The branches broke, a darkning tree,
Hangs on a rope, a dead man three.
Their carcus burnt, laid to flames.
Decapited heads, will to blame.
The pride of death, betrayed the vow.
The crying breath, eternally now.
Not a tear, or watered cry, came fom any passers by.
But hidden laughter, from their minds, nor a sigh to them remind.
For violence be atrocity, and death the souls reply.
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Author:
RSM (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: April 24th, 2026 03:55
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 4
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments4
Very poetic. Any particular lynching in your mind when you pasted this here?
It was inspired by the lynch mob death of Mousalini in Italy in 1945, after WWII.
Billie Holiday's song strange fruit came to mind with the opening line of this poem. It is powerful and strongly worded in vivid terms of violence. It packs a strong message and is a fave
I based it off of Mousilini's lynch mob death in Italy in 1945 at the end of WWII.
Unfortunately there have been too many of these common pictures through history
well written and a definite like
No fav? I guess a like will do. Lol
lol
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