The Poetry of World War IV

A number of years ago, when the Cold War was a reality, I started to write an extended piece on the assumption that World War III would be a nuclear conflict, and that it would "wipe the board" of life and war as we now know it. Pretentious, I know, that I would be able to figure that. But what intrigued me was the nature of the "new" type of conflict. If nuclear weapons would be the a war "without," then a new war might be a war "within."

As I said, The Poetry of World War IV is an extended piece, and a metaphoric one. I wanted explore our battles within ourselves, and how we would have to resolve them. In looking over this piece again, I believe that some of the assumptions I made are still valid. Whether this is good poetry, I will leave up to the reader, myself included. For this is also an exercise for me on revision. As always, please feel free to comment, as the feedback will help me as a writer.

The Poetry of World War IV
Christopher Bogart

“If the radiance of a thousand suns
Were to burst at once into the sky,
That would be like the splendor of the Mighty One.
I am become Death,
The Shatterer of Worlds.”

(from sacred Hindu writings)


“In the beginning …”

1.
In from the sea they came
Travelers of indifference
With an apathetic mind,
Blending confusion and chaos,
Unordering order
And sounding out the waves.
They row with blades of steel,
Shining in the sun,
Sparks flashing,
Then sizzling,
As they dip into the calm, cold sea.
Their strokes are long and hard,
Pushing them onward toward land,
Governed by the silent sound,
One stroke for another,
In cadence undefined,
Moving onto the straight edge of the sword.
They are coming for the land,
Unknown travelers on an unknown cause,
In the style of their mission
Blending confusion with chaos,
Mixing symmetry with sound,
Holding paradox in time.
They have come to claim their due.