Ian Wilkshire

Ian Wilkshire Poems

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I have no need in such impertinent things; my life are my words.)

The Best Poem Of Ian Wilkshire

Reapers

For twas the reapers who left the marks,
twisted minds, wasted futures, darkened hearts,
he stepped towards them, and when he saw the face,
he knew his luck had deserted him, farewell human race.

They were outcasts, growing into isolation,
goodness was extracted from them,
the redness of the heart became black pain,
a rebble crop that went against the grain,

The reapers, who butcher victims to loan,
reminding people, men are merely flesh and bones.
much pain is to come for false hope earth,
but is born legacies, war heroes, warriors, through birth.

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