War Poem by Stan Petrovich

War



Everything is silence
Over the battlefield
Except for a few measly human groans
And the dying snorts of horses
Smoke trails slowly
Here and there
Near where the punctured bodies lie
One brave wounded soldier stands
Then topples into a snowbank
Quite dead
Long spears grow from carcasses
Like some grotesque reeds

And there is no winner here

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Stan Petrovich

Stan Petrovich

Fort Riley, KS
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