Skip to main content

A Place Called War


Bright nights and dark days|

Sorrow lingers as the youth play|

Tanks run the streets while missiles fill the sky|

A thunderstorm of bombs and a whirlwind of bullets fill the path|

Run and run until my feet can no longer bear|

Dodge and dodge until my head can no longer care|

A new day creates another grave|

Fill that hole with my hopes and dreams|

Destroying my home while my children scream|
Labels:

Comments

  1. Amy PollardAugust 12, 2012 at 2:53 PM

    Hi there! Please check out my new poetry blogzine and submit your best work: brevitypoetryreview.blogspot.com/

    ReplyDelete
  2. Philippa DrakeOctober 3, 2012 at 8:19 AM

    Absolutely terrifying!

    ReplyDelete
  3. Edgar VillatoroOctober 4, 2012 at 7:46 AM

    Thank you for reading my works, philippa.
    I didn't think anyone read my stuff anymore.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Inside Your Hands

Parables fumble in unprepared hands| Deprived of gifts bestowed to thee| As humans we seek shelter beneath a tree| When our feet become weak| And our needs extend beyond our means| As rain pours| It cleanses our soul| Dormant ideas start to grow| Yet we turn a blind eye| To what's before our sight| Taking the easy way| Shunning plights| Fighting is not a physical ordeal| It's more of a rejection to extol the almighty rule| Exploring alternatives to fables disguised as facts| Letters shredded in half| Eulogies embedded on a golden calf| The story was written for you to digest| The ending inside your hands| Inside your thoughts is the rest|
Post a Comment
Next Page »

I Walk Along The Road

I love nature bare| Bare as the bears searching the rivers for salmon| Bare as the deer roaming the woods| Crossing the street until that fatal accident comes in the form of the bright light it sees just before the light shatters into pieces and darkness takes hold of the scene| I walk the rocky road bare| To feel those rough edges caress my feet| I sleep with no tent| The leaves from the trees are all the shelter I need| No backpack hunching my back| I search and gather my meals to fill the nourishment of my needs| The stars lead my way| So I hunt for the night| Without a compass and follow the glitters in the sky| I don't boast about my accomplishment| Because I have yet to accomplish anything| The shared journey between my feet and I as I bare my soles into mud| And cuddle without awakening my desires| Allowing them more sleep before they awake me from my dreams| Love every inch of land like this were your holy land| Black Elk speaks from cr...
3 comments
Next Page »

Excavating Thoughts

Excavating thoughts purge the deep swell in an abundant forest filled with catacombs| Think not of what to say| Rather| Think of formations and placement for your words| The expression expedite hidden phrases| A realm in multitude of scenic shades| Which fill stains and covers from edge to edge| Put in motion a rehearsed visual| Captured for later interpretation and judgement| A glory outdrew| A painting foreseen inside that thought| Once emerged from a projector working its way from picture to sound| From sound to dialects| From dialects to expression| From expression to memorized interpretations or unsightly inked writings| Exclusive to emotional reincarnations| Contemplation and relegation amount heavy loads| To collapse the foundation in which laid heavy groundwork| Obscure water waves regulate the sounds of prejudgments| Before seen in the obscurity of the themes| Awake from the thankfulness of your mind| And enter into the depths of the b...
7 comments
Next Page »