The Fruits Of War Poem by Patricia Denise Newman
The Fruits Of War
There is no Glory in a war
only dead bodies by the score.
Generals shout their daily commands
soldiers obey without demands.
So it goes on year on year
a never-ending constant fear
When will it end? What does it gain?
all this fighting, death and pain...
Friends they were in years gone by
but power-hungry people vied
to take the land their neighbours owned
subjugate, and then disowned
the dreadful deeds that they fulfilled,
the numbers they have maimed and killed..
All for what? Some devilish scheme?
someones horrid, nightmare, dream?
People are left to mourn their friends
families broken - no-one mends.
This then is the Fruit of War
Rotten! Rotten to the core!
War rises from hatred. And the soldiers fight for their unabashed ‘patriotism'. Hate red we need to address with love. But patriotism is the weapon the leaders use to enslave the poor hapless ignorant subjects. No solution for this. Thank you dear poet
Wars will never end until they stop making bombs, bullets, etc, and that won't happen... too much money involved. Good poem by the way.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/28/2024 12:15:21 PM # 1.0.0.1119
2) I have repeatedly said, "Let us hate hatred; not the haters. We may convert them with love." But this may not work out with all, I now realise.