Seven men of strength made them taste defeat;
Rejoice, run amok, cry it about the streets.
Armed with the dearest friend of Man-
They freed every soul that inhabited the land.
The evening was dark, the cold wind a-blowing,
Not a sound, save the mighty Seine a-flowing.
The Eiffel stood tall, a sentinel silent-
A tiny beep of death, an explosion giant.
The deathly yellow mixed with the soothing blue-
Surprising what a single button could do.
And the Seine got tainted with buckets of red
As an erstwhile mighty stadium dropped down dead.
And then they struck, the unflinching warriors
Putting up the show they'd planned for years.
A café, a restaurant, a boulevard broad,
Succumbed to the visit of the mighty lords.
Bullets zipped through like fatal insects
Penetrating bodies, raining death,
A hundred and a half people put to sleep-
Rejoice, run amok, cry about the streets.
The Stade blew up no less than thrice
The inhabitants running as frightened mice
And a musical theatre hosted a deadly score-
89 killed, still looking for more.
The warriors were adamant upon their goal
And their vibrant display left on the road
An army of corpses with no one to weep-
Rejoice, run amok, cry about the streets.
An incredible dream punctured with screams,
The fireworks lasted an hour
At whose finish, a lifeless wreck
Lay beneath the Eiffel Tower.
And all the red flowed out and mixed
With the red of the burning flames
And the martyrly actions of the seven soldiers
Earned them international fame.
With the air of a crippled death defiant
A suicide bomber lies
Amid the mass of shrivelled up flesh
Devoured by hungry flies.
And how the city has changed, o sigh!
How the tables have now turned
The city that killed someone, somewhere
Has now received death in return.
And the bowl of revenge is set before
The naive people of France
And all around, in movements slow
The demons of hell now dance.
And tragedy with its vicious claws
Has been so ghastly never
And upon the city of love has left
A ghastly scar forever.
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Salt And Ink
Poetry(#1 in Poetry 14th November 2015- 14th December 2015) (5th in What's Hot- Poetry, 20th January 2016) Cover picture- grunge (WeHeartIt) "Prepared thus to close, he raised his knife, Death came later; he was stabbed by life." When my ballpoint buckles...
