Balkan Soul

Here, there is no poetry

Here, where the blue Danube 

meets the Black Sea

it ain't no poetry

only gun smoke

and shattered hearts

may rise from the ground

the only poetry

comes from the muzzle

from the knife

the swords 

the overwhelming poverty

the crushing desperation

Here, were Alexander marched glorious,

Here were my ancestors shed their blood

where Constantinople

gasped for it's last breath

Here between the burning sands of Arabia

and the dark, cool  shadowy forests of the Carpathians

it's death and pain, my friends

but seldom poetry.

Reviews

[Sami Khalil]

Very nice. Different . Pen on...:)

[Distantview123]

A hard-hitting poem, making the reader stop and think. Thanks for sharing this. ~ Robert.

[SyberRose]

Enjoyed ...very informative piece...Rose

[Pryde Foltz]

A painful, powerful and wry write. I sense your yearning for your country's lost poetry/beauty/peace. Well-penned.

[Ted]

Thank you very much for your appreciation!