scarf

e pluribus unium
by Halifax

there are wars
but not peaces

we oversleep
not sleep in

conflict is broken
into shared pieces
reciprocated in kind
until a full spread
has been laid out

peace is portrayed
in a field waving
like a picnic blanket
shaken free of crumbs

our keepsake flag
obscured by smoke

the break in grind
lets the blade rest

between a plurality
of wars without end
this constant peace
is a voracious idea

starved for attention
it smothers and eats
anyone that notices
before they can think
to call it by a name

3 thoughts on “scarf

  1. One of the witty details I noticed in this clever piece was the correlation between the title “Scarf” (broken down to “scar”– scar/scarf -the wearing of pain. Which goes well with mankind’s need for war to avoid boredom, release his inner demons, express himself, and outright define himself. I admired the word play thru out the poem. E pluribus unium (a contortion of e pluribus Unum or “out of many–one”) translates loosely “out of many–Android app”. Or that’s my take at least. There’s a bunch of good lines here. My favorite is “we oversleep, not sleep in”. In any case, I get a sense of fatalism in reading about man’s nature pitted with nature itself. Bravo sir, bravo I say unto thee!

  2. http://www.online-literature.com/tennyson/the-early-poems/120/

    The winds, as at their hour of birth,
    Leaning upon the ridged sea,
    Breathed low around the rolling earth
    With mellow preludes, “We are Free”;
    The streams through many a lilied row,
    Down-carolling to the crispèd sea,
    Low-tinkled with a bell-like flow
    Atween the blossoms, “We are free”.

    [Greek: Oi Rheontes]

    I

    All thoughts, all creeds, all dreams are true,
    All visions wild and strange;
    Man is the measure of all truth
    Unto himself. All truth is change:
    All men do walk in sleep, and all
    Have faith in that they dream:
    For all things are as they seem to all,
    And all things flow like a stream.

    II

    There is no rest, no calm, no pause,
    Nor good nor ill, nor light nor shade,
    Nor essence nor eternal laws:
    For nothing is, but all is made.
    But if I dream that all these are,
    They are to me for that I dream;
    For all things are as they seem to all,
    And all things flow like a stream.

    ~
    Tennyson

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