Today’s poem is sort of special because it is one of mine. It is the first I wrote without the "pressure" of having to come up with something (e.g. for a class). I drafted it in March, did some work on it in September, and made some pretty big changes this morning between 3 and 4—the creative area of my brain works best in the middle of the night. It still does not feel completely right, after all, I am just a beginner. Therefore, any feedback is more than welcome.
Blood drenches the ground
Blood from soldiers, wounded or dead.
It gushes out of their punctured bodies
Onto the grass.
Dripping from the blades.
The soil soaks it up like a sponge
And nurtures hungry flowers and trees.
They feed on
The lifeblood of men
Soon, an innocent girl will
Play on these meadows, pick those flowers;
Take them home to her mom
And put a smile on her face;
Won’t know they grew strong
From the blood of a man.
The father of the boy
She will marry some day.
March 13, September 04, December 31, MMVI