The fire in his eyes,
The anger in his teeth;
Is not real.
The gun in his hand,
The bullets he fires,
Frame him into a picture of eternal violence
His feeling of guilt is disguised as his heart’s desire
When all he wants is to go home,
Off the battlefield
Into the arms of internal sanctuary
But when the fire in his eyes,
Decide to melt,
The cold surface of his heart.
It’s too late to cry
As the enemy closes their eyes
And aim their dart.
very real...appealing and heart touching poem..and intersting... really your poetry shows me that you are a good and realistic and logic based poet... and the ideas and subjects are enough new and the way you do it is fantastic... yeah I mean it and love this piece of poem very much..and hope my poetry will also touch your heart if go through seriously..and let me know if its ok to your taste of soul...
i know i shouldn't comment on all ur poems n m sure dis is d last comment, even though i will want to comment on the rest of them too, but this is so so so so........ i can't find d right word.......but u jst need to know how nice it is! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The cold surface of his heart. It’s too late to cry As the enemy closes their eyes And aim their dart......mehreen very good write dear.......i loved it simply..what an talent u have.... read mine'cry not' 'Aplace called home' and, , , , , , , bidding farewell