Onlookers chatter in blood spattered dust
The basher and contenders spar and dance
On ruins and solemn graves pounded by both,
They size up and posture for what is right
Sectarian versus fundamentalist
Tribes summon vile, base spite across borders
Players ascend the stage to out-perform.
Audience gestures reels and weaves unmoved
Intent on taking part and outraged the
Industrial military complex pauses
Looks up from spying on its own good people
Seeks transparent secret meetings with players,
Winners chosen by empires' patronage
To emulate, or rebuild with freedom.
17/6/2013
Danny Draper
It’s hard to believe that this is life—something that was meant to be a beautiful, sacred gift. But in this finely-set sonnet, you have given a grave view of the true facts. Thank you much.
Peace has now become so obsolete! Instead of trying to restore calm from the shambles, contenders dance on ruins and graves! A very powerful write!
How painful feels the bleed of Siria. Wish we could sent our message of love and peace. To cry out for our children: please stop the violence, stop the killing, we are all sisters and brothers. What home could feel warm and cozy if built by war, painted with blood with tears fountains flowing from the walls?
A great poem, sadly the world is run by greed so not much can be done.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
good write, thanks, I invite you to read my poems and comment.