WarA Poem by R.M.CThe stench of death Hangs heavy in the
air; Death is the smell of
my breath And of my dirty
unwashed hair. They smell us drawing
near, A haze of pungent
smell; In return we smell
their fear For we will send them
to hell. Death is supposed to
be a cloaked tall figure Who takes you gently
in your sleep; But it’s the stab of
a knife, the pull of a trigger, By scared boys who
run to their slaughter like sheep. With courage and pure
purpose at heart, They swarm forth like
an avenging flood; Over the dead and
through pools of blood, They scream “To
death, sentenced, thou art!” They did Great
Britain proud, Allowing us to live
life our way; As heroes, as saviours,
I pronounce thee crowned, And hope we don’t have to do the same someday. © 2016 R.M.CAuthor's Note
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1 Review Added on February 20, 2016 Last Updated on February 27, 2016 AuthorR.M.CNorth-East England , United KingdomAboutI am a teenager from England, hoping to become an author - of poetry and different types of Novels. I also aspire to acquire a business enterprise (possibly through money earned from being an author) .. more..Writing
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