Hero Poem by Matthew Leggett
Hero
The worn face slumbers behind cracked rims,
Breath rasps into broken lungs
And leaks back out in a wheeze. A moment seems
To hang like Old Spice, the grim
Realisation that the best has passed, death has come.
Medals wilt above the faded bureau,
Pictures curl in untouched frames
And show a smiling man. Forgotten hero,
Dying alone, on his own
With nothing but sinewy memories, escaped names.
A very moving poem Matthew, you have captured the loneliness of our forsaken heroes. Used and then just thrown away. Very well produced. Love Ernestine XXX
Good expressive poem. Serious for a 17 year old maybe but that's better than silliness. Gave it a nine so you keep aiming for 10. Paul.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 11:28:42 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Good work and keen insight into the anonymous death of a forgotten hero, whose tarnished medals with their faded ribbons lie on the worn dresser. I think your poem expresses more than one woman's comment about the hero being used and then just thrown away like discarded trash. You touch the universal tragedy of the human condition. The hero in your poem dies quietly, a good man gone to his rest. Left unsaid in a brief poem but strongly implied is the life he lived from the action that won him his medals through the years to his quiet end.