Vietnam: The Final Salute
The once august glory which this empire abounds
The hallowed reverence of now gone victory resounds
Then boding silence haunts from eternity denounces
And over ghostly dells where anguish gains ground,
Thin retreating wars desert frayed promises of gold
Leaving exiles of men toss aside from fraternal holds
While fresh casualties push forth at the midnight tolls
And cunning hands charge still legion battles' scrolls,
In the rotting wounds through the violet time creeps
Of crumbling faith by which the armed marches keep
Scathing trumpets grind besides clashing swords deep
And distant letters reach home after dying men sleep,
Booming drumfire stirs slumbering innocence leaves
As fair damsels scurry round campaign-wrought armies
Proud fathers clasp anxious sailors back from the sea
And flying banners flutter by a tearful widow grieves,
Deftly uniformed guards escort flag-draped casket crate
Stowed enshrined corpse trundling past the steely gates
Within the breast of winter, the noble son returns too late
And honeysuckle trail imbues through the cargo inlaid,
Large drove of mourners trickle down the chapel's deck
Slender tail of winter frost pursues Death in its wakes
Waning sun slopes beyond the fractured icebound lake
And faint saffron light casts frail the solemn faces' ache,
Meander and gripe with baiting frowns the children fret
Silent forms in inky threads march on the pale grass wet
Echoing bells chime from some yonder vaulted oubliette
And startled the red-winged birds take flight a spectral red,
Scarlet coats salute three volleys atop the reverent hill
Beneath the quays of sorrow clinking bones softly keel
Flesh of their flesh turn to rot when the casket's lid seals
And olden pines skirt near the boneyard hauntingly still,
Battle-scarred men on knobby joints gasping icy smoke
Breathing in the perfumed air of the living, sun-filled soak
Entombed pulse of cascading dirt a murky torrent cloak
And quivering lips fall the faithful kisses on eternal stroke,
From under the restrained sky the bugle groans and heaves
As jarring hearts open their wings and soar the distant sea
The forlorn widow with mesh black veil and mascara bleeds
And oozing trail of teardrop hot, smears the sepulchered lea,
So past the picket fences where the bent dogwood moors
Shapes stir like revolving ghosts through the widow's doors
Then she peers in the bassinet of their laughing baby Paul
And how he might have loved seeing his sweet child crawl,
Ribbons twine his aged letters above the antique mantle bay
Warming balm of candle flames beyond grief's banquet lays
Hymnal notes dives and slides then scales on height of grace
And infant heeds the requiem psalm, eyes fix in wakeful stay,
Footsteps scuffle the oak floorboard audibly groaned nigh
As stony men with mangled limbs drag heavy their able sides
While the widow sets his livery rags, pressed skillfully light
And madness waits as grief empties outward her bleary eyes,
She slumps on the rocking chair hating fear and fearing all
As gulping sobs pool beneath the threadbare rotting walls
Here and there soft whispers caress the wandering footfalls
And hoarse evening chimes peal like long phantom's caws,
Yellow moon tangles with earth when darkness turns to glow
Tender leave of fading crowd parts ways by the edge of snow
Crystal flecks steal in huddled coats where mercy flounders low
And held down by bowing heavens of the fraught evening cold,
At the dip of eventide and upon their lonely bed she strokes
His flightsuit green looks faded moss by the fanlight's smoke
Darkly strong of face and brilliant cobalt eyes, he still evokes
And when the languid time will stir his homeward soul awoke,
With deaths born by waged battles from war-ridden scrawls
To the ugly lies that bury too deep why the late perished fall
While all the pointless costs of every death now mortals' war
And the countless doubts made ireful the grievance's shore.
