One morning,the bugle
which is a trumpet in uniform ,
called a young father to dig a trench
He would have preferred to continue
growing the roses in his garden ,
rather than reap laurels .
But you must obey the duty ...
And then, in the evening ,they told him :
'' You have to change your language
and flag or leave ,
just to the neighbor's house ! ''
The roses in the garden ,continued to grow
in beauty and wisdom ,always speaking
the language of flowers ...
And then,when the son turned 20 ,
others have returned .
Not far away, just from the land of neighbors.
They told him :
'' You are our child and blood ,
defend your homeland ! ''
- '' You know you have to die
when dad is from here
and mum from nowhere ! ''
The brothers also wage war
on each other ,to inherite
a trampled hawthorne sanctuary.
And not looking at each other
across a border ,
that in their gleaming palaces
princes in parrot battle dress
have absentmindeadly
drawn at sunset ...
The child fell in the grass
wet with dew .
And the ancient continued
to breathe in the scent
of the roses in the garden ,
for so many years ...
The ederly, you know ,
live long after turmoil and torment ,
putting the medals
into the same memory box,
when the bugle call ceased .
And only the dew of dawn
will cover the remains of the son ...
The princes are weary
in their concrete gardens .
Understanding only
the fiery speech of thistles...
-
Author:
lorenz (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: August 28th, 2025 10:31
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 13
- Users favorite of this poem: Ellen Marsell, Sealgair
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Comments5
And the band played waltzing Matilda and where have all the flowers gone long time passing, In peace sons bury their fathers, in times of war fathers bury their sons. Bob Dylan painted it well in Masters of War. A vivid and heartfelt poem Lorenz
A political message beneath the sweetness of summer roses !
great write
A ''botanical lampoon ! " Thank you Norman !
thoroughly enjoyed mate
Against the backdrop of changing generations and senseless conflicts, the roses go on blooming - a symbol of peace and wisdom. The contrast between destruction and beauty makes your poem profound and deeply moving.
Cultivate your garden without letting yourself be distracted by death !
Amazing!
As long as princes hear only the burning speech of thistles ,garden will remain concrete !
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