Bloody-red poppies,
power; it’s painful remains—
statistical loss.
Game of numbers
Tag: War poetry
And they fall
As war mother’s tears
shedding, scattering plenty,
yet prettier, spring.
Uncorked
a soldier, a wine
barrel-full of tales
one shovel at a time
one glass
All’s well
Deafening thunder
shell storms asunder
cowers soldier
a night’s shelter
shatters the next
graveyard in its wake
all’s well, mama
in scrawny writing
announces the letter
flickering solace
for pining mother
a world away
Oh, the fall
Tall, erect, in line
like our soldiers sent to war
except, more alive
