The sounds and flashes run through me day in and day out. I try to hide the pain and memories of what the past holds. No regret just disturbed and tormented thoughts. Day by day i struggle with this emotionless motion its a rollercoaster ride with no ending, turning, winding jerking. Bang bombs exploding around me gun shots surround me, dust fills the air, the smell of fresh gun powder settles. Sand is filled with a reddish tint, puddles of a recognizable familar fluid flow slowly toward me. The dust settles clears the air bodys lay motionless, smoke steaming out of the fresh bullet holes of lifeless child, mother, and father.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A commendable display of prosaic verse...I like your generous employment of imagescape, which as a rule, you don't see enough with todays literary trend of energy anemic & mundane parlance in penning modern prose.Well Done, Bryan ~FjR~