Armies face one another in uniforms that define,
leave no doubt, who is on what side.
The ground upon which they stand,
soon bright red, confirm life’s ebb.
Cries of wounded lessen
as death’s reaper claims each,
causing cessation.
Medics roam the field tending those in need,
care not the uniform,
tend all who breathe and may survive.
All now quiet, both sides watch and wonder.
This death and destruction, this hatred inside,
the poison of prejudice,
a people unknown until they died.
Armies face one another across a field piled high,
and wonder why.
In a list
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Excellent Poem Good luck in te contest
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Sums it up
This is war, maybe more so befor nam. But it is still 'war'.
Armies face one another across a field piled high,
and wonder why.
The mind of a common soldier.....
I wish you the best in the finals.
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