Welcome to Gaia! ::

My first poem in this forum... I do hope you all enjoy. This is a poem on war... inspired by a song I'm sure not many of you have heard called "Rooster." I hope everyone enjoys reading it as much as I did writing it.

War Song

Crack, pop, hiss.
What is left is burning bliss.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
What we will. What we must.
Before our eyes,
The ashes’ lies.
Our unseen foe,
Our perpetual woe.
Tongues of flame
Give utter blame
To the face
That wiped out our race.
Take up your arms,
Raise all alarms,
Call up your men,
To the lion’s den.
Here we will,
Where others still
Lie dying,
Electrifying
The night sky,
Screaming, “Why? Why?”
We take up our battle,
To replace the rattle.
And whilst we fight
With all our might,
At home they hear,
Awake with fear,
The sounds of war,
And scream, “NO MORE!”
They spit on us,
They make a fuss.
They start up trifles
And take our rifles.
They hate us now
And we wonder how,
They hate us all.
And when we fall,
They laugh at us with an evil frown,
They take their arms and beat us down.
When we finally make it back,
We rejoice in the news of a refreshed attack.
No going home for us now,
We get to die, “pow, pow, pow.”
But we crush them then,
So we take our men.
Home we march,
The country road starch
Contrast to the battlefield,
On which many lives did yield.
We enter town,
But there is no frown,
As we would expect,
But instead, respect.
We are greeted as heroes,
Not like the zeros
That we were when last here,
Which we did fear.
We were given
The gift of livin’
In stead of death,
A final breath,
Like the ones our brothers took
When they had their final look
At this place,
Such an intricate lace.
Now we can see
Our countrymen free.
Now they know
That our greatest foe
Was they,
Who made us pay
And not those we face
So far from this place
On that field of death,
Where our brothers took their final breath.

Passion flares, burns out the light,
Soldiers march into the night.
The fires of war light the sky,
their time is now, tonight they die.
Reds on reds, blacks on blacks,
their bodies thrown on roads and tracks.
Blood seeps beneath the surface,
never knowing what it's purpose
could have been if retained in veins.
What would have been, without the rains
of blood, and sweat, and heart, and soul.
What when war's thunder never rolled?
The men who died for this land,
united they die, united they stand.
They fight together, together at last,
but now the light is fading fast.
Appolo's chariot finds its place,
now our men quicken the pace.
Swords and sheilds, pikes and spears,
this is a war for the years.
Bones crumble back to dust,
we must remember, we must, we must.
The blood that stained this feild of white,
is a testament to their might.
Mighty Sparta faught not this hard,
breaking bone, shard by shard.
Until at last, the body breaks.
The soldiers falls and the earth shakes.
The last man fallen, it is done.
One survivor shouts, "We won! We won!"

Thanks Isis. I figured that since the few people that cared showed they cared, I'd stay for their sakes. I'm finding new inspirations, and that's why I'm trying to expand my horizons and write on new topics... until something's decided upon, I'm going to continue to write on war. I'm glad you enjoyed that one... it has special meaning behind it for me. One of my cousins actually told me this story... it happened in Iraq... the one last man is him actually... at first I thought he was just making up a story to make himself sound big and bad... but then he showed me his medal and the tape from the imbedded reporter... it was crazy... everyone died... he was literally the only man alive... it was... terrible... he was actually shot three times and they sent him home... but yeah... that poem's about him and his story... that tape was my inspiration...