Invisible Men

[TheIllyricist]

Here we slept, the Chosin
frozen upon winter beds;
corpse mattresses, blanketed
by blood-caked snow

Abandoned, we were
unremembered, we are
yet here we live
final few

Standing in line
at the market

next to you.

[Emily]

Ok, I know this is about war. But I'm not going to feed it with war in mind. I'm going to feed it with poets in mind.
Poets here. All of us. Because this war poem, shows struggles that reflect a certain lot of writers, and I like that I get
a feeling of 'the dying' when I think of how this art is looked at by those who don't appreciate it.


Here we slept, the Chosin
frozen upon winter beds;
This is exactly the way someone feels, when they pour out their heart and soul and no one, NO ONE comes to say a word.
Sleeping words, not Chosin, but chosen by the author, to reflect his chosen mindset. And those lonely words are left abandoned,
frozen out. I could even say that this piece (in my own head) could actually be 'the written words' that are speaking.

corpse mattresses, blanketed
by blood-caked snow

In war, these descriptions are working and live on to stain the brain with mayhem that's taken place.
With poetry, I think it's a feeling of having lost the war, lost the fight, lost the will, to write. When your
ego is covered in blood and the words have lost what you saw as flesh, and now just seem skeletal.

Abandoned, we were
unremembered, we are
These two lines are wonderful. The pace is golden. The repeated words are music to my ears. A lovely rhythm.
But the msg, love it. If I'm talking poets again, all I see is abandonment. We were. And unremembered, most of us will be.

yet here we live
final few
lol. Ain't that the truth. The final few. Yet still 'us few, live here'.

Standing in line
at the market

The Invisible ones. Where merchandise is peddled, hawked off. Where things are promoted, but not always sold.

next to you.
I hope so. That way, we'll never be alone. We'll always, have someone, who understands.

I'm sorry for not feeding this in the way it was intended to be viewed. But when I first read this piece, it just told a story I know too well, and it's a sad one. But one that derives from 100% love.
You've written this tale in few words but they are so full of atmosphere and it's that mood you've created that makes this read,
a beautiful one.

Thank you for this.
I really enjoyed it.

[Spoken Deity]

At the very least, thus poem is to the point and has zero interest in big abstractions. It reads well, mostly. Despite dealing with heavy content, it's surprisingly effective. Quality short poems are hard to write.
I'd take a look at "mattresses" and "blood-caked." For future edits.
The first line I noted doesn't read well; too many sylables? Blood-cakes isn't imaginative. Fairly ordinary, even if it describes reality well. Edit those, perhaps add a bit to make the transition from soldiers bloodied and forgotten to "standing next to you."