The Winds of War
By threeleafshamrock
- 3682 reads
When winds of war, with fiery cloud
doth form upon the world, a shroud
and death prevails; all life is cheap,
when devils reign and angels weep.
When advocates, of bomb and gun,
convince that love is moribund,
then we -who are by traitors kissed -
must tackle death's evangelist.
Too err, is human and so make
excuses for man's great mistake
but how will He but justify,
a father's rage, a mother's cry.
What useless weapon is your sword,
why should we kneel and call you lord,
when mortar, rips and bloody stains
while curing youthful, growing pains.
Tis easy claim; 'I gave them will,
It's not my choice - but theirs, to kill.'
and passing Pilate's finger bowl,
demand of innocents, their soul.
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Comments
Strong words spoken here, by
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Strong, clear and concise.
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Expertly penned, intelligent
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Interesting piece Chris,
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An excellent poem well
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A well-deserved cherry,
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This is just brilliant,
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Congrats on the well
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Hello Chris, sorry I'm so
k.
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I agree with Chuck's choice
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