Power of Story
Send a Tweet        
- Advertisement -
Life Arts

War is Kind

By       Message gk thomas     Permalink
      (Page 1 of 1 pages)
Related Topic(s): , Add Tags Add to My Group(s)

View Ratings | Rate It

opednews.com

- Advertisement -

Poor kids,
why do you hang
to the branches
of these barren, campus trees?
Why won't you let go?

Do your mothers
remember the color of your eyes?

Think of all the leaves;
it is telling how they lie.

But I cannot cry.

- Advertisement -

Did I know the sorrow
whispering your names?

I hear something, vaguely,
about a war, and sigh,
and the autumn leaves lie.

I cannot cry.

- Advertisement -

O, Mother Grief,
do not be deceived,
war is kind.

Really, I feel for you poor kids,
God knows;
but you can't expect the best to die for something low.

Does it hurt to die?
Hell, no!
And I know; somewhere I've read it's so.
Besides you're dying for your country,
and how glorious that must be!

We will remember you;
do not doubt that;
and, by golly, we will cry
to think how young you were
and that you had to die.
And if the giving was your soul,
then you gave it with our pride.
And that should have given comfort
on the day you had to die.

O, Mother Grief,
kiss your kids goodbye,
but do not cry.

War is kind

- Advertisement -

 

 

- Advertisement -

View Ratings | Rate It

Ex-army medic. Atheist. I'm an amateur writer and poet.

Share on Google Plus Submit to Twitter Add this Page to Facebook! Share on LinkedIn Pin It! Add this Page to Fark! Submit to Reddit Submit to Stumble Upon



Go To Commenting
/* The Petition Site */
The views expressed in this article are the sole responsibility of the author and do not necessarily reflect those of this website or its editors.

Writers Guidelines

Contact AuthorContact Author Contact EditorContact Editor Author PageView Authors' Articles
Related Topic(s): , Add Tags
- Advertisement -

Most Popular Articles by this Author:     (View All Most Popular Articles by this Author)

The Painting

Requiem for a Porn Star

Disarray

A Barren Tree

Birds Scream in Attics

Pagan Thoughts