The Fury of Aerial Bombardment

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Ok so I am in college and i was asked to do a revision of a very old poem called the Fury of Aerial Bombardment by Richard Eberhart, and while I was revising it just became personal and dear to me, so I thought what better a place to share my heart with the world than OP!

The Fury of Aerial Bombardment

The Fury of Aerial Bombardment by Richard Eberhart

You would think the fury of aerial bombardment
would rouse God to relent; the infinite spaces
are still silent. He looks on shock-pried faces.
History, even, does not know what is meant.

You would feel that after so many centuries 
God would give man to repent; yet he can kill
As Cain could, but with multitudinous will,
No farther advanced than in his ancient furies

Was man made stupid to see his own stupidity?
Is God by definition indifferent, beyond us all?                 
Is the eternal truth man's fighting soul
Wherein the Beast ravens in its own avidity?

Of Van Wettering I speak, and Averill,
Names on a list, whose faces I do not recall
But they are gone to early death, who late in school 
Distinguished the belt feed lever from the belt holding pawl.

 

My Version: I should think that the fury of aerial bombardment

Would provoke God to acquiesce; Silent are the interminable spaces

Behold does he shock-pried faces.  History, even, does not know what is meant.

 

I would only hope that after so many eras

God would lend man to atone; yet he can

Kill as Cain could, but with irrefutable will

His primordial wrath allows no further progression

 

Was man made ignorant to see his own ignorance?

Is God by explanation indifferent to all of mankind?

Is man’s fighting soul defined by illimitable truth?

Wherein in the Beast feast in its own gaiety?

 

Of Van Wettering I speak, and Averill,

List, compiled of names and faces I have no recollection

But to early death they are gone, who late in school

Distinguished the belt feed lever from the belt holding pawl.

 

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When power leads man towards arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations. When power narrows the area of man's concern, poetry reminds him of the richness and diversity of existence. When power corrupts, poetry cleanses.

John F. Kennedy (1917-1963) Thirty-fifth President of the USA

blvdobd2009’s Poems (103)

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