Down through the millennia
grand armies
marched across plains of
destruction.
Battle cries,
forever lost in the ether.
Spilt blood,
absorb and recycled.
Names of the warriors
forever lost,
unknown to the future.
Civilizations
have come
and gone,
some never being known
to modernity.
Important men,
striding the halls of power,
controlling all they see.
Self impressed with their prowess.
Brass knuckled men,
climbing over and knocking down others,
any who got in their way.
Power
at all cost.
Men, gnawing
their way to the present,
leaving blood
and destruction in their wake.
Where do such men go from here?
How will their aggressive
tendencies
translate in the world
of hyper-technology?
Will it propel them to the stars,
or blast them into oblivion?
It’s the toss of a coin I think.
-
Author:
John Prophet (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: July 22nd, 2017 10:11
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 18
- Users favorite of this poem: LIGHT WARRIOR
Offline)
Comments2
War through the ages beautifully described
And I sure hope that coin toss is a good one. All we can do is hope, and try to make our impact!
Great poem though!!!
Thank you for reading my work and for your kind words.
Wow, Brilliant work here ...
Loved it right down to the last line...!
Jason,
Thank you for reading my work and for your kind words.
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