Donna Quesinberry

Rookie (06/05/1957 / United States of America)

Art In War - The Munitive - Poem by Donna Quesinberry

That Moral Law and code, now
Lacks pretense and virtue
There is no morality, there is danger.
The moral law, she died.

Night has become day.
Day has become night.
Seasons are skewed and tearful.
Heaven’s a quandary herself.

Between life and death
There is no measurement.
All Slovaks say they don’t
Want children. Death is in living.

The new commander is the old
Commander’s arch villain, glorified
and refrained from rooftops. Defiling
mother earth and she is vanquishing angels.

The ground is no longer marshaled.
It is congealed and regurgitated upon.
Masters are artificial greens keepers and
God is a melancholy agent of a past tribe.

Listen to this poem:

Comments about Art In War - The Munitive by Donna Quesinberry

  • (4/21/2007 11:47:00 AM)

    Nice how you took the Art of War and transitioned it in this piece. (Report)Reply

    1 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
Read all 1 comments »

Robert Frost

The Road Not Taken



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?



Poem Submitted: Wednesday, April 18, 2007

Poem Edited: Tuesday, February 15, 2011


[Report Error]