Smoke it rises
Amidst jagged flame
Field artillery
Without the blame
Mans insanity
Screams to sky
The dead lay silent
Wondering why.
The hedgeroads free
The birds have flown
More refugees
Without a home
Uniforms
Scorched and torn
Future glory
Has been born.
Written in ink
Without the pain
A thousand lines
Each untrained
Mere memories
A flag unfurled
A volley of rifles
Medals worn.
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Author:
nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson) (
Offline) - Published: November 28th, 2025 03:11
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 4
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments2
Good write N. I knew a guy - he would reply 'Why?' to everything, even if it was not a question! Bit nutty or eccentric.
it takes all sorts my mother used to say, thanks for reading
It's said - there's more mad folk outside than inside the loony bin! lol.
Satiric, this piece is a comment on war with its destruction and devastation. Some pretend that there is glory in it but it is far outweighed by the horror. Very nicely written it is a fave
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