Thursday, May 06, 2010


On my back the heat of pockmarked adobe.
Before me, rifles stare with black pupilless eyes.
At my feet the trench exhales dirt smell.
Beyond are scarlet anemones.

In six minutes they will fire
and we will fall like blossoms
before scythes at harvest.
In five minutes they will fire
and we will fall forward into darkness.
The thirsty earth will crimson with blood.

You will never find my bones.
By spring I will have risen like a whirlwind of dust.
By spring I will have risen like a field of anemones.
You will not find me in this mass grave.

In four minutes they will fire
and set me free.
Three minutes more of Lorca,
then an eternity of anemones.

--for Big Tent's first prompt: Persona poem.
Image courtesy of Wikipedia.
Collection available! Knocking from Inside


Dale said...


Anonymous said...

Ah, that is fine. Defiance and beauty.

brenda w said...

Beautiful and tragic...I love your used of crimson as a verb!

Cassiopeia Rises said...

This is excellent. Wonderful and powerful images. Sad but vivid with thought and life.


Anonymous said...

Wow intense and powerful...that last stanza haunting.

Linda Jacobs said...

Oh, I love the last stanza, too! And the photograph really accentuates your words!

Deb said...


Thank you for participating in Big Tent Poetry!

Author Amok said...

Wow! Beautiful, powerful, historical poem. Thanks for sharing it.

Unknown said...

Tragic though the story may be your poem adds to Lorca's legend, especially with that eternity of anemones. Beautiful.

Anonymous said...

wonderful build-up (count down) to the end. thanks for joining the circus! :)

Jessica said...

What a gorgeous poem. I especially like the ending lines and the use of crimson as a verb.

Tumblewords: said...

Strong and glorious. Love 'crimson' as a verb.

Linda said...

A powerful last line—well earned.


Joyce Ellen Davis said...

This is terrific -- as is ALL your poetry!