In to the great void they bravely thunder,
Their frozen hands tightly, to gun stocks, grip.
Through upturned graveyards, knee deep in plunder,
Iron quivers chock full of hot leaden tip.
Through muddied coats their own blood is seeping,
Their deafened ears hearing the cold war cry.
This land is cut and will not stop bleeding ;
Naive hounds of war, these pups are let fly.
These fields were once lit in different red,
Bright flowers welcomed the warm breath of spring ;
Now hundreds sit wounded, scores more lie dead,
Cold winter silenced their grave offering.
In the distant mist a lone toll bell chimes ;
Even God can't un-draw this battle line.
Feb 24, 2010
Feb 24, 2010 at 1:21 PM UTC
In to the great void they bravely thunder,
Their frozen hands tightly, to gun stocks, grip.
Through upturned graveyards, knee deep in plunder,
Iron quivers chock full of hot leaden tip.
Through muddied coats their own blood is seeping,
Their deafened ears hearing the cold war cry.
This land is cut and will not stop bleeding ;
Naive hounds of war, these pups are let fly.
These fields were once lit in different red,
Bright flowers welcomed the warm breath of spring ;
Now hundreds sit wounded, scores more lie dead,
Cold winter silenced their grave offering.
In the distant mist a lone toll bell chimes ;
Even God can't un-draw this battle line.
© Edward R. D. Hillier, 2009.
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