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Heavens cry, mothers bemoan;
Father and son trade hot metals;
Nations slug out, children at front;
Young minds dance the limbo.
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Submitted: May 27, 2008 Reads: 30 Comments: 2 Likes: 2
Child Soldiers
====================== Heavens cry, mothers bemoan; Munition, wars, as toy games; Murder tutorials the course;
Father and son trade hot metals;
Nations slug out, children at front;
Young minds dance the limbo.
Battle field as play grounds;
Bullets blow the whistle;
Trenches shield blind shots.
Predation, vandalism, an honor;
Grades in white stripes;
Nation wastes her rising suns.
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EZEH CHIBUOKE:
Another good one. Gave it an "I Like It" vote.
Thing you intended the last line to end with this spelling: "her rising sons.". Maybe not.
Happy trails,
Ed Bradley.
Posted: Jun 26, 2008
That's very nice poem.It is sad that in A frica even children go to war. :(
Posted: Jun 27, 2008
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