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Posted

When the clouds float away

And the winds had its fill,

The blood stained ground lies quiet and still

Do you ever wonder what friends were made,

what lives were laid on this spot where you stand

What tears were cried, what smiles were spied,

what limbs were torn and what clothes were worn.

Do you ever wonder what words were said , what souls are dead,

or what’s left to mend at wars end.

Brave soldiers they died, their pain was spied,

and there was nowhere to hide, they picked a side, let’s hope they were kind.

You can hope, you can pray,

but all I can say is I can’t believe what’s left to breathe at wars end.

War torn land, and nothing to hand.

Terrible shock at what’s behind, some are deaf and others are blind.

The rifle shots they hear in their sleep, taunting memories, theirs to keep.

Wisps of grey, and greeny smoke, poison meant for them to choke.

The soldiers left, lives ripped to seams,

have ghosts haunting in their dreams.

For this is what’s left at wars end, not those dead, or those left poor,

but those left scared, no roses bared.

Below your feet are just the bones of war ripped zones,

people dead, not hero’s shed.

When the clouds are gone, and the worlds had a con, people cry, people laugh , people scorn, people hack, but they forget, what’s really left at wars end.

 

 

I had her permission to post this.

I DID NOT write this.

Please give feedback!

Posted

Cool story poem, bro.

I was expecting some angsty emo garbage in free verse, but this actually rhymes and has an interesting message.

Posted

hehe, its not mine, its my friends.

I said I would post it for her and get some feedback.

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