War Sonnet Poem by Timothy Faboade
War Sonnet
WAR I
Like worn-out clothes their bodies char
Fires from the frightful suckling barrels
Give them the glorious, gracious garlands
They are now the Lord heroes of the lands
Smiling at the far-fetched laurels in their graves
Though without brazen befitting burials;
Lucky are those left monstrously maimed.
They do not care about the longevity denials.
Some go sullenly without some solemn songs
Save the mourning and somber from tongues
Tongues of the troubled real victims of wars
Who surge in their grieves at their bloods’ flaws.
The error horror of gun-duel proudly never ceases
And its agonies freeze them like ill-fated fishes.
Faboade Timothy A.
Tongues of the troubled real victims of Wars! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
Tongues a the troubled real victims of Wars! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
' Like worn-out clothes their bodies char ' the opening image well describe what ''war'' practically means
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/30/2024 11:14:48 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Your images are so vivid, the words are difficult to read. The opening line captures the readers attention to the horror of war on the human body, then the lines of the sonnet continue on about the effects of war on the psyche of the individual and the country. The image at the end is chilling. Well done. Thanks.