Mosul

Hi everyone, here's day 2:

Mosul by David Hernandez
The donkey. The donkey pulling the cart. The caravan of dust. The cart made of plywood, of crossbeam and junkyard tires. The donkey made of donkey. The long face. The long ears. The curled lashes. The obsidian eyes blinking in the dust. The cart rolling, cracking the knuckles of pebbles. The dust. The blanket over the cart. The hidden mortar shells. The veins of wires. The remote device. The red light. The donkey trotting. The blue sky. The rolling cart. The dust smudging the blue sky. The silent bell of the sun. The Humvee. The soldiers. The dust-colored uniforms. The boy from Montgomery, the boy from Little Falls. The donkey cart approaching. The dust. The laughter on their lips. The dust on their lips. The moment before the moment. The shockwave. The dust. The dust. The dust.

It seems like this poem is directed toward the war in Iraq/Middle East. The donkey in this case is a tired soldier, young in age but old in experience. The donkey is the man toiling in the desert sun and dust, trying to laugh with the boys and find some joy in the life they have in another foreign land, fighting. Joy and laughs in a world filled with hatred and fighting. A respite from the rough and tumble world.

The way he writes his poem - very muddled together and the sentences broken, botched and not organized any particular way, just going on and on...very similar to the style of a war and the people who fight it.

I like this poem - very relevant, well written, simple and easy to understand, yet complicated, full of heavy meaning and written in a style that mimics the man of war's experience. Well done.