Someone once wrote of war.
I regret not saving their words as from the first of "Shall we talk of war?
Of battlefields and blood..." and so on.
I saw it.
I regret not saving their words
To read on later when I felt like reading of matters of death and gore.
For now I can never know what they had to say of the red dye of war- never be sure of their words' arrange-
And never now can I redeem myself for lying about the war drums that pulsed their beats 'neath my chest from their first line,
"Shall we talk of war?"
So I will write of what I can. I can only write,
"Let us talk of war."
Poetic beauty shows its talent
Painting beautifully the most horrifying
How can one line strike such awe?
War is meant to be undesired.
Blood caught in petal form
Bodies left in subtle tones
Your words bring a heroic feel
War is but Death's homefield.
Tears left to run on soft cheeks
Thunderous cries and shouts reach their peak.
The sight is one every man should see.
Many once; now many rarely.
Fields unbounded flourishing gloriously
Asphalt, cement, stone, and glass
Freedom close to spiritual warfare
Now the world is something to see...
Now, the world is something to see....
"Speak of war?" How can I?
How to speak of something that doesn't exist?
Closed eyes; open ears
Still hearts and opened lips.
Many once saw war and could speak of its heroics.
Language was rich then as if to reflect an age of prosperity
Valor was bone-deep
Death was not feared.
Failure, Loss, Disappointment; Estrangement
Different reasons then were for fear
Now...the world is something to see.
War has never been as skin-deep
A war of the hearts.
Pity to our ancestors.
The spirit of war died with them.
YOU ARE READING
Poems of the Atmos
PoetryRandom thoughts from different moments on various things for infinite reasons. If I don't mention that I made or own the photo, know that it isn't mine. I used Canva, Google, or Wattpad Covers to make my book covers/pictures additions. Thank you for...
