Gulping down a beer,
mundane summer afternoon—
god help our soldiers.
Tag: War poetry
Survivor

Flagpole stands its ground
even after the battle dies
stump survives winter
It goes on
Game of numbers

Bloody-red poppies,
power; it’s painful remains—
statistical loss.
And they fall
As war mother’s tears
shedding, scattering plenty,
yet prettier, spring.