The Lady With The Lamp



Bloody bunkers, cloth raptured in tears and sweat,
soldiers asleep, shivering from their regret,
eyes tightly closed, clenched fists of the brave,
she is an angel in this dormitory of pain,
keep watching until their suffering wanes

The Lady With The Lamp makes her rounds,
her rag of a dress glides, her feet make comforting sounds,
she brings to them water and kind word,
nursing them with food and liquid and empathetic eyes,
singing sweet songs and tales of family ties

Hearts beating weakly in the shield of the night,
soldiers struggling to stay alive with all of their might,
shallow breaths, death knocking at the door,
out of the darkness shines the dancing flickers of her lantern,
the dim light of hope in the hollows of the tavern

When she's no longer even a memory, and just a name,
written down in history books of her kindly fame,
God bless each soldier now and then,
she'll visit them and bring them safe to shore,
pulling them from the memories of war.

In the halls of the dying where the soldiers lie,
going in and out of consciousness with groans and sighs,
death's rapping on the door, he calls their names,
the pain in their stomachs waves and cramps,
and in comes the angel of the dying, the seraph of hope
The Lady With The Lamp.
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Submitted by pppoopoo123 on August 08, 2017

Modified on March 05, 2023

1:08 min read
9

Quick analysis:

Scheme AAXXX BBXCC DDEFF GGXEE XCXXXX
Closest metre Iambic hexameter
Characters 1,226
Words 226
Stanzas 5
Stanza Lengths 5, 5, 5, 5, 6

Courtney Wilson

If you want to contact me, my E-mail is Elizabethancourt@hotmail.com. My facebook is www.facebook.com/courtney.elizabeth.wilson. I'm always open to new faces, so don't be shy about saying alo. :) ....... ABOUT ME.....I've been writing poetry since I was very young. I grew up with a Dad that wasn't home very much and a schizophrenic Mother so my hobbies kept me sane. Most of my poetry revolves around some kind of loss. Love, death, etc. I'm not good, but I'm not trying to be good. I write about what I want to write about. I like to be descriptive in my poetry, so as to paint a picture at the same time. I want people to FEEL it, not just read it. ***WARNING*** I write very depressing poetry, often about death and the sort. I'm tired of people telling me to write of something different. I do not have a talent for the positive, nor has it ever called to me in such the way of tragedy or darkness. I feel poetry should be rated on how it is written, not what it's written about, unless the topic is extremely inappropriate.(racist things and the like) Don't read my poetry if you don't want to feel sadness or if that annoys you. Thank you. more…

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