Blood, whispering in the desert
Trees talk secret words in the forest
It gives a very wild alert
It's time to feel Red's presence
Not even the dead rests in peace
Ashes precipitates from the blue
Look around, there's blood in the breeze
And chances of survival are few
Arrows fly faster than falcons
Blades cuts swifter than swift
Feel the intoxication of the drunken
Feel the earth shake and drift
Souls drenched in red liquors
Confused of who is and is not
Desert gold turns red mirrors
Death in cold blood, though the spill is hot
Intoxication, give me one more glass
To arouse my sober soul
Dear Red, give me one lass
I'm glad I won't die alone
Very impressive write, Jeffrey. You may like to read my poem, Love And Iust. Thank you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Not even the dead rests in peace....blood in the breeze, Death in cold blood, a true portrayal of what war is......... in this centuary we humans are soooooo cruel........thank u dear brother poet for portraying it...... tony