The Battlefield

In many wars, there are some battlefields that have no name, and may be forgotten, It could have happened hundreds of years ago, or just yesterday. Who remembers all who died, for one small battle.

The smell of cordite,

filled the air,

from the aftermath,

that took place there.

 

Scattered across this field once green,

lies the bodies,

of the less fortunate indeed,

dead or dying among the debris.

 

A battle once took place here,

scattering men across all of it there,

bullets flew,

striking a few.

 

Explosions abound

all around,

tearing the land,

with a thunderous sound.

 

Men flew through the air,

like ragdolls thrown around,

but still men lived,

through this terrible rout.

 

Most holding their ground,

while others ran out,

afraid of dying throughout,

being mowed down as the tout.

 

Sooner or later,

this battle must end,

for some to win,

and others contend.

 

Shots were coming fewer,

As more men died,

the explosion stopped,

left a feeling of pride,

for the battle has turned the tide.

 

Fewer men were left,

on the other side,

as the victors,

ran forward with pride.

 

Slashing the others,

left alive,

killing left and right,

until no one was left to fight.

 

The battle was won,

by the advancing side,

and off they marched,

to the next battlefield to fight.

 

Leaving the dead,

to be picked over,

by the less fortunate,

people in need.

 

All the dead,

were stripped of what they had,

make everyone who saw it,

very sad.

 

Too many lives wasted,

on this site,

for a small piece of land,

with no name to shed the light.

Reviews

[micky]

This is a amazing piece. Well done!!!!!!

[Donald]

Thank you for your review