Just Shoes

Written for:  Poets United Midweek Motif~Shoes  (posted by Susan)

“If the shoe doesn’t fit, must we change the foot?”
― Gloria Steinem


Vincent van Gogh – Shoes (1888)

In a moldering area of marl,
a ghostly plaintive cry
of men echoes in emptiness,
in desperation. All the crumpled
bodiless shoes lay strewn, stained
with the red blood of war.


About purplepeninportland

I am a freelance poet, born and bred in Brooklyn, New York. I live with my husband, John, and two charming rescue dogs–Marion Miller and Murphy. We spent eight lovely years in Portland, OR, but are now back in New York. My goal is to create and share poetry with others who write, or simply enjoy reading poetry. I hope to touch a nerve in you, and feel your sparks as well.
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25 Responses to Just Shoes

  1. thotpurge says:

    Oh dear.. that is so stark- the image of shoes and death.


  2. Sherry says:

    Oh, i can see those shoes. This poem makes me remember the mounds of shoes in the concentration camps.


  3. magicalmysticalteacher says:

    Who can ever forget shoes stained with blood? Let the answer my own question: the generals, apparently.


  4. susan chast says:

    Brilliant! These few choice words are image perfect. Takes my breathe away!


  5. Rosemary Nissen-Wade says:

    A vivid and terrible image, which must not be forgottten.


  6. mhmp77 says:

    bodiless shoes lay strewn, stained
    with the red blood of war.

    Sad spectacle of episodes that are better forgotten so as not to remind us of tragic moments of human weaknesses



  7. Sumana Roy says:

    Oh my! War is, has been and will be so Raw. Fantastic images!


  8. Myrna says:

    Oh, this is such a sad, realistic scene.


  9. hypercryptical says:

    War is a terrible thing and your words bleed its awful loss.
    Anna :o]


  10. wildchild47 says:

    oh! this certainly is intense!


  11. Vivian Zems says:

    Quite a vivid picture. Well done!


  12. jammy7000 says:

    It drives home the point of the pointlessness of war and the lives cut short. The bodies are dead, they decompose and the shoe leather persists hauntingly…


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