He Fell Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai

He Fell



He fell
All torn
All blood
First moved
Moved slow
Then ceased


A withered field
Now seeping blood
Corpses and cadavers
A brown of red
Thousands lay there
Not all in wholes

Dullness of thought
Bleak drear of clouds
Waning of day
Screaming of wraiths
The Earth feels sad
Today!

Wednesday, August 13, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: winter
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