Buried in the sand of ill regret,
a rifle washes free
Remembrance of a time when darkness coiled,
a snake of Russian greed
Its chambers empty, sights removed,
it could not, would not, fire
Perdition’s tide reclaiming fast
—its shame into the mire
(Warsaw: March, 2022)
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Author:
Kurt Philip Behm (
Offline) - Published: March 6th, 2022 12:48
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 20
- Users favorite of this poem: Laura🌻
Offline)
Comments2
We create the future every day, by every action that we take, be it large or small. I can see that rifle in the sand, as you describe it, and hope that in that far distant future those who find it will leave it buried. I love this poem!
Thanks Bella, very kind.
Kurt,
This war situation is so sad and devastating. I do appreciate you conveying your thoughts via your poems…as only you can. Reading them will have a sobering effect upon any reader’s consciousness.
Thank you for being where you need to be.🙏🏻 Be safe and stay well, my dear Poet.
Laura🌻
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