Sonnet of September

Two thousand one eleven September,
terrorists hijacked four planes in the sky.
The crew, the passengers, did surrender,
to those Bin Laden had sent to die.

Two thousand one eleven September,
the Pentagon and Twin Towers were hit.
Buildings collapsed into ash and ember,
and bodies were buried in steel and grit.

Two thousand one eleven September,
all the leaders prayed, all the people cried,
and the nation promised to remember,
the over three thousand people that died.

Afghanistan, Iraq, and one score,
people promised but remember no more.



The Death March

Soldiers march in line under the moonlight,
having failed the mission and missed the shot,
surrendered their weapons and means to fight,
they are banded and led away to rot.

They march on without food, water or rest,
driven on to an unknown place or end,
defenseless and unable to protest,
their hope and morale begin to descend.

The weary stop and topple to the ground,
their bodies are pierced by a bayonet,
while others trudge on and don’t make a sound,
but hope their comrades died without regret,

When the marching stops will the dying cease?
When the war is over will there be peace?



Christopher Matthew Thomas is a bi-vocational church planter in Yokosuka, Japan. He works for the US military and is a former Army Officer. As a Soldier he completed tours in Iraq, Afghanistan, and Egypt. 

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3 Responses

  1. Paul Freeman

    Two raw and emotive poems with layers of messaging.

    The two questions we are posed at the end of The Death March are incredibly strong at bringing the narrative out of the history books and forcing us to consider the answers.

    Thanks for two poignant reads, Christopher.

  2. C.B. Anderson

    In these two poems you have done a good job of counting syllables, but the meter is quite unclear.


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