by Contributing Poet Nia Nguyễn Rodé Copyright © 2015
VWP 2015 First published in VietnamWarPoetry.com
The once august glory which this empire abounds
The hallowed reverence of now gone victory resounds
Then boding silence haunts from eternity denounces
And over ghostly dells where anguish gains ground,
Thin retreating wars desert frayed promises of gold
Leaving exiles of men toss aside from fraternal holds
While fresh casualties push forth at the midnight tolls
And cunning hands charge still legion battles' scrolls,
In the rotting wounds through the violet time creeps
Of crumbling faith by which the armed marches keep
Scathing trumpets grind besides clashing swords deep
And distant letters reach home after dying men sleep,
Booming drumfire stirs slumbering innocence leaves
As fair damsels scurry round campaign-wrought armies
Proud fathers clasp anxious sailors back from the sea
And flying banners flutter by a tearful widow grieves,
Deftly uniformed guards escort flag-draped casket crate
Stowed enshrined corpse trundling past the steely gates
Within the breast of winter, the noble son returns too late
And honeysuckle trail imbues through the cargo inlaid,
Large drove of mourners trickle down the chapel's deck
Slender tail of winter frost pursues Death in its wakes
Waning sun slopes beyond the fractured icebound lake
And faint saffron light casts frail the solemn faces' ache,
Meander and gripe with baiting frowns the children fret
Silent forms in inky threads march on the pale grass wet
Echoing bells chime from some yonder vaulted oubliette
And startled the red-winged birds take flight a spectral red,
Scarlet coats salute three volleys atop the reverent hill
Beneath the quays of sorrow clinking bones softly keel
Flesh of their flesh turn to rot when the casket's lid seals
And olden pines skirt near the boneyard hauntingly still,
Battle-scarred men on knobby joints gasping icy smoke
Breathing in the perfumed air of the living, sun-filled soak
Entombed pulse of cascading dirt a murky torrent cloak
And quivering lips fall the faithful kisses on eternal stroke,
From under the restrained sky the bugle groans and heaves
As jarring hearts open their wings and soar the distant sea
The forlorn widow with mesh black veil and mascara bleeds
And oozing trail of teardrop hot, smears the sepulchered lea,
So past the picket fences where the bent dogwood moors
Shapes stir like revolving ghosts through the widow's doors
Then she peers in the bassinet of their laughing baby Paul
And how he might have loved seeing his sweet child crawl,
Ribbons twine his aged letters above the antique mantle bay
Warming balm of candle flames beyond grief's banquet lays
Hymnal notes dives and slides then scales on height of grace
And infant heeds the requiem psalm, eyes fix in wakeful stay,
Footsteps scuffle the oak floorboard audibly groaned nigh
As stony men with mangled limbs drag heavy their able sides
While the widow sets his livery rags, pressed skillfully light
And madness waits as grief empties outward her bleary eyes,
She slumps on the rocking chair hating fear and fearing all
As gulping sobs pool beneath the threadbare rotting walls
Here and there soft whispers caress the wandering footfalls
And hoarse evening chimes peal like long phantom's caws,
Yellow moon tangles with earth when darkness turns to glow
Tender leave of fading crowd parts ways by the edge of snow
Crystal flecks steal in huddled coats where mercy flounders low
And held down by bowing heavens of the fraught evening cold,
At the dip of eventide and upon their lonely bed she strokes
His flightsuit green looks faded moss by the fanlight's smoke
Darkly strong of face and brilliant cobalt eyes, he still evokes
And when the languid time will stir his homeward soul awoke,
With deaths born by waged battles from war-ridden scrawls
To the ugly lies that bury too deep why the late perished fall
While all the pointless costs of every death now mortals' war
And the countless doubts made ireful the grievance's shore.
by Contributing Poet Nia Nguyễn Rodé Copyright © 2015
VWP 2015 First published in VietnamWarPoetry.com
Bio: Nia Nguyễn Rodé has one flash fiction published in Deltona Howl and two poems
published online with the literary journals, Thought Notebook and Earl of Plaid Lit.
She lives in California where she is a wife & a stay at home mom to two wonderful children.
published online with the literary journals, Thought Notebook and Earl of Plaid Lit.
She lives in California where she is a wife & a stay at home mom to two wonderful children.
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