The Omen Poem by Gert Strydom
The Omen
I saw men thrusting a bayonet and knife
through the enemy
as though life was meaningless
and killing with a rifle,
an armoured car’s gun
and war devoured
the enemy and the innocent
local population
and the madness and mystery
of having blood
on your hands
was like a omen
and a token
of more killing to come.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Best Poems
Best Member Poems
Best Classical Poems
New Poems
New Poets
Best Member Poets
Best Classical Poets
Explore Poems
Explore Poets
Poem Of The Day
Love Poems
Baby Poems
Death Poems
Sad Poems
Birthday Poems
Wedding Poems
Nature Poems
Sorry Poems
Hero Poems
Poetry E-Books
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
4/23/2024 11:13:33 PM # 1.0.0.1119
