Bombs! Bombs!
They are everywhere...
**READ:: This poem is in memory of my brother...
Battle...
In the mist of the morning, she lays on the grave
A bouquet of roses in soft gentle blue...
The men shot into the horizon,
And watched as their friends fell...
Proud rows of men and women,
Gather from noble countries wide...
My cousin called me just the other day
To tell me he was going over seas...
A soldier killed
A brother lost...
So many people lost their lives,
For people they didn't even know...
I see a woman ragged clothed
In such poverty and shame...
I always wonder how it would be
To be one of the brave, proud, free...
As I stand on the block and take a squat on the...
Their graves are marked with chiseled stones,
While their bodies lie under so dead and cold...