a soldier at night celebrates his 68th birthday
fiction
edward w pritchard
the night is clear but
the Moon is always at the quarter
a soldier lost in dark night celebrates his 68th birthday
his fingers aching from scratching at the hard frozen earth to bury himself
in for cover from angry low flying rifle bullets
randomly fired by unseen enemies
oh for a tattered flag or soft woman to
wrap himself in until next light
Monday, February 17, 2020
Friday, February 14, 2020
a walk in Istanbul
a walk in Istanbul
fiction
edward w pritchard
Sometimes in my imagination I'll take a walk in Istanbul and sometimes I'll just watch somebodies walking tour of modern Istanbul on the you tube. Either way along with my awe of seeing the blue Mosque I like to see the beautiful stately Muslim women who are intriguing in their scarves and veils.
Rather than Istanbul a poetic type is supposed to call it Byzantium which for some reason is supposed to be no county for old men. Whatever the ancient city is called I enjoy seeing representations arranged of the Iznic tiles at the Topkapi palace and blue Mosque.
At night waking from dreams sometimes I'll imagine seeing Coptic and Byzantine iconic paintings of
Jesus in the churches of pre-Muslim Istanbul. Other times I am a Muslim soldier with Sultan Mehmed in 1453 staring across the battlefield at the high fortified walls of Byzantium at night wishing I was elsewhere.
An old man at night staring across the milky way a bit reluctant to storm the walls and carry off a little treasure.
fiction
edward w pritchard
Sometimes in my imagination I'll take a walk in Istanbul and sometimes I'll just watch somebodies walking tour of modern Istanbul on the you tube. Either way along with my awe of seeing the blue Mosque I like to see the beautiful stately Muslim women who are intriguing in their scarves and veils.
Rather than Istanbul a poetic type is supposed to call it Byzantium which for some reason is supposed to be no county for old men. Whatever the ancient city is called I enjoy seeing representations arranged of the Iznic tiles at the Topkapi palace and blue Mosque.
At night waking from dreams sometimes I'll imagine seeing Coptic and Byzantine iconic paintings of
Jesus in the churches of pre-Muslim Istanbul. Other times I am a Muslim soldier with Sultan Mehmed in 1453 staring across the battlefield at the high fortified walls of Byzantium at night wishing I was elsewhere.
An old man at night staring across the milky way a bit reluctant to storm the walls and carry off a little treasure.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)