an old poem of mine...

Shredded silk falls with the snow
Banners swept by sleety flow
Raised but soiled, ripped to and fro
Whipped by wind, black mud in tow

Once there stood two armies here
Proud and strong yet torn with fear
Over corpses crows now veer
Waves of dead corrode the clear

Few lived past the gory fray
Twisted figures lie astray
Instruments of life’s foul play
Sliced and bent, for death they pray

Knee-deep in the blood they tread
Clothes entwined with crimson thread
Snaking coils of wet, warm red
Slogging through death’s wat’ry bed

Shaking fierce these shadows stand
Undone bodies feed the land
Slowly slipping from God’s hand
All hid heaven’s reprimand

Tortured minds push grief afore
Broken men at heart’s frail core
Souls chant haunted evermore
These; true victims of this war

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Rhythms

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