thoughts. Well done. I enjoyed this piece and its discriptive metaphors.

    EdwardVanOxon

    08/15/2009

    ty

    Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

    Unknown Source

    EdwardVanOxon’s Poems (8)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    It Is Your Choice 7
    How does one find words to beat his wife 15
    The knife 4
    The Father and The Mother 2
    The Expectant Death 5
    Marriage 4
    When One Says to Another 4
    The Dreaming 4