[Frank]

EtH

Born on the battlefield, in the arms of my mother
Prematurely removed, and still I’ve hardly recovered
I stretch out, each limb being unfurled
Eyes flutter open, my first time seeing the word
*Whoosh*
Word/world? Tomatoes/Tamaotes? Minor mistake. Upon first reading it I read it as world. Only after critiquing each couplet now do I see the error. The brain automates kind of like spell check. That's why I can tpye lkie tihs and you can Raed Tihs, You Msut Be Raelly Smrat lol. Whoosh in asterisks was creative
Dust hits my face, what is in store?
Bullets clink and chime as they fall to the floor
Engines explode, the petrol affronts
Metallic teardrops that float through and rest on my tongue
I read somewhere you mentioning my rhyme schemes being off or whatever. I am now looking at your syllable alignment with a heightened awareness. What I can gather it is rather simple. It is however poignant and to the point in it's preciseness. Clean writing really. I'm just nitpicking.
I look to my mother’s eyes to catch a borrowed glance
Behind their steely exterior, they sit hollow, blank
Her cold hands chill on my skin as she holds me tight
I shiver and shudder, my blood frozen white
If you would look at the picture, you will see a white gleam of sunlight accentuating the sun light hitting them, which can be perceived as frozen white blood, I suppose. See what I'm talking about?
A child stuck in a war zone, mother unprepared
The air singed with the scent of burning hair
I try to wriggle-free and I fight her, she’s keeping me tighter
I gaze down to see that liquid leaks from inside her
Blood trickles through, sticky and wet
It’s maroon tint fades away to leave a stygian mess
I liked the descriptions "Air singed" and the word stygian in the same couplet
I curl back in her arms, feeling so delicate
As men fall to the floor, each of them relatives
In danger, I stretch out to yell and point
But am held back by my under-developed voice
With my mother by my side, I’m never left alone
She whispers into my ear, she’ll never let me go
I read that the word Mother, according to 40,000 people world wide, is the most beautiful word in the English language. The word Mother never fails to evoke.
Buildings crumble, my bones shake with the noise
Leaving me too scared to even play with my toys
My birth into this world left damaged and sabotaged
Wrapped and hidden in this blanket of camouflage
I need out, my heart races, I just avert and leave
My legs just too small to desert the scene
I liked this "desert the scene" - I guess it could be a desert of sorts.
I just fall and crawl, but this war is hell
She drags me back with a fist full of mortar shells
Dr. Seus passed away on this day, back in 1991. Fun fact
Mother grips hard, declining my last appeal
Leaving me with the fate…to die on the battlefield.

Vivacious verse. Was sharper than a bayonet

Spoken
Forsaken...

He stood firm and never churned from his border,
Let it burn, the lesson learned, feeling trapped in a corner.
Kept on waiting for time that never cared to incline,
Saw the roads that paved souls but it never lead to his mind.
Crossing acceptance and simply forging the blessing,
Metal casings slugged to awaken the nearest souls that were resting.
You have a very unorthodox way of writing, my friend. It is very clunky to me. The connection of words just doesn't sit right with me. This has always been your style, though. You writing is somewhat mumble jumble to me. I think the syllable count is cool, it's just the combination of words that bothers me. It really drains me for some odd reason.
Hiding deep in the trenches- rigamortis, infected,
Patching wounds that would assume one corpse is infested.
He shook the gesture and took the venture with pride,
Plugged the outburst on the outskirts and forced them to hide.
No weakness shall be given as he was living a dream,
Saving time while caving lies that built a bridge over streams.
Lucid he went while keeping the intrusive content,
Confusion among movement but it was fluid at best.
Last 2 lines summarize my previous sentiments
.
.
.
I've seen all sides but to my surprise this is new,
Such depression with aggression? Honey, this isn't you.
Don't tell me what I know. Im a relishing clone,
Supressing all this anger that seems to strangle all ive condoned.
I'm just concerned for the sake of what you might let fade,
Turn loose with no dispute and let the skies turn grey.

Your stuff reads like an ancient over weight Samoan in a mud hut somewhere in the remote part of Hawaii to be honest lol. And when I read your material with that picture in my head of you, I grow to appreciate your native way with word
He sold his soul to his worshipper and never turned back,
A sergeant in his platoon but had forgot he was a dad.
A husband, a friend. A human being at that,
Suffocating himself till it all fades to black.
Took to war; His life including his child and wife,
Lived by the bullet, the suffix; a rubrix cube deep inside.
Till the smoke cleared and all dear was gone and a mess,
Sold his soul to a hole that left him asking for death.

Piece had some gusto, but not much technique

I am voting for EtH. Piece to me was more on point. Where as Storyteller was perhaps a little more ambitious, EtH was defter

Solid battle men, good adaptation to this weeks pic