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  1. #1
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    War Poem

    Finished this today, hope everyone likes it.
    Best Regards
    Lisa


    They came marching through the fog
    To the beat of an internal pain
    Through red fields of friend and foe
    Never to be again

    They spent the night on the bare dirt
    With their trusted gal at hand
    Dreaming of warm summer days
    Lying on the beach in the sand

    One by one they go
    As the fog burns away
    They pray and dream and hope
    Of living into another day

    A shot rings out over the field
    Nowhere to hid on this plain of blood
    The man next to you is now not there
    The sorrow tries to hit like a flood

    A whistle from metal lips
    Can be heard over all
    It hits and burrows deep
    He stumbles and tries not to fall

    The ground rises up to meet them
    Some for the very last time
    Others carried there by their brothers
    And others hoping it won’t be the last time

    Evening falls over the red field
    Many more have been laid there
    How many more will there be tomorrow
    Many in hopes will say a prayer

    They rest again on beds of dirt
    Their trusty gals lying next to the men
    Awaiting the next day of battle
    To live on the field of blood again
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  3. #2
    Dan Wilson
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    Nice, thanks for sharing that.

    Dan

  4. Thank You to Dan Wilson For This Useful Post:


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    (Deceased April 21, 2018) John Sukey (Deceased)'s Avatar
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    Please excuse me for adding this but It reminded me.
    In Flanders Fields
    Lt. Col John McCrae MD, Royal Canadianicon Army

    In Flanders Fieldsa the poppies blow
    between the crosses row on row
    That mark our place, and in the sky
    The larks, still bravely singing fly
    Scarce heard amid the guns below.

    We are the Dead, Short days ago
    We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow
    Loved and were loved, and now we lie
    In Flanders fields

    Take up our quarrel with the foe
    To you from failing hands we throw
    The torch, be yours to hold it high
    If ye break faith with us who die
    We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
    In Flanders Fields

    Seems nothing much changes

  7. #4
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    Thread Starter
    What a great poem. I like it.

    Lisa

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