Hold’em high

Soldiers march across the great divide, holding up their torches high.

Fighting back the encompassing night. 

They march shoulder to shoulder, across the sky.

They cannot win. But still they fight. 

Each year their numbers greater. 

More torches bring more light.

Some are broken; can’t hold their torches straighter.

Others march with all their might. 

No rest for the dead, hoisting their mast

as they hold their torches high.

Death knows no cast,

when you meet Davey Jones of the sky. 

http://livingpoetry.net/2025/11/03/november-visual-poetry-prompt-8/

Published by Chico’s Mom

Thanks for visiting. My blog has lots of different styles: drawing, painting, photography, stories and poetry.

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