Analysis of The Living Dead
My mind wanders to the stillness of a field
where wild asters used to stud the grass with blue
I seem to hear the echo of a voice
Lamenting over the vast stretches where my thoughts cling
Here, children ran and played and called each other yesterday
and people sometimes lazed in the earth's firmness
Riffling the crisp grass through their fingers
or gaze into the blue greyness of the vast unknown
Once this field nurtured life
Once a squirrel hid in it's thickness,
an ant crawled busily as it clung to a tree
Once all was teeming with life
Like a mother who nurtures a babe inside her womb
not a living creature now on that field
None whose love, whose life, whose breath
once braced the hearts of those he knew
What is that echo I seem to hear
where recently the field turned battlefield
Of maimed and wounded
I seem to hear the repeated blows against my chest
Or, do I hear the outside pounding of a heart
now the stench of death spreads an eerie feeling over me
I walk bent, my ear tuned to someone's distress
I cannot feel uplifted
It matters not where the source of death is life
clocking it's rhythmic beat
On its march to that irrevocable end
but when the arrogant hand of the battle
In Vietnam, Valley Forge, Verdun, Gettysburg or Golan Heights
moves the pace faster
Who am I not to feel the pain
the deep sore pain I share with those mourning
Mourning their beloved dead
striped of a life once dear to their very own essence
And dear to those who knew and loved and cared
who now have gnawing at their vitals the agony of loss
Like an amputation of the very fibers of their being
I share the deep sore pain of those left mourning
I think of their moment of anguish, their eons of hurt
Yet hope springs among some
And sometimes cheer a moment of cheer
like a grace note against a solemn chord
I picture myself on that field among the dying
I go deep into their entrails
Among those struggling to grip that last grip
that last gasp
Until beaten by death they surrender
Yet at times, I'm among those
who go to death with grace
As though the secret of the unknown were revealed in beauty
I ask myself, " Which would I " ?
I cannot know the imponderable
And yet I know a choice I'll be called to make
I'm back with those left living again
Living and mourning
I grope perhaps to soothe with words or comfort with my touch
But I feel empty, hollowed out am endless desert
Like those who once knew those dead
Scheme | ABXC XDXX EDFE XAXB XAXX XFXX EXXG XHXC IXXX CCJX XXCX XXHX XFXG XXCX JI |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 11101010101 11101110111 1111010101 0101001101111 1101010111010 01001100110 10111110 110101110101 111101 101010110 111100111101 1111011 1010110010101 1010101111 1111111 11011111 111101111 110001110 11010 1111001010111 111101110101 10111111010101 1111111101 1101100 11011011111 101101 11111010001 11010011010 001101101001101 10110 11111101 0111111110 101011 1101111110110 0111110101 11110111010011 110101010101110 11011111110 11111011011011 111011 001101011 1011010101 110111101010 11101110 01110011111 111 0110111010 1111011 111111 110101001001010 111111 1101001000 01110111111 111111001 10010 11011111110111 1111010111010 1111111 |
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 2,412 |
Words | 458 |
Sentences | 2 |
Stanzas | 15 |
Stanza Lengths | 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 2 |
Lines Amount | 58 |
Letters per line (avg) | 33 |
Words per line (avg) | 8 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 129 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 31 |
Font size:
Citation
Use the citation below to add this poem analysis to your bibliography:
Style:MLAChicagoAPA
"The Living Dead" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 28 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/45657/the-living-dead>.
Discuss this Mario William Vitale poem analysis with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In