Treasure Island

caroline ferguson


Is This A Dream


What is this world coming to?
Bombs and death nothing new
Children die and mothers cry
Blood runs through the streets again
Runners fall and cry in pain
All these troubles come to town
Now the guilty have been found
Two young men have done this thing
But on what grounds this sorrow bring
Factory burns down the town
People killed some can’t be found
People weep for there lost
More heroes’s to pay the cost
Another land and the earth will shake
People die in a big quake
Only so much a human heart can take
Before in pices it will break
Trouble at home and near and far
As I watch the news every hour
Death and sorrow is the theme
Dear God tell me is this a dream

Submitted: Sunday, April 21, 2013
Edited: Monday, September 30, 2013

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Is This A Dream by caroline ferguson )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. Shadows Leading Me, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
  2. Fairness!, Clarence Prince
  3. At Her Feet, Naveed Akram
  4. Enjoying Interior Sensations, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
  5. Know everything at least, gajanan mishra
  6. Lost Images, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
  7. Abortion (cry of a foetus), ramesh rai
  8. Feel me, I am here, gajanan mishra
  9. Let me start afresh, gajanan mishra
  10. selfie, ko the skipper

Poem of the Day

poet Henry Lawson


The old year went, and the new returned, in the withering weeks of drought,
The cheque was spent that the shearer earned,
and the sheds were all cut out;
...... Read complete »

   

Member Poem

[Hata Bildir]