War

The summer 1914,
Hell came to earth,
Parents so scared,
To even give birth.

Machine guns blasting,
Both day and night,
One assassination,
Started the fight.

The slaughter is here,
It's about to start,
Family far away,
And friends blown apart.

The poppies in fields,
The color of red,
Residing in France,
Signify the dead.

Little children dead,
Laying on the ground,
Parents beside them,
Making not a sound.

We try to help out,
Give a helping hand,
Just dead men walking,
Through no man's land.

Four deadly years,
Bodies were torn,
Long before I was,
Ever even born.

It took four years,
Ten million lives,
It hurts me bad,
To think about that time.



Poetry by Justin
Read 575 times
Written on 2007-07-07 at 05:59

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Winston Latanafrancia Soldevilla
At your age you talk about history and all that sort of things, It's sounds quite great and fantastic. It looks very historical and informative. Though wars are a bit mobid to talk about. Great work my friend!
2007-10-07


normalil
Excellent Justin. This is a poem not to be forgotten. Applaud.
2007-08-11


penfold18
This is very good Justin and you have obviously put a great deal of thought to this and also shows you have heart, well done and keep up the writing.
2007-07-07